by Lisa Childs
“You’re not always right,” he said.
She glanced toward the hall. The crowd stepped back as Brooks emerged from the bathroom. He had his arms around two teenagers. Fortunately, the kids were no longer swinging at each other. Instead they shook hands, at Brooks’s urging. That might be how he handled violence on the ice, but she needed to talk to those kids. With Brooks in the way, she couldn’t immediately identify them.
Ryan stepped between her and the scene, drawing her attention back to him.
“No, I’m not always right,” she agreed. She had been so certain that Brooks would have been a bad influence on the kids.
“You are right about him,” Ryan said somberly.
Startled, Priscilla turned fully toward the boy. As loyal as the Hoovers were to each other, she had to have misunderstood. “What do you mean?”
“You shouldn’t have hired him,” Ryan said.
She could have pointed out that she hadn’t, that his father had gone over her head to Principal Drover. But instead she said, “You wanted him as your coach! You TP’d my house when you believed I hadn’t hired him.”
“I hadn’t thought it through—what it would be like having my big brother as my coach.” He lifted his broad shoulders in a sheepish shrug.
“Do you think he’s too hard on you?” Coming from a professional league, maybe Brooks expected too much of a high school team. She’d watched his practices, though, and hadn’t noticed any undue pressure. But that had been before the media had found out he was coaching. Now the whole country had an eye on him.
Ryan shook his head. “He’s not as hard as Coach Cook. He wants to make sure we don’t get hurt.”
“So he’s too soft?” She glanced around, wishing Brad would join them. The youngest Hoover often had to translate for his less articulate brother.
“Nah, it’s not about his coaching. He’s a good coach.” There was the famous Hoover loyalty she’d thought he lacked.
“Then I don’t understand,” she said, summoning her patience when she really wanted to corral the boys who’d been fighting. But she doubted she would have an opportunity for an open discussion with Ryan again. “Why shouldn’t I have hired him?”
“Because you knew he wouldn’t stick around.”
Dread almost overwhelmed her. “He’s leaving?”
“Not yet, but he will,” the kid said with total certainty. “Once he’s cleared to play again he’ll be taking off.”
“But he has the baby now,” she reminded him. “What will he do with her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But if her mom doesn’t come back, I think he’s gonna give her up for adoption.”
“He would do that?” He would give away a baby? She’d wanted hers so badly and hadn’t been able to keep her. Tears threatened, but she blinked fast, refusing to let them sting, let alone fall.
“He’s not a dad,” Ryan said.
“But he spends so much time with her. He seems to care about her.” He’d given her a name.
“And that’s probably why he’ll give her up. He knows himself. Hell—heck, you know him. You knew him for a long time. Did you ever think he’d be a dad?”
“No,” she admitted.
“He’s not a coach, either,” Ryan said.
“But you said that he’s a good coach,” she reminded him.
“He’s a good coach, but he’s a great player,” Ryan explained. Maybe Brad wasn’t the smarter one of the two. This Hoover had more going on than he had allowed anyone to believe. “Brooks needs to be playing.”
“I know that,” she admitted.
He wouldn’t care about Faith or Priscilla in the way they deserved to be loved. Just like when he’d been a kid, all he cared about was hockey.
“Good.” Ryan sighed, his shoulders drooping as if the tension had eased from them. He had really been worried about his older brother. She suspected he idolized the man. “I thought you might think he was gonna stick around, that he might be the guy…you know.”
“The guy?”
“The guy for you.”
She laughed, not at him but at her own foolishness. For just a little bit she had entertained the silly dream that the two of them could be more than boss and employee, more than old schoolmates. She assured his brother and reminded herself, “Brooks Hoover is definitely not the guy for me.”
BROOKS SUCKED IN a breath of surprise. He’d seen Priscilla in deep conversation with Ryan and had wanted to know what they were talking about. But that would teach him for eavesdropping, because as the old saying claimed, you never heard anything good about yourself. Hell, a month ago, he would have been relieved to learn that Priscilla had no illusions about him.
Even now he should be relieved that she’d woven no romantic fantasies of happily ever after with him. He had decided long ago that, given his genes, he wasn’t capable of it.
Priscilla’s brow furrowed as she stared at him, probably trying to figure out if she’d hurt his feelings or not. He grinned, trying to assure her that her remark was no big deal.
“Where are the fighters?” she asked.
“Maureen’s getting ’em ice packs.”
“Are they in the kitchen, then? I need to talk to them.”
“Wh-why?” Ryan asked, grabbing her arm again. “Brooks broke up the fight. It’s over.”
She turned to his brother, her expression suspicious. She must have caught on, as he just had, that Ryan was trying to run interference. “What’s going on here? It’s almost as if nobody wants me to see who was fighting.”
“Because we don’t,” Brooks admitted.
“I need to know,” she insisted, her face flushing with indignation. “Fighting on school grounds means an automatic suspension.” She nodded as if she’d answered her own question. “And from after-school sports teams.”
“Can’t you just bend the rule this one time?” Ryan implored her.
She glanced from Brooks to Ryan and back again. “I now know who one of them is.”
