Billie’s home too.
My voice is low when I say, “You can’t do that, buddy.”
He lifts a defeated shoulder. “Every dollar we have is tied up in the house, so that just leaves Shelby. I’m struggling to afford the rental on the garage anyway, so I guess selling her and downsizing will solve two issues. Billie and the baby need the money.”
My beer is almost room temperature when I take another pull. “How much does she need?”
Scott’s head darts to me, a warning in his gaze. I’ve never offered him money because I always knew he would tell me to shove it up my ass. He’s proud, and so is Freya. But this is about his daughter, and when it comes to Billie, Scott will do anything for his child.
“Don’t even go there.” He sits back in the booth. “And anyway, you just got a divorce and lost fifty percent of your wealth.”
I sit forward. “And? I’m one of the highest-paid defensemen in the league. How much does Billie need?” I repeat.
The conflict inside my friend is clear as he falls silent, and I request another bourbon on his behalf.
“We can’t take your money, Emmett.”
“Hypothetically speaking … how much would be enough?”
He shakes his head, dismissing my question.
“How much?” I press.
I should probably drop this, but a desire to feel useful drives my determination to at least get a number from him. Maria might’ve taken fifty percent in an uncontested settlement, but it’s the twilight of my hockey career, and I have more money than I can spend.
Scott swallows thickly as I slide a fresh glass of bourbon toward him, his eyes down and not on me.
“With the sale of Shelby and a loan we were looking to set against the house, we thought maybe a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It would pay off the remainder of Billie’s student finances and give her a head start with wherever she wanted to live when she and the baby eventually move out—whether shechooses to stay in Brooklyn, go back to Austin or find somewhere totally different.”
“Done,” I confirm without a second of hesitation.
“No,” he counters.
“Yes,” I volley back.
“We can owe you it. I’ll set up a repayment?—”
“Not happening,” I interject, blowing out a long breath. If the table wasn’t between us, I’d clamp my hand on his shoulder or pull him into an embrace. “I want to do this, Scott. For you, for Freya, and for Billie and the baby. How many times have you been there for me? Shitstorm after shitstorm. From my divorce to a knee injury that almost ended my career prematurely.” I pin him with a sincere stare. “Let me do this one thing for you guys. I haven’t got kids of my own, and at thirty-five, hell knows I don’t think I ever will. My money will die with me, and all I have to spend it on is cars, golfing vacations, and boring investments.”
I don’t miss the glaze as it forms across his eyes. He’s still uncomfortable with this, but he knows it’s the right decision to let me help out.
“Freya and Billie can never know.”
I raise a brow at him. “I don’t think keeping stuff from them is a good idea. And anyway, where will you say you got the money from?”
Scott rolls his lips together in thought. “I have shares in the company I used to work for. In total, they amount to nothing like the kind of money we need, but I’ll tell Freya they appreciated quickly, and I’m taking advantage by cashing them in. They were originally earmarked for our retirement, but she’ll want to use them for Billie and the baby.” He clears his throat, guilt twisting his features. “I guess if the shares technically exist, then it’s not a total lie.”
“Scott, I?—”
“I don’t want to hear any more, Emmett,” Scott cuts me off. “This is the deal: you help out my family, and I get to call the shots on what I tell them.”
I don’t like it, not one fucking bit. But Freya isn’t my wife, and Billie isn’t my daughter, and there’s no way I’m leaving my friend in the lurch.
I finish the rest of my beer and set the empty down in front of me. “All right. I can have the money in your account by the end of the week.”
CHAPTER TWO
BILLIE
