by Elle Kennedy
Fucking Jensen. He absolutely overstepped his boundaries.
“Your coach has no idea I’m a drunk, does he?” Dad mutters, and now he’s no longer looking at me. He’s staring at his hands.
“No, he doesn’t,” I mutter back. “I only told him about the accident. And that was just because I needed to tell him something so he’d get off my case about not entering the draft.”
Dad raises his gaze to mine again. “You should’ve told me you didn’t declare.”
“What difference would it have made?”
“A huge one,” he snaps. “It’s bad enough that I woke up the other morning wearing clean underwear and all tucked into bed like a fucking child, with the knowledge that my twenty-one-year-old son is the one who put me there.” His head shifts to Jeff. “And that my other son is running my business because I’m too much of a mess to do it myself. But now you’re telling me you’re passing up the chance to play for the goddamn Bruins so you can take care of my sorry ass?”
He’s breathing hard, his hands shaking so wildly the bottle is close to toppling over. He lifts it to his lips and takes a hurried sip before slamming it on the table.
Jeff and I exchange a wary look. Seeing him drink brings identical frowns to our faces, which causes Dad to groan in anguish.
“Goddamn it, don’t look at me like that. I have to fucking drink this, because the last time I tried to quit cold turkey I ended up in the hospital with seizures.”
I suck in a shocked breath.
So does Jeff.
Dad looks from me to my brother, then addresses us in a voice that rings with despair. “I’m going back to rehab.”
The announcement is greeted with silence.
“I’m serious. I spoke to someone at the state facility I went to last time and asked to be put on the waiting list, but they told me a slot opened up five minutes before I called.” He snorts. “If that’s not divine intervention, I don’t know what is.”
My brother and I remain quiet. We’ve heard this speech before. Many times before. And we’ve learned not to get our hopes up anymore.
Sensing our misgivings, Dad sharpens his tone. “It’ll stick this time. I’m going to make sure of it.”
There’s a beat, and then Jeff clears his throat. “How long is the program?”
“Six months.”
My eyebrows fly up. “That long?”
“With my history, they think that would be best.”
“In-patient?” Jeff asks.
“Yeah.” Dad’s features grow pained. “Two weeks for the detox. Christ, I’m not looking forward to that part.” Then he shakes his head, as if snapping himself out of it. “But I’ll do it. I’ll do it, and it’ll stick. You know why? Because I’m your father.”
Shame pours off him in palpable waves. “My kids shouldn’t be taking care of me. I should be taking care you.” He gives me a hard look. “You shouldn’t be giving up your dreams because of me.” He turns to Jeff. “And neither should you.”
“That’s all good and well,” Jeff says, sounding tired. “But what about the garage? Even if the program sticks, you still won’t be able to work because of your legs. You can handle the administrative stuff, sure. But not the labor.”
“I’ll apply for disability.” Dad pauses. “And I’m going to sell the business.”
My brother does not look pleased about that. Me, I’m still reeling from everything else he’s just told us.
“Kylie and I are only traveling for a couple years,” Jeff says unhappily. “I want to work here when we get back.”
“Then we’ll hire someone to run it until you’re ready to come back. But that someone won’t be your brother, Jeffrey. And it won’t be you, if you don’t want it to be.” He slides his chair back and gingerly gets to his feet, then reaches for the cane leaning against the wall. “I know you boys have heard this before. I know it’ll take a lot more than a few promises to prove I’m serious about this.”
He’s right about that.
“The center is picking me up in an hour,” he says brusquely. “I have to go pack.”
Jeff and I stare at each other again.
Son of a bitch. He’s really going to rehab.
“I don’t expect a hug goodbye, but it’d be nice if you boys called me every once in a while, let me know how you’re doing.” He glances at Jeff. “We’ll talk about the shop when I’m done packing. Not sure if we should close up while I’m gone, or if you want to stick around a while longer. If we do close, I’d appreciate it if you could finish up the current work orders for this week.”
Looking slightly dazed, my brother manages a nod.
“And you…” My father’s bloodshot eyes zero in on me. “You better make it to that Providence practice. Jensen said it’s pretty much a tryout, so don’t screw it up.”
I’ve been silent for so long it takes me a moment to find my voice. “I won’t,” I say hoarsely.
“Good. I expect you to tell me about it when I call you in two weeks. You probably won’t hear from me before that. Not during the detox.” His voice is equally hoarse. “Now get outta here, John. Your brother says you’ve got shit to do today. Jeffrey, we’ll talk shortly.”