Brooks pushed his hand through his hair. “My most critical player.”
“If you suspend him, we’ll have to forfeit every game,” Ryan said. “We won’t even be able to play.”
And with nothing to do, Brooks would have no reason to stay in Trout Creek.
Chapter Fourteen
For once Brooks didn’t stumble over the shoes in the foyer. Someone had actually put them away in the seldom-used hall closet. Since Faith had come into their lives, Myrtle had been around more often to clean, and his dad was making the boys pick up after themselves, too.
The first thing Brooks did was check the bassinet in his bedroom. She was back, the tiny pink bundle who had turned his life upside down. She’d been with Myrtle for a few days, and the house was eerily quiet even with teenage boys. How would he just give the baby up? Even if it was best for her, as his brothers had suggested?
He didn’t think he could be that selfless. Faith slept peacefully, but he doubted he would. Now he would never know if there was something he could have done if he couldn’t play hockey. He’d never know if he would have been a good coach.
Instead of trying to sleep, he decided on television and a beer. But the family room was dark. The old man must have gone to bed after he’d put down the sleeping baby. So Brooks flipped the light switch.
Two bodies sprang apart on the sofa, one rolling onto the floor with a bang and an oath.
“Damn!” Brooks turned away from more skin than he’d ever wanted to see—his father’s and Myrtle’s. “Sorry,” he mumbled, backing toward the door, his face hot with embarrassment.
“Damn,” Rex muttered.
“I didn’t mean to barge in on…” His worst nightmare. No one wanted to catch his parent like that. But in a way, it was good to know the old man had a personal life, that he hadn’t stopped living after his wife left him. He’d found a really nice, trustworthy woman this time.
Brooks headed into his room. But before he could close the door—and go
uge out his eyeballs at what he’d seen—his dad stepped inside with him.
“Sorry you, uh, walked in on that,” Rex murmured, his face flaming red.
“You’re lucky it was me and not the boys.”
“They called and said they had to take care of something. So I extended their curfew for an hour.”
Take care of something? Brooks hoped they’d given their dad more of an explanation than that.
“And I thought you’d be out late with Miss Andrews,” his dad continued.
“Why would you think that? We weren’t on a date. I was just a chaperone.” A grin tugged at his lips. “I didn’t think I would need to chaperone at home, too.” He hadn’t wanted young babysitters because he’d worried about his brothers distracting them from taking care of Faith. He hadn’t thought he had to worry about his dad.
“Uh, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now,” his father admitted.
Brooks nodded. He remembered Myrtle helping him care for another baby—Brad. Back then Brooks had just thought she’d been chipping in like everyone else in Trout Creek. “For a long while now.”
Rex nodded in turn.
“And Mom’s been gone even longer,” Brooks said. It was well past time that his father moved on. “I think Myrtle is great.”
His dad grinned with a happiness Brooks could never remember seeing on the old man’s face before. “Yeah, I think she’s pretty great, too.”
For the first time since awakening from that coma, Brooks reached out to his father and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”
“You know who else I think is great?”
Brooks glanced toward his sleeping daughter. “Yeah, Grandpa?”
“Well, Faith, of course,” he said. “But I was actually talking about Priscilla Andrews.”
Brooks laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“No, really. I think she’s a wonderful young woman.”
“When did you come to that conclusion?” he asked wryly. “The first time she suspended Ryan? Or when she refused to hire me?”
“I didn’t say I always agree with her.” Rex grinned. “But she’s smart. And strong.”
Brooks studied his father. Once again he suspected the old man knew what had brought Priscilla home to Trout Creek. But Brooks didn’t want to hear it from him; he wanted to hear it from her.
“She’s independent,” Brooks added. “Self-reliant. That’s what you need to be teaching the boys.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stop cleaning up their messes for them,” he said in response. Faith murmured in her sleep just then and let out a wistful little sigh. “And for me…”
“You’re going to be able to do that, you think?” Grandpa stepped closer to the bassinet and adjusted the light blanket over the baby’s tiny shoulders. “You’re going to be able to let her get hurt and not do anything to try to fix it?”
Brooks gazed down at the sleeping baby. “No. But they have got to grow up sometime. I have to grow up sometime.”
“So grow up,” his dad told him.
“That means making my own decisions,” Brooks warned him. “About playing.” After tonight, his coaching job was probably over anyway. “About staying.” He stared down at the baby. “About Faith.”
“Mrs. Everly stopped by tonight.”
He groaned, regretting that he’d been out. “She did? And I missed her?”
“It was an unannounced visit, so she could check up on us.”
“She didn’t surprise you like I did…?”
The old man laughed. “No, she was here much earlier. She said that Miss Andrews had been keeping an eye on things for her and that she was sure you were doing a great job with Faith.”
“What!” So Priscilla had been spying on him.
“But since Priscilla told her she couldn’t check on you anymore, Mrs. Everly needed to make an official visit herself.”
“So Priscilla quit?”
“Yup, but she assured the social worker you were doing fine.”
He wasn’t fine. And he suspected that neither was she right now.
