Chapter 1
Farren
The bus ride from Calgary to Pittsburgh was as miserable as I expected—sticky seats, crying babies, and the pungent scent of despair mixed with stale coffee. I should have flown, but my budget is limited and the bus was the more frugal option. None of that matters, though, because Calgary is far behind me and new adventure awaits.
The moment I stepped off the bus and inhaled the crisp December air, I knew I’d made the right decision. I need a fresh start, and where better than in Pittsburgh, with Rafferty, who will have to love me no matter what?
My two suitcases and carry-on are unwieldy as I drag them down the hall to Rafferty’s door. His condo building is sleek and modern, all polished steel and glass—so much like my big brother. He’s always been the one with his act together, while I’ve been the firecracker, lighting up and fizzling out just as fast.
I’d like to say things might be different with this fresh start, but it’s highly unlikely. New city and big adventure—still the same old Farren, and the bigger portion of me is just fine with that. I don’t need anything new… just different.
I press the buzzer and wait, bouncing on my heels with nervous energy. When the door finally swings open, Rafferty’s eyes widen in shock before narrowing suspiciously. His broad frame fills the doorway, reminding me just how much space my brother can take up, both physically and with his protective presence. Rafferty isn’t just my brother—he’s a defenseman for the Pittsburgh Titans, having joined the team back in September from the Edmonton Grizzlies. He’s been making waves ever since, known for his bone-crunching hits and no-nonsense style of play.
At six six with a broad chest and shoulders that span almost the entire doorway, Rafferty is imposing even without his gear on. But it’s his face that my eyes roam over as I take him in. High cheekbones and full lips that match my own, our biggest difference being that he’s clearly had his nose broken before and I haven’t. I’m almost twenty-four and he’s three years older, but we’re often asked if we’re twins, we look so much alike. His radiant blue eyes study me critically and though I’ve teased him endlessly about his perpetually serious expression, those eyes have always held love and loyalty when staring back at me.
A faint scar above his eyebrow and another on his chin add to his ruggedness, a reminder of the physical toll hockey takes, but they only make him more striking. He’s the picture of a protective sibling and a professional athlete rolled into one, and right now, he’s looking at me like I’ve shown up to crash his well-ordered life.
“Surprise,” I chirp, throwing my arms wide.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls, even as he jerks me into an all-encompassing embrace before lifting me up and twirling me around. His tone is gruff, but the squeeze he gives me says everything—he’s happy to see me, even if he’s about to give me hell. “No, seriously… what in the fuck are you doing here?”
I grin up at him. “Does a little sister need a reason to visit her most awesome big brother?”
He arches a skeptical brow as I slide past him, thumbing back at my luggage. “Grab my bags.”
“How long are you planning on staying? An eternity?” He places my suitcases at the edge of the short hallway that leads to the guest rooms.
“Maybe.” I strut into his kitchen like I own the place, grabbing a beer and cracking it open. I’ve been here twice before and know that the garbage can slides out from a cabinet drawer to the left of his sink where I toss the bottle cap.
“Did you fly in?” he asks. “I could’ve sent a car to pick you up if you’d told me you were coming.”
I settle down on an island stool, one foot planted on the floor and the other casually swinging. “Took the bus. It was a last-minute decision. I just… needed a change of scenery.”
My gaze drops down to the bottle, hoping I sound breezy enough to satisfy him and hoping he doesn’t get overly nosy. I take a sip of beer, looking around the kitchen to avoid his gaze.
“What’s going on?” he asks, and there’s no hiding the suspicion in his voice.
I meet his gaze and hold it. “Nothing’s going on.”
“You left Calgary? Just like that? What about your job?”
Crap. He’s getting nosy and I lighten my voice, radiating a confident smile. “Oh, that.” I wave my hand. “I quit. Things with Derek got messy, and I couldn’t stand being around him anymore.”
It’s vague and nowhere near the truth. I broke up with Derek this summer and never bothered to tell my parents or my brother because I didn’t want to get another lecture on my impulsivity and unwillingness to stick with something. It was just easier letting them believe things were fine in my life.
I brace for him to press me on details, but he merely says, “Farren, you can’t just run away every time you get a wild hair up your butt.”
“I don’t do that.” The denial is swift because he’s so very wrong. I don’t run when I get a wild hair up my butt, I merely run when things start to get serious and overly complicated.
Rafferty’s eyes twinkle, one eyebrow cocked. “What about that time you jumped on a flight to Vegas because you were bored with your job?”
Nope. Not a wild hair up my butt. That’s when I was dating a beautifully tattooed drummer when I was twenty and he told me he loved me one night. It freaked me out and Vegas seemed like the place to go to escape it all.
“Or when you sold your car on a whim,” he says with a smirk, “to fund that music festival road trip with people you barely knew?”
Okay, there may have been a tiny wild hair waving in the wind, but that trip came on the heels of a very hot, in a nerdy type of way, engineering student I was dating, who started talking about our long-term future together. He actually asked me how many kids I wanted and well… I sort of had a tiny freakout then, as well. It just so happens that came on the heels of me meeting some cool people going on a festival road trip, and yeah… that’s how that relationship ended.
