And here’s where his dad’s bullshit-detector always won the battle. “No…”
“I bet. I heard he’s a bit of a recluse now, but he’s probably just sad.”
“He is,” said Jett, and he meant it. “I feel guilty for not spending all my time with you.”
His dad laughed.“Kiddo, don’t feel guilty. I would rather you enjoy your downtime and rest for the new season than worry about me.”
But the funny thing was that Jett would always worry about his dad. The man had spent his entire young adult life finding every possible way to keep Jett in hockey, even though they never had much money left. His family had been happy for a while, but his brother nearly destroyed them.
Fuck, that urge to run was bubbling to the surface again. He didn’t know what he was doing here, trying to make friends with Killinger when it couldn’t go anywhere. Part of him wanted to cut his time home short and return to Toronto,but—
Killinger had used his name. Jett never thought he would hear his name leave Killinger’s mouth, but damn.
Townsend and Killinger had been upset when he left, but Jett saw it for what it was. How those two worried about one another, and how they fought to keep from hurting each other, made him feel at home. It was the type of bond shared between family that made it so much worse when you saw them hurting.
“Jett?”
“Sorry, Dad. I—”
“Fraser!”
Jett jumped to his feet and lost his grip on his phone, almost throwing it in the lake for real. He looked behind him and saw Killinger approaching him at an easy and arrogant stride, smirking in a way that made Jett’s skin break into goosebumps.
“What?” said Jett, and he would be forever thankful that the word didn’t leave him in a squeak.
“On Monday, I’m taking Arlo to the airport, and I’ll be home around lunch.”
“Okay?”
“You’ll be here for lunch too. We only have two weeks to work together, so you better be on fucking time.”
“What the hell are we working on together?” Jett asked, ignoring his father’s sniggering laughter on the phone. “What is happening right now?”
Killinger’s stupid smirk was distractingly sexy. “You seem like the kind of guy who responds well to positive reinforcement, so let me offer this. If you can pull off the Killinger by the end of the two weeks, three consecutive times, not only will I let you use it in an official game, but I’ll even agree to be your friend.”
Three times? With that wonky move that was more luck than skill? There was no way that was fair.
Jett held the phone to his ear, hoping to find answers in adult-adult wisdom. “Uh, Dad?”
“It sounds like you have hockey to play,”said his dad.“You could make it up to me by renting me a place on the beach along the South Shore. There are still some bass in the ocean that I haven’t met yet.”
Jett didn’t need to think about that one. “Deal.”
And then for good measure, he met Killinger’s gaze. “Fucking bring it on, Harrison.”
Jett
Fucking Mondays. Jett hated Mondays.
He was a tad hungover after spending a great weekend with his dad. They had downed a lot of alcohol and played too many rounds of minigolf to count. Did Jett like minigolf? No. Did he win every game? Also no because his dad had been kicking his ass at it since he was a kid.
That didn’t stop him from trying because he was a goddamn hockey player who lived for a challenge. But the only thing he got was the deed to the fucking business because he was a petty bitch when he was drunk, and he had bought the place out of spite.
And Jett now knew his dad was an even pettier bitch because he had woken up that morning to the embarrassing signed poster of Harrison attached to the body pillow that he’d been snuggling.
Touché, Dad. Touché.
Jett pulled onto the private road that led to the Killinger property, not caring if he set off Harrison’s security squirrel, or whatever the fuck he used to watch his road. He was early, but there was a reason for that. A reason that he wasn’t going to share with Killinger until they talked.
