Twelve
Porter
A wedding on a Tuesday. Only in a hockey family when it was the middle of the season.
I adjusted my tie, dying to loosen it and take it off, but we still had pictures to take.
McKenna made a beautiful bride, and I guess Parker looked okay, too. The real star of the show though, and I knew Ken agreed, was his six-year-old daughter.
Parker had sole custody of Ella. From what I understood, the mom didn’t want her and Parker, at barely eighteen years old, stepped up right away, raising her on his own from day one. He’d been a good hockey player but put it aside to raise Ella.
So I guess I couldn’t hate on the guy too badly.
Ken and Parker met at the local rink, of all places, and I say that because McKenna didn’t skate. What she was doing at an ice rink was way over my head, but regardless, she was there, and had Dad come watch him one day.
Parker was brought into the Beloit Enforcers fold within a week and had been playing with them for a little over two years.
Parker and Ken dating was a whole different issue but whatever. It worked out, if this wedding was any indication.
Right now, the entire fam was freezing our asses off half a block from the Historic Pabst building where they were married, and where dinner and the reception would ensue. I’m sure the pictures would turn out great, with the old-school lights and this funky wood log and steel structure Ken and Parker were currently in front of, but damn, it was twenty degrees out.
I suppose, being December, I should be thankful it wasn’t below zero, but it was cold.
To my left was Mom, dabbing at her eyes, and to my right was Ace, holding McKenna’s flowers. I leaned back to see further down the line, wanting a glimpse of her.
Asher tried to stay back at the Pabst building but McKenna wouldn’t let her. Told her she wanted Asher in the pictures, too.
Every time I saw her, Asher got prettier and prettier. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was growing comfortable with my family or if it was just the whole distance making you fonder thing, but damn.
The last time I’d seen her was the weekend she was down in South Carolina. When I confronted Ace about it a few days after Asher left, my sister just laughed over the phone and told me I would thank her in time.
Little did she know, I thanked her already.
Those few days gave me an insight into Asher that I didn’t have before. She was quiet, yes. She had her secrets, sure. But when she let loose? When she smiled and laughed?
Day. Made.
Her last night at my place, it was Asher who asked if we could watch a movie before heading to our separate sleep places.
Separate sleep places that didn’t happen a single night while she was there. Sleeping remained completely G-rated, but I definitely felt like I was making some headway with her.
Slowly, but surely. I decided that weekend that I was completely okay looking at this like it was a marathon, not a sprint. Some things took time and were well worth the fight in the end.
But then, after making these decisions, I hadn’t heard a word from her. Not since dropping her off at the airport that Sunday. I mean, I suppose I could have texted her too, but…
I guess, in the end, I just wasn’t sure of anything when it came to Asher. I didn’t know what was too fast, and what was too slow.
I just knew that I was attracted to her and wanted to see if something could happen there.
When I got to the house last night, it was late and I couldn’t very well make an excuse to go down to the guest house to say hello. It was ten. You didn’t make house calls at ten at night.
And then this morning, the girls all left to get their hair and faces made up well before I woke up, so the first time I was able to see Asher was right before the ceremony, when I slid onto the bench at the opposite end of where she already sat with my parents, brothers, and sisters-in-law.
Because my spot had been saved on the end next to Cael, I couldn’t very well go to the other end and sit next to Asher, as badly as I wanted to talk to her. I sat through McKenna’s ceremony, knowing that Asher sat feet away from me, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
Both Myke and Avery were bridesmaids, and as such, each wore a deep gray dress, but Avery, I guess, talked Asher into a lighter gray dress. Or so I overheard.
And, fuck, what a dress it was on her.
It was strapless and floor length, and had these clear gem things on the top. It was all hidden under the warmth of a sweater right now though, as we all stood freezing our asses off for pictures.
Done waiting for a good time to talk to her, I stepped back and walked behind my family, moving to Asher’s side.
“How are you?” I whispered, leaning into her while facing forward, keeping my eyes trained on Ken and her new husband.
