Page 11 of Her Rugged Guardian

“Goddamn it, buddy. Why can’t you enjoy your life?”

“What are you talking about? I am enjoying life.”

“Uh-huh,” he said before taking a long pull on his beer, returning his attention to the game. As always happened, tension settled between us. It was a far cry from how close we’d been years ago, the kid following me around like my shadow. “You just can’t let the past go. Can you?”

“And you can’t stop partying or wrecking your life.”

“I’m not wrecking my life.”

“Like hell you’re not, Riley. I’ve watched you play. You’re hungover so often it’s affecting your game. It won’t be long until you become a liability.”

Riley huffed. “What the hell right do you have criticizing me? Your leg is all healed up, yet you pretend you can’t play any longer. You’re a chicken shit if you ask me.”

“Well, nobody is asking you!” God damn the man. We’d had more moments of awkward silence over the last few years than I’d thought possible. “At least I have a decent excuse for not playing. What’s yours going to be? And who’s the latest puck bunny hanging all over you at these games?”

“God damn you. I didn’t know you gave a shit about watching me any longer.”

Another two minutes ticked by.

“Yeah, I care whether you believe it or not. I don’t want you washed up early.”

“Why don’t you just worry about yourself,” he said through clenched teeth. Another two minutes ticked by with both of us staring up at the television screen even though I doubted either one of us knew who was playing or what the score was. “So, what’s this chick like?”

His question almost made me laugh.

“She’s a ballbuster, that’s what she’s like. She’s some highfalutin hotshot out of DC. She’s in way over her head if she thinks she can handle the B & B. That much I can tell you. There’s no chance she can get the place back on its feet.”

“Wow,” Riley said, amusement in his tone.

“What?”

“You like this girl.”

“Like hell I do. She’s annoying as fuck. And she hit me with a toaster. Besides, why would you say a shit thing like that?” Scotty slid the shot across the bar just like he’d done before, only this time I snapped it in my hand, giving him a surly look.

My brother leaned in. “Because you haven’t been this animated in years.”

“That’s bullshit.” I powered down more than half the cold one before taking the whiskey shot. All the while my brother continued to stare at me. I wanted to wipe the amused and entitled look off his face.

“I’m not making fun of you, Jake.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m not. You deserve to find some happiness.”

“Just let it alone. Okay?”

“Sure.” We sat in silence for a full minute, but I could tell something was on his mind. “So, have you talked to Mom or Dad lately?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” I took another gulp of beer, suddenly loathing the taste. Or maybe it was the bitter taste that came when he asked the same question at least once a quarter.

“Oh, I don’t know. Because they’re our parents. Because they worry about you.”

“Need I remind you that they made it perfectly clear they wanted nothing to do with me when they moved out of town?”

“Dad got a promotion. That’s why they moved to Seattle.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Stop trying to put the pieces back together, Riley. Just face it. Our family is fractured. That’s the way it is. I’m okay with that.” My father had both our lives laid out almost as soon as we were born. He’d pushed us into hockey, an injury similar to mine destroying his career early on. When I’d refused to return to the sport, he’d taken it as a personal affront. It didn’t help that my father and I had never seen eye to eye.

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