“Thank you,” I said quietly, casting my eyes down as shame warmed my cheeks. I hated that I let it get this bad.
With a final nod, he left.
“Don’t give me that look,” I said when I risked a glance at my still-furious brother. “I’m not protecting them.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he at least didn’t argue again.
“If Mom and our dads know I’m here, why aren’t they around?”
He rolled his eyes. Honestly, that was answer enough. “You know Mom. She wanted to stay, but she couldn’t stomach seeing you like this.” He used air quotes, his voice pitching higher as he impersonated her perfectly.
“Sounds like her,” I said with a weak chuckle.
“I don’t want you on your own right now, Lana,” he said again. “They say you’ll recover better around people. There’s a lot of bad shit that can happen after riding out heats like that. There’s a reason resources exist.”
“I shouldn’t have needed them.”
“You’re right,” he said. “Youshouldn’thave. But you did. And I truly can’t wait to kill them for this.”
“How about you focus on beating their asses on the ice,” I said, leaning back. “Now tell me about this pack of yours.”
“We’re not a pack. Just teammates. It never felt right calling it that. But, we’re brothers still. I trust them more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. They’re my best friends.”
“What about Dean and Sutton and Milo?” I asked. “You once said the same about them.”
His eyes darkened. “Clearly, I didn’t know them at all. They didn’t even bother to keep in touch once they moved.”
I sighed. “Fame changes people. Guess they couldn’t handle it.”
“Fuck them,” he said with disgust.
My eyes drifted closed as he kept talking, making plans for the move and insisting I come with them when away games hit. Maybe even finding me a role on the team.
As pathetic as it sounded, I couldn’t bear to be alone anymore.
His fingers tightened around mine one last time, his voice dropping to a whisper, the uttered promise settling into my chest.
“Everything is going to get better now. You’re not alone. I’m here.”
Chapter
Three
Kieran
The front door of the hockey house slammed open as Conrad stormed in. I’d seen my best friend angry before, but nothing like this. His face was red, his eyes hard, hands tightened into fists.
“What happened?” I demanded, holding up my hands. I half-expected him to rush past me without a word, but he stomped over, eyes blazing with fury.
“She’s awake.”
Relief hit me. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been waiting for that answer. His reaction, however, didn’t fit the news. Something more must have come out. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“That she’s awake? Of course,” he said, trying and failing to shake himself out of it.
“Then what is it?”
I walked past him into the kitchen and grabbed two beers, cracking them open before handing one over. He took it without protest, which immediately worried me.
