He shook his head. “Why? This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. You know Bast, my brother, nicest guy in the world? You know how I treated him growing up? I was an asshole to him. I pushed him around because I was jealous of his talent, his charm, how goddamn easy he had it. I wanted what he had with Henri. I wanted to be the favorite son. And tonight I made sure that I’ll be the only one playing for a while. By any means necessary.”
His pain broke her heart. She had known the relationship between the brothers was complicated, but she had no idea of the extent. Reid still carried this guilt about how he had treated Bast all those years ago—but Bast had clearly forgiven him. She saw the love shining between them.
“Bast loves you, Reid.” I love you.
She would have said it but his self-loathing was on fire, eating up all the air between them. “Well, he shouldn’t! I just stole his spot on the Olympics team. Took something that rightfully belonged to him. My teammates think I’m a fuckup and the fans love to hate me and my brother has been knocked off Team Canada, but hey, I’m here. Reid Durand, the alternate, the NHL’s biggest asshole. Did you think I was going to become a different person because I got a dog?”
He sounded so hurt, like the bargain he had made with the universe had turned around and punched him in the face. But she saw how far he had come and tonight’s events, though painful, were a temporary setback. A gentle creature like Bucky would only bond with someone who already had a heart as big as Reid’s.
“Not because you got a dog. Because you are a good man who wants to be a better one. You’d rather buy into your father’s messed up worldview than accept you’ve made a ton of progress? You took a step back. It’s not the end of the world.”
His expression reeked of disgust. She knew it was with himself, not her.
At least that was her fervent hope.
“Kennedy, you might have landed here like Mary Poppins, sprinkled some magic fairy dust, fixed a frightened dog, and made an asshole hockey player 5% less asshole. Good for you. In a couple of weeks you’ll be on a plane to somewhere warm and sunny and you won’t cast a backward glance to me or Bucky. Just off to the next assignment.”
Wow with the dismissal. That stabbing pain in her chest couldn’t be good.
This was why you shouldn’t get too close. She had thought this might work—she and Reid might work—but no. He was too entrenched in his jerk persona and maybe he was right about her: the soles of her shoes were nonstick.
“That—that pretty much says it all.” She took a shallow, useless breath. “I’ll be packed and out of your hair by the morning.”
“No, you won’t. Because you still work for me, remember? You’ll stay here and do the job I hired you for—looking after my dog. Then you can run back to Asia just like you planned.”
Okay, then. The job. The plan. Back to basics, to where it all began.
Maybe it was better that this was ending before it started.
Which was funny because they were way past the point of starting. They were in the middle. The painful, messy, fucked-up-in-love middle. Or at least she was.
Tell him. Tell him you love him. Even if it’s the last thing he wants to hear.
She tried to find the words but they wouldn’t come, not when she knew he would only ball them up and throw them in the trash. He stared, burning those midnight-dark eyes into her until something clicked in him and he walked out of the lounge. She let him go because she wasn’t brave enough to put her fear aside and love all his many shades, the asshole and the hurting man.
For all her claims to being a free spirit, Kennedy was nothing of the sort. She was caged. By memories. By fear. She might have fluttered outside it for a while but she could feel the whoosh of wind as the door slammed on those silly dreams.
34
Reid woke up with a weight on his chest. A pair of deep-set brown eyes above a stubby little snout met his sleepy gaze. Sleepy, because he’d managed about three hours of shut-eye.
He picked the bundle of fur up and sat, his hands still embedded in the Pom’s warm body.
He missed his dog.
The door to Foreman’s guest room cracked open. “Reid?” Mia put her head in. “Gordie Howe, leave Reid alone! I’m sorry, we had the door to our room shut so he found you, the next best victim.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for butting in. When I stopped by last night, I didn’t realize—”
“That I practically live here now? It’s not a problem. Did you get any sleep?”
“Enough,” he lied.
She nodded. “I’m about to make coffee, so join us in the kitchen when you’re ready. Come on, Gordie Howe! Give Reid some peace.”
The dog jumped off Reid and followed her out. Reid lay a forearm over his eyes and thought about the unthinkable.
Kennedy would be leaving soon.
She had that plane ticket and an assurance that he was an asshole. Last night he’d laid it all bare.
Witness my envy and greed. Look at what a fuckup I am.
Think you can pit your sun against my dark and win? Ha, nice try!
Reid didn’t have it in him to make her happy so it was better to quit now before he fell too deep.
Sure. Before.
His chest hurt—and not because that damn dog had been camped on it for the better part of the morning.
He picked up his phone from the nightstand. Several texts from Bast had come in during the night.
Where r you?
Need to tok.
Talk.
I’m texting with one fucking hand here.
Where the fuck r u?
Hmm. He didn’t sound as pissed as he should have, just Bast’s version of annoyed, like a baby wasp.
He texted back, You OK?
No response. Must be asleep. He checked the GPS tracker for Bucky and was relieved to see he was safe at home, though the tracker wasn’t sophisticated enough to be able to pinpoint the exact spot. Probably in Kennedy’s room.
Five minutes later he appeared in the kitchen to find Foreman and Mia being vomit-inducing cute while they made breakfast. Their heads were close together and they were whisper-smiling something unintelligible.
“Reid,” Mia said. “How do you take your coffee?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Let her, Durand.” Foreman turned and folded his arms. “Checked in with your brother yet?”
“He’s been texting, so still alive.” Last night, Foreman had given him the usual teammate spiel about shit happening and it would look better in the morning. Well, it was the a.m. and improvement was nowhere to be found.
“What about Kennedy?” Mia asked, setting a cup of coffee down in front of him.
“What about her? Have you talked to her?”
Mia’s look Foreman’s way affirmed she had.
Foreman snorted. “Maybe you should talk to her.”
“I’m not her keeper. And she’s not mine.” At Foreman’s speaking look, he went on. “I’m giving her some space and it’s just easier if I’m not in the same apartment.”
“Because you might have to deal with your problems in a productive manner?” Mia pushed creamer and sugar toward him. “Skim? That’s all we have.”