Forever Wild (Wildcat Hockey Book 5)

JACK

I settle into a chair in the living room. Dad’s gentle snores have increased to a rumble that nearly drowns out the television. Not that I’m really paying attention.

My attention is tuned to the sounds upstairs: the water running, the soft footsteps, the opening of a door. I hate that she’s here. Hate that she saw my dad like this. I’m not embarrassed of him, but it’s just not something I share. I remember that well enough from being a kid. When your dad is the town drunk, people give you these pitying looks and everything you do is measured against him.

Right after I was drafted to the league, I ran into a teacher from middle school and she couldn’t stop telling me how proud she was of me, how great it was that I had made something of myself despite my circumstances.

My circumstances never held me back. If anything, they were the fuel pushing me to be anyone but him.

I’m deep in my thoughts and still craning my head to listen for any movement upstairs when Dad’s hoarse voice says, “Jackson.”

His blue irises are dimmed by his glassy and bloodshot eyes. He’s taking stock of the situation: lying on the couch, me sitting with him, the clean room. Hell, maybe he doesn’t even remember that he made a mess of the place before he headed to Perry’s.

“Dad,” I say keeping all emotion out of my tone. Once upon a time, I might have been sad or angry but now I’m just resigned that this is who he is. No matter what I say or do, no matter how much money I make or success I have, he’s a variable I can’t control. If he were anyone else, I would have cut him from my life.

“I’m guessing by the look of disgust on your face that this visit isn’t a happy one.”

Christ, he doesn’t even remember us picking him up from the bar. I shouldn’t be surprised. Just another Saturday afternoon bender.

“Coach called. You were giving his new bartender a hard time after he cut you off.”

A spark of recollection flashes in his face, some of his color returning, and the light in his eyes returns too. As he processes through the memory, his expression turns remorseful. “I met up with some of the guys to watch the game. You know Bruce is always buying rounds for everyone. I might have gone a little too hard.”

Yeah, let’s blame Bruce and not the entire case of beer that he likely drank before he left the house. I hold in the thoughts. His friends are drunks, just like him. Though they all somehow manage to get home without passing out or driving under the influence. Wishing he could be a more responsible drunk is among the many wishes I’ve cast over the years.

Dad sits up with a groan. He looks like shit. He needs a shave and a haircut, definitely a shower.

“I’m sorry Coach called you. He shouldn’t have done that. I know how busy you are. You don’t have time to be driving up and taking care of me. Let me make you a cup of coffee for your trouble.” He stands, wobbling on his feet.

I get to my feet instinctively and move toward him, catching him when he sways. My knee protests with a twinge of pain that makes stars dance before my eyes.

“Oops. I think my leg is still asleep. I better sit down again for a minute, then I’ll get the coffee.”

I situate him and adjust his weight so my left leg isn’t taking the bulk of the pressure. “I don’t need any goddamn coffee, Dad.”

The outburst silences him and then I curse myself. Yelling at him in this condition isn’t going to help anything. If it would, then he would have been cured twenty years ago. And it never makes me feel better anyway.

Softening my tone, I say, “You should rest.”

“I’ll do that after you leave. I haven’t seen you in too long.” His eyelashes flutter closed. “I missed my boy.”

“I’m not going anywhere. We can talk later.”

“All right.” Eyes opening, he reaches over and pats me on the shoulder. “Maybe just a little rest. I have steaks in the freezer. Will you stay for dinner?”

“Yeah, of course.”

I convince him to go to bed instead of sleeping on the couch. He’s a little steadier on his feet, but it takes some effort for me to get him to the master bedroom. I give silent thanks, once again, that it’s on the lower level. It wasn’t a selling point I considered when I bought the house for him, but there’s no way I could get him upstairs right now.

On the walls are pictures of me growing up. I doubt he remembers much of my childhood, but he has the photos up like a proud parent anyway.

Once I’ve put him to bed, I close his bedroom door and then lean against it. Letting out a long breath, I grimace through the ache of my knee. Dammit. The last thing I need is to tweak it less than two weeks into recovery.

Movement catches the corner of my eye. In all the commotion with my dad, I’d stopped listening to her moving around upstairs, but here Ev stands, freshly showered and in one of my old hockey T-shirts.

Something stirs inside my chest at the way the fabric hangs off her shoulder and grazes her upper thigh. Her long, wet hair has soaked the right side of her shirt, and like the asshole I am, I notice that she’s not wearing a bra.

“Enjoy rifling through my clothes?” I ask with bite in my tone. It has nothing to do with her taking my shirt and everything to do with my reaction to this whole fucking day. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been here. I’m glad and I’m mad and it’s confusing.