A moment later, he’s gone, and we hear his labored footsteps in the hallway, heading toward his bedroom. Suddenly I feel as dazed as Jeff looks, and once again, we gape at each other for several long moments.
“You think he’s for real?” Jeff asks.
“Sure seems like it.” Old doubts creep in, bringing a cagey note to my voice. “Think he’ll manage to stay on the wagon this time?”
“Fuck. I hope so.”
Yeah, me too. But I’ve been burned by my father too many times in the past. Fooled by his promises and his supposed resolve. The cynic in me thinks we’ll be having this same conversation in a year or two or five, and maybe we will. Maybe he’ll sober up, come home in six months, and start drinking again. Or maybe not.
Either way, I’m free.
The realization slams into me with the force of a tidal wave, nearly knocking me out of my chair. I won’t have to live here in May. Won’t have to work here. Dad’ll be on disability, the garage will either be sold or managed by someone else until Jeff is ready to take over, and I’ll be free.
I shoot to my feet, startling my brother. “I have to go. My girlfriend’s waiting for me in the car.”
He blinks. “You have a girlfriend?”
“Yup. I’ll introduce you another time. I’ve really gotta go.”
“John.” His voice stops me before I reach the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“You’ll give me a signed jersey when you make the team, right?”
A smile stretches across my entire face. “Damn right I will.”
I leave the kitchen with the sound of my brother’s laughter at my back and sprint out of the house. From the porch, I see Grace in the pickup, her feet raised on the dashboard and her nose buried in her textbook. Her peripheral vision must have caught the front door flying open, because she lifts her head and turns it toward the porch, and I must still be grinning like a fool, because a little smile curves her sexy lips.
I quickly descend the porch steps and make my way to the truck. It’s still gloomy out. The trees are swaying ominously. The clouds are a thick, dark mass undulating overhead. The sky is more black than gray.
And yet my future has never looked brighter.
Epilogue
Grace
Two Years Later
Man, this executive suite at TD Garden is fancy-pants. I feel like a queen reigning over her kingdom as I lean forward in my plush leather seat and sweep my gaze over the massive arena. Thousands of screaming hockey fans fill the seats, an endless sea of faces, a blur of black and yellow occasionally broken up by the white and turquoise of the Sharks fans who happen to be in attendance.
“This is so intense,” Hannah whispers in my ear, and I know she’s trying to keep her voice down so the three beer-sipping wives
standing five feet away don’t tease us again about our novice status. Or mine, at least. This is Logan’s first season with Boston—he played in the AHL for a year after college, until the Bruins finally decided he was ready and signed him.
Since Garrett had an amazing rookie season last year, I figured Hannah would be an old pro by now, but when we were being led into the private suite, she confessed that she’d sat in the club seats last year because she’d been too intimidated to sit up here alone.
We haven’t stopped marveling since we arrived. Each time the other people milling in the suite turned their heads, the two of us have oohed and aahed about something else. The private bar across the room. The gourmet spread on the granite counter. The seats. The view. No detail has gone un-oohed or un-aahed.
I’m hoping we’ll learn to restrain ourselves after we’ve had a few games under our belts, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this kind of luxury.
“A part of me keeps expecting security to show up and throw us out,” I whisper back. “I’ve never felt so out of place.”
She laughs softly. “Me too. But I’m sure we’ll adjust.” Her green eyes focus on the rink below us. The players are still warming up, and I know the moment her gaze lands on Garrett, because her entire face lights up.
I’m pretty sure the same thing happens to me when I look at Logan.
“Do you think they’ll get a lot of playing time?”
I think it over. “Logan…probably not. Garrett…absolutely. He and Lukov were an unstoppable force of nature last season.” Thinking of Shane Lukov brings a smile to my face. When I met him in person for the first time this summer, he spent ten minutes teasing me mercilessly about the “endorsement” he gave, and how he credits himself for my relationship with his new teammate.
“Okay, I need to ask you something, and no bullshitting me.” Hannah leans in close again. “Do you really love hockey now, or is that just the line you’re feeding Logan?”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing. “Well, I don’t hate it. And I definitely don’t find it as boring anymore, but…” I lower my voice “…I’d still rather watch football.”
She snorts.
The dark-haired woman who slides into the seat beside me is not as amused. “Shame on you, Grace Ivers,” Logan’s mother chides. “I thought we’d succeeded in converting you.”
“Sorry, Jean, not yet.”