I start to say something, but Rafferty isn’t done. “And let’s not forget how you moved into that luxury apartment last year—way out of your budget—just because it had a view of the river. You lasted what, two months, before you broke the lease?”
I can’t help but grin. That was definitely an immature move and could be absolutely considered a wild hair up my butt.
“You’re exaggerating,” I drawl, my chin lifting defiantly even though he nailed it.
Rafferty’s eyes sober and his voice lowers. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just worry about you. You leap without looking, and it’s going to catch up with you one of these days.”
Not if I keep running.
“I know,” I mutter, setting my beer down. “You’re not exactly criticizing but merely conveying a level of concern bolstered by this innate protective instinct you have, punctuated by playful bickering allowed only because of the deep bond we share.”
Rafferty snorts, shaking his head. “You and your words. You should be a politician.”
Ewww… gross. “I’m not dishonest enough.” And feeling the need to put his mind at rest, I say, “I’m not acting on a wild hair in this instance. Merely taking a tactical retreat from my rat wheel of a life.”
Rafferty’s eyes narrow slightly. “And you plan on, what… staying here?”
I beam a smile at him. “Sure. You have a spare bedroom.”
His eyebrow—the one with the scar—rises. “For how long? And you’re going to pay me rent?”
“Yes,” I drawl as if that was the most ridiculous thing for him to say. I’m no mooch. “Of course I will. I just have to find a job first.”
“You could go to college,” he grumbles, the disappointment in his voice grating on me. I’m well aware of how much I let down my family in my refusal to seek higher education.
While Rafferty is successful making millions of dollars a year, I have a brain that is just rotting away working retail or slinging drinks. I’m a near genius (my parents had my IQ tested when I was six). Apparently, I boggled my teachers with my advanced language and vocabulary skills as well as my uncanny knack for figuring out puzzles and patterns that adults couldn’t comprehend.
My entire life growing up, the expectations on me were high regarding academics and I never disappointed because things came so easily. I graduated first in my class, barely breaking a sweat, and then crushed my parents’ hearts when I decided not to go to college.
Boy did that cause some hair-raising arguments and Rafferty, thick into his hockey career, railed at me as well.
But eventually, they decided to accept my lack of ambition to get a degree and I became a fond sort of disappointment instead.
And I’m still not interested in college. “No thanks. I’m sure there are hundreds of bartending jobs. I’ll get something quick.”
I can read the frustration on Rafferty’s face. “Two weeks. Have a job by then and you can stay.”
“Easy peasy,” I chirp happily, glad that went as smoothly as it did.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” I say, my stomach growling to prove it.
Rafferty pulls out the makings of a hoagie from the refrigerator. “Want to come to the game tonight?” he asks as I watch him work. “I can snag a ticket.”
“Well, duh. There’s never a time I don’t want to see you play.”
Rafferty’s eyes soften and his smile warms my heart. “I love you too, sis. Give me a second.”
As I eat, Rafferty’s fingers fly over his phone and within just a few exchanges, he says, “I added a ticket for you to a group of three I’d already arranged for some friends.”
That tone. That slight flush to his cheeks. That’s interesting. “Are they hot and single guys by any chance?”
“No,” he says quickly, and a little sheepishly. “And gross. None of my friends should be of interest to you. Actually, it’s my friend Tempe and her younger brother Cooper and his friend Danny.”
Oh, that is interesting. That slight rise to his voice when he mentions a woman. “Tempe?” I give him a very pointed look. “You have a friend who’s a girl but not a girlfriend.”
“Well, that depends how you look at it,” he grumbles, raking his fingers through his hair. “It’s kind of a long story.”
I look at him expectantly.
He sighs and rests a hip against the counter before crossing his arms. “I kind of hooked up with a woman awhile back and since then, she’s been stalking me.”
“Oh wow… does that mean I can actually give you hell for being irresponsible? See how you like it?”
“Bite me,” he growls, and I laugh. “At any rate, I was in this grocery store and I saw my stalker—her name’s Tansy—and she was coming my way.”
I lean forward, intrigued by my brother’s tale. Nothing that interesting ever happens to him.
“And I sort of panicked, grabbed the nearest store clerk and kissed her so that Tansy would think I was with someone else.”
He pauses and looks at me expectantly to see if I’m following. “Go on,” I drawl.
“Anyway, the store clerk—”
“I’m guessing her name is Tempe,” I insert.
“Yeah. Tempe. Anyway, Tempe played along with it, pretending to be my girlfriend. Except Tansy didn’t really buy it, so we’re continuing the charade. I’m paying Tempe to play a role and hopefully Tansy will get the hint and leave me alone.”
Okay… cute story but I feel like he’s leaving something out. “She’s your paid girlfriend? Why is she coming to the game then?”
Rafferty shrugs. “I just wanted to do something nice. She’s taking care of her mom and little brother. I went over there and helped do some stuff and met her brother, who seems like a really good kid. It seemed the right thing to do to offer them tickets to a game.”