HEARING THE ENGINE outside the cabin, Priscilla grimaced. She would probably awaken to more toilet paper streamers hanging from her trees come morning. But she wasn’t so sure who’d be doing the TPing this time. She stepped closer to the window and peered out—right into a man’s eyes. A scream slipped through her lips, but it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear her up at the lodge. No one could protect her from this man.
Her hand shaking, Priscilla opened the door. Brooks still wore his dark suit, and she wore her dress, although she’d kicked off those merciless shoes.
“I know you’re mad,” she said. “Go ahead and yell. I won’t bend the rule about the suspension.”
“Not even for Adam?” Brooks asked as he stepped inside. Instead of being angry, he seemed almost sympathetic. “He’s your nephew.”
She sighed. “I know. Believe me, I know. Maureen’s been yelling at me. In fact she’s probably out there helping your brothers TP my trees.”
He laughed. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“You’d lie for them,” she said. “You must be mad, too. I had to suspend Adam and Wes. I can’t believe Adam got in a fight.” She’d thought for certain she would find Brad in the kitchen with an ice pack on his eye. Instead it had been her sweet, easygoing nephew.
“I gotta admit I’ve wanted to punch Wes a time or two myself,” Brooks confessed. “The kid could provoke a nun to violence.”
“But I can’t not punish Adam,” she persisted. “He broke a rule.”
“He’s my only goalie. I can’t put anyone else in the net. We’ll have to forfeit the season.”
“Will you leave?” she asked with a certain amount of dread as she remembered his brother’s warning. And now he wouldn’t have a job.
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, but his dark gaze caught hers and held. “I don’t know if I have a reason to stay.”
She swallowed hard. “Faith?”
“Faith in my team? Adam wasn’t a good goalie, but he was better than no goalie.”
“I meant Faith, your daughter.”
He nodded. “I know. You thought I forgot her again—like at the restaurant that day.”
“Could you forget about her? If you gave her up?” Priscilla had worried about growing too attached, because she was certain the little girl’s mother would return to claim her. But of course Brooks had other options than single parenthood.
“Ryan told you?”
“He was trying to stall, so he was rambling. I wasn’t sure if it was true or not.” Until now. She glimpsed the turmoil in Brooks’s eyes. But was it over giving Faith up or keeping her?
“I don’t know if I could do it.” He pushed a hand through his disheveled curls. “I just don’t know. Her mom hasn’t turned up. You’d think that if she saw the press about me, she would contact me to find out why the baby wasn’t mentioned. She was able to do it—to just walk away and not look back. Like my mom.”
He was afraid, Priscilla realized. Worried that he was like his mother. “I wasn’t able to…” She swallowed the lump of emotion that rushed up. “I wasn’t able to forget.”
“Priscilla?” He flinched, as if he felt her pain. “What are you saying?”
“I had a baby, too.”
“Oh my God. I didn’t know. Nobody’s said anything. Did you have to give her up?”
Priscilla blinked, fighting back tears. “No. I lost her.”
“Oh my God!” He stepped closer and slid his arms around her, as if he could absorb her pain. “She died?”
“Courtney.” Her voice cracked as she said her baby’s name aloud for the first time in years. “She was eight weeks old. She died from meningitis. She just got so sick, so fast. There was nothing the doctors could do for her. They told me there was nothing I could have done.”
“But you didn’t believe them?”
“No.” She struggled for breath as sobs r
acked her. “And neither did Owen.”
“Owen?”
“My ex.”
“The son of a bitch.” Brooks cursed. “How dare he—”
“He never said it. But I saw it in his eyes every time he looked at me. The blame. I couldn’t stand him looking at me. So I just left.” And divorce papers had followed her not long after she’d settled back in Trout Creek.
“He was wrong,” Brooks said, easing away to gently cup her face in his palms. He tipped her chin up, so she had to meet his gaze. “He was wrong to blame you for something that wasn’t your fault. And he was wrong to let you go.”
“It’s not fair,” she murmured, the tears falling. It wasn’t fair that her baby had died. And it wasn’t fair that Brooks Hoover was being so sweet, so wonderful, that she found herself falling for him.
“I know,” he agreed. He held her close again, his arms tight around her. “I’m so sorry. And so insensitive. I never should have asked you to watch Faith.”
“No, you shouldn’t have trusted me,” she agreed.
He eased back, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Damn it, woman. You know you weren’t to blame. There’s no way you would let a child come to harm. Faith was safe and secure with you. But it must have been hard for you to see her, to hold her…”
Priscilla nodded. “At first. But then it got easier.”
“I saw your face. I knew you were hurting.” His voice was thick with self-disgust.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “You didn’t know. No one but my family does.”
“I’m glad you told me,” he said.
She hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t wanted him any closer than she’d already let him, especially now, when she knew he wouldn’t stay. But she’d also wanted him to realize how hard it would be for him to give up Faith.
“Is that why you agreed to spy on us for Mrs. Everly?” he asked. “To make sure Faith was okay?”
She tensed. “You know?”
“My dad told me.”
“Of course.” There was nothing the sheriff didn’t know. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it, but you’ve kept her safe.” More than she’d done for her baby.