“We’ve supported you because you were going to marry Cameron,” her mum said. “And Lumleys do philanthropy, just as I’ve done. Just as you’ve been doing. That has been our expectation. If we thought for a moment you had no intention of marrying him, you’d have been polishing your CV and applying for jobs your last year at university. You’d have been paying your own bills upon graduation.”
“Now, go and find your fiancé,” her stepfather said. “And get things back on track. Or the locks to your Knightsbridge apartment will be changed by morning.”
“What?” She could barely process his words. He couldn’t possibly mean to throw her out onto the streets?
“Darling, please.” Her mum patted his arm.
Oh, thank God. Her mum would always take care of her. They were a team. Her parents were upset. She understood that. But they’d never make her marry a man she didn’t love.
But then her mum’s features hardened. “Let her make some calls, see which of her friends will allow her to sleep on their couch until she gets a job.”
Chapter One
Ten Months later
“No one liked Kurt Grevers.”
In the mountain chapel, the scent of lilies and melting candle wax mixed with perfume and cologne. The heavy weight of loss bore down on Declan Cadell, and he looked away from the eulogist and down at his shiny black dress shoes.
I liked him.
“But everyone respected him.”
Yes. Declan’s head jerked up. That’s exactly right.
“They respected his work ethic. To this day—ten years after retiring from the sport he gave his heart and soul to—he remains the top goal scorer, assist producer, and point scorer in NHL history.” The lawyer’s gaze roamed the packed room. “They respected his sportsmanship. You won’t find a single player anywhere who’d speak ill of him. But his legacy goes well beyond his athletic achievements. He will forever be remembered for his loyalty, his integrity, and his generosity. He’s done a hell of a lot more for this town than anyone knows, since he didn’t want the attention.”
The man’s tone held a challenge, like he was pissed at people for underestimating the hockey legend. But Declan didn’t know why. Anyone who knew Kurt thought the world of him. And for those who hadn’t seen past his gruff exterior…Kurt hadn’t given two fucks about them. He hadn’t needed anyone.
Except for us. Declan couldn’t help scanning the room. He hadn’t wanted to see if the guys had come to the funeral because if they hadn’t…well, he didn’t think he could get past that.
Kurt had given them everything. It wasn’t his fault they’d blown it all to hell.
In the crowd of townspeople, hockey players, and sportscasters, Declan found each of his childhood friends—now grown into men. Good.
He was just tuning back into the eulogy when his gaze snagged on a woman he didn’t recognize. In a rugged western town like Calamity, Wyoming, she stood out with her sleek blond hair, pouty red lips, and enough bling to be seen from a space station.
“If you got a smile out of Kurt, you felt like you’d won the lottery.” The man delivering the eulogy wore a bolo tie over his western dress shirt. “It was rare but genuine. And today, if he’s watching from up in heaven, you can bet he’s smiling. He’d be touched to see how many people turned out to bid him farewell. Because he might not have wanted to talk on the phone, and nobody left a dinner or a meeting quicker than he did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like you. It just meant he wasn’t a man for small talk. He got to the heart of the matter and got out. So, on Kurt’s behalf, I’d like to thank you for joining us here today, as we lay our teammate, father, neighbor, client, and friend to rest. I hope you’ll join us in the community room for a lunch hosted by the Cooters and provided by Harley and Lu Emporium.”
The quiet murmur of chatter filled the room as people slowly made their way out of the chapel. Declan wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, so he moved against the flow toward the side exit. He’d head to the ranch, the only place where he could say a real goodbye to the man who’d meant so much to him.
But he was blocked by a tall, broad-shouldered dude in an expensive suit. With a big grin, Jaime Dupree clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man. Long time, no see.”
“Yep.” Not that Declan held a grudge, but Jaime was the reason their friendships had blown up ten years ago. That aside, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. “I’ll see you around.”
Unaffected, Jaime said, “You’ll see me in Harrison’s office in fifteen minutes.”
Declan’s gaze moved to the podium, now vacated. Harrison was Kurt’s attorney and the eulogist. “Why?”
“He needs to talk to us about Kurt’s will.”
“What does his will have to do with us? We’re not related to him.” But hope flickered in his chest. There were a few things he wanted. Like the potato masher that had been in Kurt’s family for generations. It might seem lame, but he associated it with dinner at the ranch.
He’d like pretty much anything from the hutch in the living room. It was stuffed with artifacts from the Grevers family. Kurt would never have thought to give any of it to one of his players, though. Everything would go to family.
Jaime shrugged. “We’re about to find out.”
With the church only a few blocks outside of town, they walked to the law office. It was a perfect late spring day in Calamity. A small Old West town just outside Grand Teton National Park, it didn’t get a lot of days like this when the skies were cloudless and blue, the air warm and breezy. He breathed it in, filling his lungs and taking in the startling background of the mountains jutting out of the earth.
“So, a coach, huh?” Jaime asked as he waved at someone biking past.
“Assistant.” Together, they crossed the street. “But yeah.”
“You like it? Coaching?”
Declan cut a look to his former friend. Like Kurt, he’d never been much for small talk. And with an elephant in the room so big he could hardly see around it, he was even less inclined to shoot the shit.
But now wasn’t the time to talk about what had gone down ten years ago. Not on the same day they’d laid their mentor to rest. “I like it a lot.”
“You don’t miss playing?”
“Sure, I do.” But he still got a lot of ice time, so he didn’t mind too much. “Don’t you?”
“I miss it every day. Don’t know if you heard, but I wound up going to college here and playing on the team. Coached it for a few years until Kurt offered me the job with Mountain West.” Jaime hunched a shoulder. “I like coaching, too. But it’s not the same as playing.”
Nineteen years ago, Kurt had caught four rowdy boys building a dirt bike course on his land. Instead of calling the police, he’d started an elite travel hockey team. Declan and his friends had gone from being reckless kids to driven, high-performing athletes. They’d been inseparable.
And look at us now. All four of us in that chapel, and we didn’t even acknowledge each other. He should’ve said something. He shouldn’t have left without shaking their hands.