Page 113 of Hard to Handle

“What did he say?”

My sigh is heavy. “There were a lot of tears and hugs and reassurances that there was no way I was at fault . . . but I still worried.”

“I’m sorry.” He presses a kiss to my temple, and the warmth of his breath hits my scalp.

“Don’t be. It’s life, I guess. You live and you think you know one thing until you learn another. Guilt can be a nasty, ugly bitch, but it can also pull people together.”

A silence falls between us. One full of mutual respect and understanding that we’re each lost in our own pasts, our own memories, our own reasons for our guilt.

“No more sadness,” I say suddenly, needing to shake the vibe. “Sadness is definitely not what you need before the big game tomorrow. How are you feeling about the matchup? You haven’t really spoken about it.”

“I’d name it after my brother, you know.” His words give me whiplash and it takes me a second to realize he’s talking about the arena. “‘The Jonah Maddox Hockey Facility.’ We’d make it the premier place to train for sled hockey,” he says, referring to a modified version of ice hockey for those with physical disabilities. “We’d have camps for kids who are paralyzed, so they could forget the confines of their chairs for a while. No cost to their families. I’d get some of my teammates and friends in the league to come visit them. We’d make it easy for them. The equipment, the access—all the things most kids who want to play need but can’t get at other places.”

My heart swells, and I can’t hide the tears over the purposeful thought he’s put into renovating this place. And when he looks over at me, there are tears in his eyes too, and that heart of mine swells so large it virtually falls out of my chest, landing at his feet.

Not that I mind since right now, in this moment, I know it is pretty much already his.

“I think it’s going to be amazing.” I smile through the tears as he reaches out and links his fingers with mine. Such a simple action, but there’s intimacy in the moment and it’s perfect. Quiet and subtle.

“You do?”

I nod, realizing this is Hunter’s way of letting his brother live on forever. This is his way of holding him close when the earth no longer can. “What better way than to let him be a part of the sport he loved while getting to be with his best friend?”

His smile is automatic. The bob of his Adam’s apple reflecting the emotion that he’s trying to keep at bay.

“I think you could even create a charity in his name, some kind of scholarship, or something like that. Something for your mom to be a part of. It might give her an outlet after. . .” Jonah passes. I twist my lips and hate that my mind went there, but I can’t imagine living your whole life for someone and then suddenly having a life for yourself but a future without the person you cared for in front of you. I avert my eyes the minute my voice fades off, because Hunter knew what I was going to say and now I feel like shit.

“That’s a good idea.” His voice is soft but sincere.

“This place is not only going to be Jonah’s legacy,” I say and squeeze his hand, “but yours too.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

HUNTER

“HEY MADDOX.” HER VOICE JOLTS me from my focus as I walk toward the locker room and stops me in my tracks.

I turn and find her leaning against a wall. She has jeans on.

“Where’s your Jacks gear?”

“Where’s your Stanley Cup?” she asks, her smile wide, her tone playful in the reminder of the Dartmouth game when she told me she’d only wear it when I won a Stanley Cup.

“I’m working on it.” I laugh and walk over to her. “What are you doing here?” I ask, confused and surprised as every emotion in between surges through me.

“Did you really think I was going to miss your first playoff game?”

“You said you had a client who—”

“I know what I said,” she murmurs as she angles her head to the side. The sunlight highlights her hair and the gold lights up like a halo. There’s a thump in my chest, and Christ if this woman doesn’t do things to me I never expected. “But I’m here.”

“Dropping your duties as an agent, huh? Poor client.”

“No, dropping an agent’s duty falls along the line of Sanderson,” she teases.

But it’s out there. The first damn time she’s brought anything up about agents or my agent or any of the shit that’s Sanderson’s job since that night that feels like months ago. The night when we stood outside of whatever fucking arena and she told me the truth about why she was there. About how she feared telling me would ruin whatever this was between us.

“Sanderson drops the ball?” I ask with a smile on my lips.