The early-sixties man waves me off. “No, that’s all right. We get paid time and a half for the holidays anyway. Plus, Delaney says she needs the time to finish wrapping my presents. She’d have a fit if I saw what she got me before tonight.”
I giggle. “I’m sure. She’s a firecracker.” I met his daughter a handful of times along with her two boys. They have more energy than anyone I know, but they’re the cutest kids I’ve ever seen and look a lot like their mom and grandfather. “I should get going. Merry Christmas. I hope you and your family have a lot of fun together.”
He tips his head and turns to smile at Dairen, who I don’t realize is right behind me. His eyes aren’t on Remi, though, but me. Piercing my mostly makeup-free face in inquisition.
I ignore him and walk inside, waving at the front desk clerk before heading toward the elevators. Daire is right on my heels, pressing the button to go up before I can.
“You’re on a first name basis with the staff?” he asks skeptically.
I watch the numbers on the screen. “Not all of them, but a few. Remi is really sweet. So is his daughter.” I give him a quick once-over before turning forward when the elevator doors slide open. “Don’t look at me like that. I like talking to people. Everyone has a story.”
“Huh.”
That’s all I get. Huh.
Whatever.
Pushing the correct floor number, I bite down on my inner cheek and tap my fingers against my thigh as we start moving.
Floor one.
Floor three.
Floor ten.
Floor eleven.
Floor twelve.
Daire asks, “Why haven’t you slept with the other guys who wanted what I got?”
I choke on air, gaping at his blunt question. “Who asks something that personal?”
“Somebody who unintentionally took another person’s virginity and made them bleed all over their cock,” he responds casually. The lift of his shoulders makes me blink dubiously at his calm demeanor.
Slowly, I shake my head.
Floor eighteen.
Floor nineteen.
Floor twenty.
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“It’s a simple question.”
Is it though? “I…it’s just something I didn’t want to do with them. Waiting felt right. I’m not religious or anything but I wanted to meet the person who would take care of me and…” My cheeks heat as I listen to myself. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
I expect him to agree, but he grunts. “It isn’t stupid.”
Floor twenty-three.
Floor twenty-four.
“Do you miss it? Hockey?”
Floor twenty-seven.
Floor twenty-eight.
Floor twenty-nine.
His gaze roams over me, scanning my face before the elevator stops with a ding when we hit the thirtieth floor. “Do you know you’re the first person to ever ask me that?”
My lips part in surprise.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I miss it every day.”
I blink, swallowing my words as he sighs and turns to the doors sliding open.
When he speaks again, I’m even more shocked at the genuine nature of his words. “For the record, I’m sorry for hitting Noah. Shit, I should probably be sorry for everything that happened. I did it out of bad intentions.” His lips quirk up for a microsecond as he glances at me, not looking sorry one bit. “I can’t really say I’m sorry for being your first, though. It seems fitting for us, doesn’t it? We seem to be forming a pattern.”
Having no idea what to say, he shoots me a wink before stepping out of the elevator leaving me to my thoughts.
All I can do is stare at his fleeting back.
Chapter 8
Daire
* * *
My brother is shit faced as he stumbles about the room, which would be a lot funnier if it didn’t remind me of the night from hell.
He’s obviously had more than our mother’s famous eggnog because he looks three sheets to the wind. Noah becomes more unsteady with every pat on the back he gets from the guests who fawn over his presence. It’s only a matter of time before Mom finds a way to blame me for his foolishness like I slipped him the liquor bottle that led him to his idiocy.
It’s been a few years since the incident that left me getting dropped by the Blackhawks. Years of living my backup life that I never would have expected if someone had asked the younger version of me.
All because my teenage brother had a bad day and decided to go out with friends and get his hands on some hard liquor. Apparently, nothing ever changes. If something happens in his life that he can’t cope with sober, he drinks it away.
Whose life is he going to ruin tonight?
My eyes go to Adelaide, eyebrow twitching in my silent answer.
She looks nervous as she tries to steady him from stumbling over, but he brushes off her hand and says something that makes her cringe. I may be a dickhead sober, but at least I’m not an asshole drunk. Hell, I rarely even drink these days. Not since that day.
The redhead’s question still echoes in my head. Do I miss playing? Every goddamn day. With every breath. The sport is a part of me—it runs in my blood. The adrenaline. The violence. It was everything I needed to work out my frustrations while building a future for myself that wasn’t under my family’s rule.
I wouldn’t be Noah Scott’s brother.
I’d be Dairen “Daire” Scott—famous center for the NHL and the reason my team won a fucking Stanley Cup.
I’d planned on being famous in my own right, but I wasn’t going to let it get to my head like Noah lets his status get to his. The second he had the world’s attention he absorbed every single praise and high remark people gave him until he couldn’t hold anymore.
I step forward when I see his narrowed eyes snap to Adelaide. My brother is a lot of things, and the shitty thing is, I don’t know if abusive is one of them. He’s pissed off. Drunk. Unpredictable if the past is any indication in these circumstances.
The last thing I need is for history to repeat itself and claim another victim. Least of all the one who’s captured my attention for years now.
A hand hooks around my arm stopping me from walking over to the unhappy pair. When I turn to see my father there, I stand taller.
“Let them hash it out,” he tells me under his breath. “You won’t help any by intervening.”
My jaw ticks. “I might if it’s because of what I—”
“Son,” Dad sighs, letting go of my arm and giving me a knowing look. “I don’t know what happened or why. Frankly, kid? I’m not too sure I want to, especially knowing the vendetta you have against Noah. Or the way you look at Adelaide.”
My shoulders draw back.
I’m about to talk when he shuts me up with a look. “I’m not saying you’re not justified in being upset with him. As for the other thing…well, it’s none of my business. All I’m saying is that Noah and Addy need to figure out their rift on their own. If not, your brother is going to make a scene and we both know how your mother will handle that.”
The look I give him must be amusing because he chuckles and nods toward the table covered in drinks. We both avoid the alcohol and go for the water.