They weren’t the three most stellar words to be spoken after six weeks or so of not seeing or talking to her.
I really lost a lot of my mojo when it came to Asher.
She looked over at me, which obviously resulted in me looking at her, and shrugged her shoulders up. “Okay,” she whispered back.
She was so fucking gorgeous. Her face was all sorts of made up today and her hair was curled and down. I wanted to thread my fingers through it, test the thickness and heaviness of it, as I stared into her eyes. I wanted to watch as the green gave way to the reds, or watch as the blues darkened.
I wanted to know what colors did what.
Would they show her happy? Sad? Quiet, upset, concerned?
I wanted to know if the fact they were currently bright green, with rich blue and red specks, was because she was happy to be included in my family.
If there was one thing I learned from my calls home and texts with Ace, it was that Asher was more than welcomed into the Prescott fold.
Did that make her happy? Or was she making plans on leaving again?
God, I hoped not. I didn’t have enough time to truly get to know her yet.
I stepped closer to her, so that I was almost behind her but still beside her. If I needed an excuse, I could use that I was too close to the sidewalk otherwise.
Hate to be in the way of the passers-by that weren’t really there.
I could see goosebumps on her neck where her sweater didn’t cover and if I looked close enough—because yeah, I was—I could see that she was shivering.
Damn McKenna and her pictures.
I quickly pulled off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders, not bothering to ask her if she was cold. I knew damn well she’d tell me she wasn’t. She was a stubborn one.
Asher jumped when the warm coat settled on her shoulders and she looked back at me, her eyes wide, and I got one of my answers to my earlier thoughts.
When startled, the blues in her eyes darkened to a near black, making the red specks appear almost orange.
“Sorry. You’re cold.” I lifted my brows, daring her to deny it, and I knew by watching her face that she was going to but thought better of it.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
She turned her attention toward the bride and groom again and I widened my stance, crossing my arms over my chest to ward off the chill now that I was without my jacket. I wasn’t super cold, not by any means. I would be just fine without my jacket for the time being.
I felt bad when I had to take it back from her for a family picture but at least she didn’t look as cold any more. Asher stayed back while the photographer rearranged my parents, siblings, and myself around Ken and Parker. The first picture was just the nine of us, but for the next shot, the photographer had Sydney and Jenna come in to stand next to my brothers.
Jonny’s wife, Jenna, always looked like she had a stick up her ass, and I was surprised she wasn’t complaining about how cold she was. She had a way of ruining family events. Instead, she stood next to Jonny, placing her left hand on his chest. I had the ill-thought that it was so her ring was front and center on the shot. It was one of those eye-knocker rocks, and was much larger than McKenna’s modest rings—but Ken was a modest girl.
Girly, but modest.
It would not surprise me in the least if Jenna was being a bitch subtly. It was what she did.
My nephews, Caleb and Sydney’s boys, were passed around. Three-year-old Brandon ended up standing in front of Caleb, with Brody, a year and a half, on Caleb’s hip. It was too cold for their youngest, Brielle, who was hardly six months old, so she was back at the venue with the nanny Cael and Sydney hired.
I fixed my eyes toward the remaining group, and on Asher, who stood back, watching. Parker’s family was off the side, chatting among themselves and Asher stood by herself now that my family was being arranged for pictures. She had a small smile on her face but it didn’t look like one of those forced ones she sometimes tried to pull off. She looked happy, even if the smile was hardly a tilt of her lips.
“Alright, guys. Here we go,” the photographer said, stepping back with her camera. She was a friend of Mom’s, because there was no way Mom was shooting this wedding. She even said so, not that it had to be said.
McKenna, who had been giggling at something Parker whispered in her ear, held up her hands. “Wait! Asher, get in here, silly.”
I fought a grin as I watched her eyes widen in surprise. She knew that McKenna wanted her in pictures, so why she was so surprised to be included in this particular shot was beyond me. I wondered if I would ever truly know this girl.