“My dress smells like sunscreen and stale beer, but if you would prefer to see me in my bikini then all you have to do is ask. Should I go change into it? Maybe lather myself in suntan oil for you too?” The challenge in her voice makes me smile. Only on the inside, of course. I’m not sure what would be worse at this point: her strutting around in a bikini or what she’s wearing now. I’m starting to think it doesn’t matter what she has on. Everly is gorgeous and I can’t deny my attraction to her.

Acting on it is a whole different story.

I clear my throat before answering her question. “I don’t care what you wear.”

The tension between us teeters precociously. Her hazel eyes narrow in on me but if she can tell that I’m full of shit, she doesn’t say.

“How’s your knee? Did the peas help?”

“Fine.” I take a step to prove it to her.

“Liar.” She smiles like she’s happy to have caught me exaggerating the truth, but then sympathy splashes across her features. “What can I do?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve just been on my feet more than I should.”

“Okay.” She straightens. “You sit. I am going to find us something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Order whatever you want. It’s on me.”

“Does this town do delivery?”

Fuck. No, of course not. Nothing good anyway. “There’s a pizza place that does for sure.”

“I don’t mind cooking.” She takes off toward the kitchen.

I follow behind her instead of going to the living room.

“Sit,” she commands when she sees that I’ve trailed after her.

I take a seat at the oval table just outside of the kitchen. Unopened mail and vitamin bottles sit in the center, as well as a worn paperback.

Before I’m fully situated, Everly is already approaching me with a fresh bag of frozen vegetables.

“Thanks,” I mutter quietly.

She laughs. “Why does it always sound like it pains you so much when you say thank you. Did your parents not teach you any manners?”

“As you can see, the parental lessons I got were a little less constructive.”

Her sassy smile slips. Shit. I didn’t mean to make her feel bad. I know she was joking and I turned it into a personal attack. Having her here has me all out of whack. My dad is not someone I introduce to people. They either pity me, which sucks, or they want to help somehow and there’s nothing anyone can do. Trust me. I’ve tried it all.

“I think there are steaks in the freezer.”

With a nod, she moves back to the fridge. She finds them and sets the package on the island.

“Those are going to take awhile to thaw out.”

Fuck, can nothing go right today?

“You know what, I got this.” She whirls around, opening cabinets and drawers to find whatever she needs.

“Pizza is still an option,” I say.

“This will be better.”

I’m intrigued but I don’t ask. Instead, I pick up the envelopes on the table. I started paying Dad’s bills years ago so there aren’t any surprises here, mostly junk.

The book is dog-eared about fifty pages in. When I was a kid, Dad was a big reader. He always carried a paperback with him: to my games, to doctor appointments, anywhere he might have a moment to sit and read. It’s been years since I thought about that. Though to be fair, it’s been years since I’ve seen him with a book lying around.

“Do you like to read?” Everly asks.

I set the book down. “No, not really. You?”

“I’m obsessed with thrillers.” Her face lights up. She has a big block of cheese in one hand and grates it into a bowl. It’s a shock to see either of those gadgets being used in Dad’s kitchen. Grilled steaks or burgers and takeout make up ninety-five percent of the meals that grace this kitchen.

“I’m reading this one right now about a woman who is a nanny for this really rich family. The wife is crazy and the husband totally has the hots for her. I think it’s going to be one of those snapped situations where the wife goes all scorned woman and kills everyone.”

I snort a laugh at the premise.

“Don’t laugh. With all the women you’ve left heartbroken, you could be one scorned woman away from a thriller plotline.”

She’s talking about my demise, but all it reminds me is that I haven’t fucked anyone in a while.

“Relax, I was kidding.”

When I clear the thoughts of sex (mostly) from my brain, I look over at her. Everly has one dark brow lifted and a smirk on her face.

“What are you making over there?” I ask, changing the subject for the sake of my sanity, and stand.

My knee is already feeling better, but I sit at the island on one of the stools and prop my leg up on the empty one beside it.

She waits until I’m situated before answering. “Macaroni and cheese.”

A laugh slips from my lips. “Seriously.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“I haven’t had mac and cheese in years.”

“I have it at least once a week.”

“Of course you do.”

“Is that a knock on my age or my eating habits?” she asks, going back to grating the cheese. The movement makes her boobs jiggle, and I am going to hell for noticing.

“Both. Let me do that.” I motion for the grater. “I’m just sitting here. I can be useful.”

Reluctantly, she hands me the block of cheese and grater and then pushes the bowl toward me. After she’s found a pot, filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil, she comes back to stand on the other side of the island from me.

“What about you? Break any hearts lately?” I ask when my mind keeps circling sex. As far as I know she isn’t dating anyone, but it isn’t like she typically shares that kind of stuff with me.