Notably, my jaw sags a bit in surprise because this is too freaking funny to even comprehend that my brother got wrapped up in something so ridiculously… un-Rafferty-like. “So, let me get this straight… you’re paying a woman to pretend to be your girlfriend because of Tansy, and now you might actually like her? That’s… kind of romantic, in a twisted sort of way.”
“Wait a minute,” he snaps, straightening up and holding out a hand. “Who said I liked her?”
“I did.” I wink at my brother because he’s so obvious. “Because you went to her house and helped her mom and then got her and her brother hockey tickets.”
“That’s just an added bonus for her helping me out.”
“Whatever.” I laugh, poking him playfully in the ribs. “I’m looking forward to meeting this Tempe. Sounds like a hoot.”
“You behave around her,” he warns, shoving his finger in my face and I attempt to bat it away.
“Of course, I will,” I promise with a sly grin.
Rafferty stares at me hard, as if to cow me into good behavior, but I will not moo for the man. He grunts a curse and turns his wrist over to look at his watch. “I need to go. You good with taking an Uber to the arena?”
“Yup. I’ll get settled in and then I want to take a shower to wash off the stink of bus.”
Rafferty wraps me up in another hug, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Glad you’re here.”
I squeeze him back hard. “Glad to be here.”
I walk Rafferty to the door and he pulls off an extra house key for me. “Alarm code is 5-2-4-4.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking at the key and hoping it represents not just a new start, but leaving the immediate past far behind me. “Play hard tonight.”
“Be good tonight,” he retorts and then he’s gone.
I lock the door behind him and clean up my mess in the kitchen. I then take my luggage into the spare bedroom and put it all away in the dresser as well as hang up other items in the closet. I unpack my toiletries in the guest bathroom.
It’s only after I have a second beer opened that I call my mom. It’s time to face the music with my parents.
Daniel and Marie Abrams are the most loving, supportive parents two kids could ever hope to have. It’s why it hurts so much every time I think I let them down.
I flop onto the couch when my mother answers. “Farren? Everything okay?”
“Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound upbeat but the hesitancy in my voice belies my dread at telling her I’m in Pittsburgh. “Listen… I decided to visit Rafferty.”
“Oh,” she says, a little bewildered. “So that means you won’t be here for Christmas?”
It’s four days away and that’s a legitimate ask. “Actually… I think I’m going to stay here for a bit. A little change of scenery.”
She’s silent a moment. “And your job?”
“I quit.” I wince, waiting for more questions.
It’s the one I dread too. “What about Derek?”
I sigh, feeling the heaviness of having to explain this to my mom. “It didn’t work out and—”
“What happened?” she asks, worry in her voice, and I’m not sure if it’s for him or for me. My parents liked Derek well enough, but they’d only met him a few times.
“It just didn’t work out,” I say with a sigh, hoping the true fatigue in my voice in discussing a relationship that ended months ago and never really felt that deep to me to begin with puts off further questions.
“Okay,” she says softly. “And… you know if you want to move back home with me and your father, you’re always welcome.”
“I know,” I say, a surge of fondness and deep love cresting like a tidal wave. Despite the fact I’m always on edge because I feel like a constant disappointment, I know I have a spot to land with them if I need it. “But I’m going to hang here with Rafferty for a bit.”
“I’m just glad Rafferty won’t be alone for the holidays,” she murmurs with the happiness of a mom at peace knowing her kids are all right, at least for the immediate future.
We talk for a bit more, lapsing into easy conversation. I love my parents so much, just like I love Rafferty. It’s hard being under the burden of expectations, especially when I’m not even sure if they’re real or not, but never once have I doubted my parents’ devotion to me. I’m just never sure if they really like how I turned out.
Regardless, the pang of loneliness feels diminished when I hang up because no matter how much I might fuck up my life on any given occasion, my family’s love is unconditional.
I settle back on the couch and tap my phone in contemplation. I definitely don’t have to be lonely in all ways while I’m here in Pittsburgh. There’s someone who’s been on my mind the past few months and it seems silly not to reach out.
I’m starting with a blank slate.
A new chapter in my life.
Typical Farren… I’m restless, craving something… more.
I scroll through my texts, find the conversation I have going with him, and see it’s been almost six weeks since we last spoke. My fingers tap out a quick, to-the-point message. Surprise… I’m in town. Want to get together?
Almost instantly, I see the dancing three dots indicating a reply is forthcoming and why is my pulse skittering in anticipation?
His reply is short, but exactly what I want to hear. You bet your ass I do.
No stopping the smile that comes to my face, and I don’t even try to quell the galloping of my heart. Admittedly, no one has ever perked my interest like this, and no one has ever caused my blood to race the way it is right now, just from a single text.
When? I type back.
Let’s talk tonight. More dancing dots as he types. Assume you’re going to the game?
Not exactly the passionate response I’d expected or the definitive plans for us to romp around naked in his bed. But he’s smart for inviting conversation first, because this is going to be tricky.
If my brother knew that I had hooked up with his teammate and close friend, North Paquette, on the two times I’d visited him before, he’d lose his shit.
Okay. Talk tonight after the game, I write back.
