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Wyatt hung up his coat. “Another cold one out there.”
“Yep. Weather’s not supposed to break until next week.” Hudson offered him a coffee, but he was pretty much done with caffeine for the day. “Nothing us Michigan boys can’t handle.”
Wyatt took a seat at the island and watched his brother. “The domestic thing. How’s that working out for you?”
Hudson sat across from him. “I’m guessing you didn’t come here to discuss the ins and outs of my day-to-day living. What’s up?”
Just like Hudson to cut to the chase.
“I did some digging and was surprised to find out Blackwell Holdings bought the old arena from the town.”
“Yes.” Hudson sat back and crossed his arms. “With the new one already up and running, the old place wasn’t being used. Some money from out of state came sniffing around, and I didn’t want just anyone getting their hands on the property. The town didn’t have the funds to maintain it, so we bought it.”
Wyatt let that settle a bit. “You got any plans for it?”
Hudson shrugged. “We’ve rented it out for a few functions, but I haven’t really had time to take a good hard look. Why?”
“I’m guessing there’s no ice right now?”
“No. All town sports were moved to the new arena. It’s a quad rink, so we were able to accommodate a larger pool of teams and leagues.”
“Is the equipment still there? For the ice?”
Hudson frowned. “What are you getting at, Wyatt?”
“I’ve got an idea. Something I’d like to do for someone, and I was hoping to use the facility.”
“I don’t see that being a problem. You’d have to look at insurance and liability and such, but the place is sitting there empty at the moment. I’d rather it be put to use, even if only for an evening. How soon you looking at?”
“As soon as possible. Within two weeks. I just have to line up a few things and talk to some people.”
“Okay. Run with it. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I appreciate it.” Wyatt looked over his brother’s shoulder. “What’re you cooking up there, anyway?”
“I didn’t cook anything. You were the one who wore the chef’s hat in this house.” Hudson grinned. “Darlene left Hungarian chicken stew. Want some?”
“Hell yeah.”
The two men got serious about eating, and an hour later, they’d put a good dent in the stew and had eaten half a loaf of homemade bread.
“I remember Darlene would make this every Saturday night.” Wyatt grinned.
“With dumplings.”
“God damn, her dumplings were good.”
Hudson grabbed Wyatt’s empty plate and carried it to the dishwasher, while Wyatt scooped up a rag and wiped down the island. When he was done, he rinsed it out and hung it in the sink. The hook was still there, and he stared at it for a few seconds, thinking how some things never change.
“Are we going to talk about the crash?” Hudson leaned against the counter, a no-bullshit look in his eyes.
Wyatt swore under his breath. No. Hell no. “Hudson. I appreciate you looking out for me, but I don’t need you too. We’re not kids anymore, and I’m good.”
His brother was silent for a few moments. “It looked bad, Wyatt. I can’t imagine how it was for you to be involved in that. To see that.”
Again.
His brother didn’t have to say the word. It echoed in Wyatt’s head, so loud he wanted to scream. Ever since Diego’s crash, he’d been thinking of nothing but that. The day his mother died.