If I was successful in my goal, damn straight I would.
“No.” Asher shook her head but her smile was in place. It was still a real one. “You guys just take it.”
“Don’t make me drag you over here,” Ken said, and I looked over to where she stood, hands on her hips and brows up.
“Yeah, c’mon, Ash,” Avery chimed in. “You can stand next to me.”
Or me, I thought. She could totally stand next to me.
“Get over here, woman! It’s too cold,” McKenna ordered.
Asher’s eyes darted to mine and I had to stop myself from dancing in my spot.
That’s right. She looked at me. For reassurance?
Sure. Why the hell not.
She bit her bottom lip and I watched as her shoulders rose with a deep breath before she walked over to the group.
“You can stand—” the photographer started, but I raised my hand.
“There’s plenty of room right here.”
And there was. Because I was on the end and there wasn’t anyone in front of me, and she was such a short shit next to me. I was pretty sure that back at the Pabst building, she’d been wearing flip flops, but she—and my sisters, for that matter—was totally wearing those Ugg boots they all seemed to favor. And because of those damned boots, she could easily stand in front of me and my face would still be in clear view for the photographer’s lens.
“Yeah, that works. In front of Porter,” the photographer agreed, and I watched as Asher walked toward me, her eyes locked on mine. If I were a chick, I’d say it was something from a romantic movie—the slow walk that meant everything in that very moment.
Asher turned to face the photographer, smiling at Sydney beside her. I leaned forward, not caring if my sister-in-law heard me, and whispered, “I didn’t tell you, but you look beautiful.”
She hugged herself, and while I couldn’t make out her face, I did see as her eyes crinkled at the corners.
Before I could say anything else though, the photographer grabbed everyone’s attention and pictures were taken. I smiled and did my part, sticking around when Ken wanted pictures with just our brothers before she did one with just Myke and Avery. When the photograph announced it was time for Parker’s family, I kissed my sister on the cheek. “I’m taking Asher back to the hall.”
I hadn’t told Asher that yet, but the girl was standing to the side, practically blue-lipped and hugging herself tightly. It was hard to remember that this was her first true winter.
“It’s like that, huh?” McKenna grinned up at me. Parker was to her side, but he was holding Ella at his hip and talking to his parents. “I heard you begging the photographer to put her in front of you.”
I could deny it.
But I didn’t want to.
So instead, I answered, “It’s not. Yet.”
Asher
McKenna made a beautiful bride.
In the nearly four months since I wound up in the Prescott fold, I didn’t have a ton of interaction with the second Prescott girl—far more than I had with the oldest, Mykaela, though—but what little time I spent around her, I always felt welcomed.
After the ceremony, I tried to stay back—went as far as hiding out in the bathroom—but Avery found me; told me McKenna wanted to include me in their pictures.
…This family.
From day one, I was treated like an honorary Prescott and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
No, that wasn’t right. I did.
It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
In all the foster homes I’d been in growing up, never had I felt as welcomed as I did with the Prescotts. I got a taste of the acceptance with Carter and her brother, Hunter, but I had a front-row seat to an amazing family, all because of a silly accident on the edge of town.
I never felt like I was on the outside looking in with this family.
If Ryleigh and Noah were going into town for the local AHL game to watch Parker play, I was always invited. If Avery wasn’t busy with schoolwork, she was at the guest house, harping on me for not filling my cupboard with more than the essentials.
And let’s not get started on Avery and her shenanigans whenever a Charleston Rockets game was on.
Since leaving Charleston, I may not have heard from Porter, but I certainly heard about him. The more I heard about him though, the more I questioned that weekend.
Why hadn’t I heard from him? Why hadn’t he texted?
I was so thrown when it came to him, more so today, when he went and told me I looked beautiful.
“You want to head back?”
I startled at Porter’s voice, realizing I was zoning in my thoughts. “Are they finished with photos?”
He shrugged, the corners of his lips drawing down as he did so. “We’re done.”
