Kane

“She moved in?” Blake’s mouth hangs open as he leans against the bar, beer bottle frozen in midair.

I don’t usually go out drinking after games anymore, but Blake had been bugging me all day about Brynne. And, in all honestly, I hate keeping this fucking secret. I need to talk to someone. Especially since I’ll be spending the next few nights alone in a hotel room. Without Brynne. And without my kid.

“Please tell me you didn’t ask her to marry you.”

I wince, and Blake groans.

“Who’s getting married?” A large hand slaps me hard on the back, and I’m greeted by familiar blue eyes.

“Carter ‘The Crusher’ Bennet,” Blake says, standing from his stool and taking the man’s hand. “God, it’s been a long time. What are you doing here? You still working for that rag piece? ‘Cause if you’re looking for some good gossip, this guy—” He shoves his thumb at me and winks, “—has some pretty good shit you might be interested in.”

“Really?” Carter’s brows go up.

“Thanks, asshole.” I glare at Blake, then turn to Carter, shaking his hand. The guy used to be a pretty good hockey player before he busted his knee up. Only played with him a season, but I’ve seen him around, covering games for whatever paper he works for. “Last I heard, you got yourself hitched and had a kid.”

“And one on the way,” Carter says, grinning, pulling out his phone and bringing up a picture of a very pregnant brunette holding a little boy.

“Congrats, man. Good looking family.”

Blake grunts. “Whatever Kool-Aid you two have been drinking, just keep it the hell away from me.”

Carter raises an eyebrow at me. “You had a kid?”

The guy was always one to read between the lines. Guess that’s what makes him a good reporter. But the last thing I need is my relationship with Brynne getting out, not without her approval. She’d have my fucking head on a spike.

I take a swig of my beer, before answering. I want to shout it from the rooftops. Show my own damn pictures. But I promised Brynne. I don’t know what the hell difference two weeks makes, but I’ll give them to her.

Because I know she’s terrified. She’s one of the strongest people I know. But even steel can bend when put under extreme weight. And these past two years have been a pressure cooker.

“It’s complicated,” I mutter into my bottle.

Carter leans on the bar, signaling the bartender to bring him a drink. “As in, you don’t know if you have a kid, or you don’t know if it’s yours?”

“As in, he knocked up Coach’s daughter,” Blake offers, tilting his beer to his lips and draining it.

Fuck, Blake. I want to hit the guy. He doesn’t usually drink, but something’s eating at him tonight, and it’s clear I’ve got some sort of target on my head.

“Brynne Jacobs?” Carter asks, his eyes going wide.

“One and only,” Blake says, as if he’s enjoying himself.

Asshat.

Carter whistles. “Damn, Madden. You got a death wish or something? I’m surprised Jacobs hasn’t traded your sorry ass.”

I glare at Blake, before mumbling, “He doesn’t know yet. And I’d appreciate you both keeping your mouths shut about it until I get the chance to talk to him.”

Carter nods, but there’s something in Blake’s eyes that makes me uneasy.

The guy is one of my best friends, and I trust him with my life, but he’s got a major stick up his ass right now.

“I mean it, Bennett,” I say to Carter. “You can run the story in a few weeks. But I need time.”

“Okay.” He slaps my back again. I haven’t spent a lot of time with the guy, but I trust him.

“Thanks.”

Blake is ordering another drink when Carter walks away.

“You going to tell me what your problem is, or am I going to have to beat it out of you? Because, right now, the second option sounds pretty good.”

He drains half of the beer the bartender hands him, his jaw clenching, eyes burning with something I can’t figure out.

“I’m serious. You can’t tell people about Brynne and I. Not yet.”

“Fine,” he mutters, finishing his beer, then swaying on his stool.

“You’re an idiot. You know that?”

He grunts, and we sit in silence for a few minutes while I wait for him to tell me what’s really bothering him.

“You hear from Kiley?” he finally asks.

I place my beer down on the bar and study him. He and Sebastian are the only people who know about my sister. I was in a bad place when she showed up. And it was Blake who’d spoken with her. Who’d tried to help her.

I hadn’t told him about my last encounter with her because I knew he was already too involved. He always cared too damn much about everyone but himself.

“She came by my apartment a few days ago.”

“You saw her?” His gray eyes widen, and there’s a hint of anger there, an accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because it’s none of your business. Because the girl is bad news. Because I saw the way you looked at her. Because you’re my best friend, and she’ll rip your fricking heart out of your chest.

I lift a shoulder, then let it drop. “I only saw her for a minute. Outside the building. She wanted money.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought I saw her.”

“When?”

“Couple nights back.” His knuckles go white around the bottle he’s holding. “She didn’t look good. But when I called out her name, she looked straight at me, then took off.”

I exhale a slow, uneven breath. “She’s a junkie. You don’t want to get involved-”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know the signs.” I shake my head at him. “Can’t go through that again.”

“She’s your sister.”

“Half-sister,” I correct. “And until a year ago, I didn’t even know she existed.”

“That’s cold, man.”

“No, it’s reality. And it’s not my fucking problem. You want to go down to the corner of Third and William and save all the meth heads, be my guest.” I push my stool back, knowing I sound like a complete asshole. But I have a family to protect now. “If I thought I could save her, I would. But we both know there’s nothing we can do, unless the person actually wants help.”

“She’s just a kid.”

“She’s almost twenty.” I shift off the stool, ready to go back to my hotel room. “Look. I’m not trying to sound like a dick. If she wants help. I’ll be there for her. But I’ve got Brynne to think about. I’m already walking a thin wire with her, and she’s still messed up about Sam. It’s just a fucking terrible time to have to deal with this.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But he’s always been a bleeding heart. Always bringing in the strays. Women and dogs. He hasn’t had a healthy relationship ever because of it.

“Stop trying to fix everyone else’s problems, and fix your own.”

“I don’t have any problems.” He lifts his bottle and gives me a forced smile. “Living the dream.”

I grunt, pushing away from the bar. “Good, then you can pay for the drinks.”