She snorts with an eye roll. “Are we going to make girl talk now?”

I grit my teeth, but I’m distracted from the job at hand and grate my finger on the last hunk of cheese.

“Fuck.” I pull back and instinctively place my pointer finger in my mouth to relieve the sting.

The tangy metallic taste of blood hits my tongue.

Everly laughs. Not loudly, but clearly she’s amused by my pain.

“I think that’s enough cheese,” she says. She takes the bowl and weapon away from me.

When she returns to stand across from me, she pulls herself up and sits on the counter, feet dangling off the side and my T-shirt riding high on her thighs.

“I had big plans for a summer fling before I went off to my internship in August, but that is not working out very well so far.”

“Why not?” I ask, unable to help myself. I know guys have to be throwing themselves at her.

“You say that like there’s a plethora of attractive, fun, single guys out there.”

“Isn’t there?”

“How many of your friends are single?”

Huh. I would have said most of them, but that’s not true anymore. Leo, Declan, Ash, Ty, Maverick…nearly all my closest teammates have settled down.

“Galaxy,” I say, then add, “Mikey.” Our goalie.

“Two guys and both hockey players.”

“What’s wrong with hockey players?”

Amusement dances over her features. “Nothing. It’s just that you all still treat me like Ty’s annoying little sister.”

“That’s because you are.”

She reaches over and grabs a handful of my hair, then tugs it.

“What the hell?” I ask, then laugh before I can think better of it. “And you wonder why we treat you like an annoying little sister.”

“Wow, was that a laugh? I didn’t know you were capable of that noise,” she taunts, then says. “You should do it more often. It sounds nice.”

I’m still stuck on those words when she adds, “That reminds me I need to cancel my date tonight.”

Everly hops off the counter. When she does, the shirt rides up and she flashes the red bikini bottoms. Thank fuck she’s not going commando. Although just that small peek of her ass has me needing a cold shower.

She grins as she taps away on her phone. Everly walks back toward me, but instead of sitting on the island like before, she leans forward on her elbows. The pose makes her blonde hair fall over her shoulders and puts her face closer to mine. She has a sprinkling of light freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks are a slight pink from the sun.

“Who is he?” I ask.

She doesn’t look at me as she responds, “Just some guy.”

Plucking the phone out of her grasp, I bring it closer to look at their back and forth.

“Give that back,” she protests.

“His name is Will?” I ask. That is the least of my concerns though as I read through a few of their messages.

She comes around to take her phone back. I hold her at bay with my injured arm. Look at that, the cast is finally good for something.

Their messages aren’t all that exciting. The dude is eager to meet up with her and disappointed she’s canceled tonight. Everly is playing it more casual, but her texts indicate she was looking forward to it too.

“Jack!” She lifts up on her toes and reaches over me. The position puts her boobs right in my face and I’m distracted long enough that she’s able to snatch her phone back.

“Rude.” She marches back around with her phone.

“Where’d you and Will meet?”

“Online.”

“Seriously?”

“Uhh…yeah.”

“Let me see his profile.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“You’re just going to make fun of him.”

“Only if there’s something to make fun of.” I’m definitely going to make fun of him.

She doesn’t look like she’s going to budge.

“Fine. Tell me something about him then. What’s Will like?”

“Stop saying his name like that.” Mild amusement laces her tone as she moves to the stove and puts the noodles in the boiling water to cook.

When she’s done, she leans against the counter next to the stove and crosses her arms over her stomach.

I’m silent, waiting for her to tell me about her date. Is this really what my life has come to? I’m at my dad’s house asking my teammate’s little sister about her love life, which is sadly more interesting than my own.

“I just swiped right on him two days ago, so I don’t know much. I was going to get to know him more on our date tonight.”

A date that isn’t happening because of me. I should probably feel bad, but I don’t.

“That guy was not looking to get to know you. At least not in the way you mean.”

Her face lights up with mischief. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t want to get to know him the same way.”

I can’t tell if she’s kidding. Warmth spreads in my gut as I stare at her smug expression. She knows she’s shocked me and she likes it.

“Still time to drive back and meet up with him.”

Her mask slips ever so slightly. She might want to play it off like I’m keeping her here, but I’m not. She chose to stay here tonight, and she wouldn’t have if she really wanted to be fucking Will.

Not that any of that gives me the right to be an asshole. I can’t seem to stop myself lately. And Everly doesn’t deserve that. This is why I’ve spent all summer alone. No one should be subjected to me in this state.

Standing, I’m glad that my knee seems to be feeling better so I can walk away from this conversation and leave her in peace.

“You can have the guest room upstairs. Second door on the right. Across from mine,” I add since she seems to have found that one just fine.

“You don’t want dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”