I looked past him and toward his family. It looked to be just McKenna and Parker getting pictures taken now.
Suddenly, an involuntary shiver rushed through my body.
With a chuckle, Porter shouldered off his jacket again. “Your blood’s too thin.”
Trying to protest was futile, so I allowed the warmth of his jacket to encompass me for the second time this afternoon. It was warm from his body, but also, it smelled like him.
A clean, spicy musk.
I tried hard to not close my eyes in the bliss and comfort both his jacket and his smell gave me. “Thank you. For the jacket. Not the jab.” My lips curled up, though.
He chuckled and with his hand on my back—a possessive act that surprisingly didn’t scare me—turned me toward the road. “It wasn’t a jab. You just still have southerner’s blood.”
The sounds of Milwaukee filtered around us, the freeway nearby offering a steady hum as cars drove by. We crossed the road under the red-lit Pabst sign, and then turned to go toward the Pabst Best Place building.
It was a nifty piece of Milwaukee history. The outside was all brick, and the inside still had its old-school vibes—you know, that orangey-brown that was reminiscent of the seventies—but it was an endearing reserve of history.
“You’re in the south now,” I pointed out as we walked up the small ramp to enter the largest of the venue’s courtyards. Heat lamps were set up in the corners and large bulb lights were strung from side to side.
As I walked under the archway into the courtyard, I stepped in front of Porter, but before I could cross under the lights and enter the hall where tables were set for dinner, he took my arm and directed me to a heat lamp.
I frowned. “It’s probably warmer inside.”
He didn’t say anything, just kept on going until we were situated under the warm umbrella.
“Oh my,” I said, my frozen body instantly melting at the heat.
“Thaw you out quicker.” He stood in front of me, close enough to touch yet he took his hand from me and stuffed them in his trousers pockets. “And I’ve spent far too much of my life in Wisconsin. I may be in the south most of the winter, but I’m still a Wisconsin boy.”
I smiled, but couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Rather, I could, but I wasn’t entirely sure I should.
How are you? How have you been? How’s Nico?
The questions remained locked in my head. Porter, meanwhile, didn’t do anything to fix the unease. No, he stood there in front of me, his face turned to the side as if he were watching for people coming through the courtyard. He even looked to be biting the inside of his cheek. Holding back what?
I allowed myself to look at him. His face was clean-shaven today and as I brought my gaze up, I noticed for the first time just how long this boy’s eyelashes were. Porter had amazing eyelashes. Why was it the boys—
“You better?” he finally asked, turning his face back toward me. If he recognized I’d been staring at his profile, he didn’t let on. “It’s about time for dinner.” I looked over in the direction he’d been looking, noticing a clock. Sure enough, it was about that time.
“I’m good.” I crossed my arms under my chest, so very confused about Porter. He threw mixed signals like nobody’s business. Just when I thought he wanted to try something more with me—I mean, sure, our sleeping was completely platonic when I was down in South Carolina, but between the looks and the very occasional touch, I really thought he was going on something—he took ten steps back.
Growing comfortable in one another’s presence over a weekend?
Go radio silent for the next two weeks.
Get all close and touchy, offer his jacket, his hand on my back as we walk?
Don’t say a damned thing while we stand inches from one another.
Quite frankly, I was getting annoyed.
“You can take your jacket back,” I said, uncrossing my arms only to take the thick fabric from my shoulders. I didn’t give him the chance to say no; I took it off quickly and held it out in the small space between us. I looked up at him and lifted a brow in challenge.
Take it.
And then give me some kind of freaking sign, or leave me alone.
Again, voiceless words.
He opened his mouth, but rather than say anything, he took in a breath that I could hear. Letting it out, he pursed his lips ever so slightly and took his jacket back, draping it over his arm and again, put that damned hand of his on my back.
I nearly wiggled out of his touch, but it was so damn comforting.
I shouldn’t like it so much.
But I did.
I really, honestly did.
Mouth shut, I let him guide me away from the heat, under the lights, and into the hall.