She sighs. “Well, I’m encouraged by the ‘yet’. Means there’s still hope that you’ll see the error of your ways.”
Hannah and I laugh.
God, I adore Logan’s mom. She’s sweet and funny and so damn supportive of her sons. Her husband David, on the other hand, is one of the blandest men I’ve ever met in my life, but he’s so good to Jean that I can’t help but like him.
And if I’m being honest, Logan’s father is growing on me too. He’s been sober for nearly two years now, and he seems determined to keep it that way. Though sometimes it’s hard to reconcile the charming man I’ve gotten to know with the drunken mess Logan used to have to scrape off the floor.
Since Jean still refuses to have contact with Ward, Logan’s parents have agreed to alternate their visits to his games. Same rule applies to their visits to our apartment, which is located halfway between Hastings and Boston, making it only a thirty-minute commute for each of us. Once I graduate this year, we’re planning on finding a place in the city. Garrett and Hannah already live here, in a gorgeous brownstone I helped Hannah decorate.
“It’s so funny,” Hannah muses. “Garrett told me that he and Logan have talked about the two of them in Bruins jerseys ever since freshman year. And now it’s actually happening.” She smiles. “I guess some dreams really do come true.”
I follow her gaze, a smile touching my lips as I watch the man I love in the uniform he loves, flying across the ice to the roar of the crowd.
“Yep,” I answer softly. “I guess they do.”
Other Titles by Elle Kennedy
If you enjoyed reading about Logan’s best friend Garrett in The Mistake, pick up the first book in the Off-Campus series, The Deal, to see how Garrett and Hannah fell in love…
For all the Dean fans out there, this cocky player will be the hero of Book #3 in the Off-Campus series! Make sure to sign up for my newsletter to receive updates about the release date and excerpts from the book when they become available.
And if you’re interested in exclusive teasers and just plain fun, join The Locker Room, the super-fun Facebook group run by me, Kristen Callihan, Sarina Bowen, Monica Murphy, and Cora Carmack! Make sure to sign up for The Locker Room newsletter for updates and giveaways!
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Next release: Midnight Captive, featuring a sexy Irish hero and the deadly assassin heroine he betrayed…
If you’re interested in my erotic romance and/or romantic suspense titles, check out these bestselling series:
Killer Instincts
Out of Uniform
After Hours
DreamMakers (with Vivian Arend)
More titles also available on my website.
Author’s Note
One of my favorite parts of the writing process is getting to interact with some pretty awesome people. With every book I write, I meet new people and make new friends, and I can’t thank them enough for their support, assistance and encouragement:
The Locker Room ladies—Kristen, Sarina, Monica and Cora. Chatting with you guys is the highlight of my day! And I have so much love for all the amazing members in the group for making me laugh, introducing me to new books, and posting pics of super-sexy athletes!
Early readers Viv, Jane, Sarina and Kristen for helping me whip Logan into shape.
Extra thanks to Viv, the bestest bestie a girl could ever have.
The amazing and ridiculously patient Zoe York, for holding my hand through the awful business-y stuff!
Nicole Snyder, friend, assistant and overall lifesaver—you’re the absolute best!
The fabulous Ms. Katy Evans, for your endless cheerleading, contagious enthusiasm, and for constantly putting a big smile on my face!
My editor Gwen Hayes and proofreader Sharon Muha—you guys know how much I love you!
Sarah Hansen (Okay Creations) for the gorgeous cover.
My publicist Nina Bocci—I’m not sure how I ever survived before without you.
To all the bloggers and reviewers who helped with cover reveals, posted reviews, and pretty much talked up the series to anyone who would listen—you are amazing.
And to all my readers—your passion and enthusiasm for this series is so darn touching. I love you guys!
About the Author
A USA Today bestselling author, Elle Kennedy grew up in the suburbs of Toronto, Ontario, and holds a BA in English from York University. From an early age, she knew she wanted to be a writer and actively began pursuing that dream when she was a teenager. She loves strong heroines and sexy alpha heroes, and just enough heat and danger to keep things interesting!
Elle loves to hear from her readers. Visit her website www.ellekennedy.com or sign up for her newsletter to receive updates about upcoming books and exclusive excerpts. You can also find her on Facebook or follow her on Twitter (@ElleKennedy).
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Mistake: An Off-Campus Novel
Copyright © 2015 by Elle Kennedy
Kindle Edition
Edited by Gwen Hayes
Proofed by Sharon Muha
Cover Art © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
All rights reserved. No part of this book may reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.