Van is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Loveswept Ebook Original
Copyright (c) 2017 by Sawyer Bennett Excerpt from Reed by Sawyer Bennett copyright (c) 2017 by Sawyer Bennett All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Reed by Sawyer Bennett. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
Ebook ISBN 9780399178429
Cover design: Lynn Andreozzi
Cover photograph: Joseph Clark/Getty Images randomhousebooks.com
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Author's Note
Chapter 1: Van
Chapter 2: Simone
Chapter 3: Van
Chapter 4: Simone
Chapter 5: Van
Chapter 6: Simone
Chapter 7: Van
Chapter 8: Simone
Chapter 9: Van
Chapter 10: Simone
Chapter 11: Van
Chapter 12: Simone
Chapter 13: Van
Chapter 14: Simone
Chapter 15: Van
Chapter 16: Simone
Chapter 17: Van
Chapter 18: Simone
Chapter 19: Van
Chapter 20: Simone
Chapter 21: Van
Chapter 22: Simone
Chapter 23: Van
Chapter 24: Simone
Chapter 25: Van
Chapter 26: Simone
Chapter 27: Van
Chapter 28: Simone
Epilogue: Van
By Sawyer Bennett
About the Author
Excerpt from Reed
Dear Reader, If you are a Cold Fury fan, then the events in this book will seem familiar. That is because Van runs concurrently with Lucas for much of the story. You met Van--a standoffish, blunt badass dude--in Lucas. For point of reference, Van starts when Simone moves into the house she shares with her brother Lucas. Make sense? If not, you can reread chapter 11 of Lucas and you'll be brought up to speed. If you haven't read Lucas, no worries! Van can be read as a complete standalone.
Love, Sawyer
Chapter 1
Van
I know I should get up and hit the gym, but I'm feeling too fucking lazy today. We're in the home stretch of the regular season with the first round of the play-offs starting next week. Our practices have been light since we've clinched the top spot and the coaches want us as fresh as possible. I decide to apply that same reasoning to myself--staying fresh as possible. I'm a procrastinator by nature and I fucking hate working out. It's a necessary evil, but if I can get by missing one without feeling too terribly guilty, I'll do it.
Lucas comes out of his bedroom and heads into the kitchen. I can tell by the subtle waft of cologne that follows him as he walks by the couch where I'm lying that he's going out tonight. I assume he's seeing that woman he met from the museum. He seems pretty taken with her, which works fine by me. He spends a lot of nights at her apartment, so I have this little house to myself much of time. This is good, because I don't like to be around people that much.
Since Lucas and I both came to the team at the same time, the Cold Fury management asked us if we wanted to room together until we had time to settle into the area. This seemed like a good idea to me--Lucas as well--so we rented this little house for six months. It's been good so far and we keep out of each other's way. But I'd been straight up with him a few days ago when he was telling me about this woman he's seeing--I think Stephanie's her name. I'd told him I didn't make a good friend, which is the truth, and since then he's not shared anything personal with me.
It's been all, "I'm ordering a pizza, want in on it?"
Or, "Dude, it's your turn to take the garbage out. It's starting to smell."
Like I said...I'm a procrastinator.
I can hear Lucas rustling around in the refrigerator as I keep my eyes on the news. It's one of the things I'm a little obsessive about, and if I'm around a television at 6 P.M., I've got the news on; first to catch the local, then to catch the national. It's been a habit of mine since I was a little kid, and yes, I was a weird little kid, no thanks to my parents. It's why I got my ass kicked so much in grade school.
There's a knock at the door and I don't even flinch. I'm being lazy, so I can only muster the strength to roll my eyes to look at Lucas. Yeah, he's definitely got a date tonight. I can tell by the way he's dressed and his hair is styled. He stares back at me, holding a water bottle in his hand.
"Are you going to get the door?" he asks before taking a sip of the water.
"Why me?" I drawl.
"Um...because you're closer to it," he suggests, and that's true.
With a heavy sigh, I roll off the couch and take three strides to reach the front door. Like I said, this house is tiny, tiny, tiny.
I swing the door open, not knowing if it's a neighbor, a Jehovah's Witness, or perhaps even a crazed fan. Don't give a fuck either...whichever it is, they're not getting my time.
My entire body seems to lock for a moment, though, when I take in the beautiful woman standing on the doorstep. She's got several pieces of luggage on the porch at her feet, and I have to admit, this is the craziest stalker incident I've ever heard of.
Too bad she's crazy, because she's fucking hot as hell. Long brown hair with lighter streaks of caramel, and hazel eyes that sparkle with intense curiosity as she watches me. I'm wondering if her fan crush is on me or Lucas.
But then it hits me...brown hair, hazel eyes.
Fuck, this is Lucas's sister. I've seen the picture of his family on the entertainment unit that houses our living room TV and I recognize her.
Sweeping a hand from Lucas's direction toward the woman on the front porch, I step back a bit so Lucas can see her and ask him, "Something you're not telling me?"
"That's my sister," he says as he walks toward us.
Yeah, figured that one out on my own. Just not sure why she's here at our house.
With luggage.
I turn to look back at his sister as Lucas approaches, and I'm momentarily startled by the way she's checking me out. Eyes actually dragging down my body, and back up again with pure female appreciation. If I didn't have such a hard shell in place, I'd actually be a little weirded out that one of my teammate's family members would be so obvious, but truth be told, I just don't give a fuck.
"What are you doing here?" Lucas snaps at his sister as he comes to the door. I know he told me her name before, but fuck if I can remember it.
She doesn't even jolt at her brother's harsh tone but lazily slides her eyes to him. She gives him a bright smile and then pushes right past me to enter the house. "I'm staying."
As she moves by me, she pats me on the arm and says in a silky, purring voice, "Can you bring those in for me?"
Her touch is light, her scent is sweet, and I have no reaction one way or the other. Because I don't let myself react to women like that.
Ever.
"You're not staying, Simone," Lucas says with frustration. "You said you were going back to school."
So her name's Simone?
I suppose the name fits her. Goes well with her pretty French Canadian accent.
I turn to watch the siblings square off, still holding the door open in case
Lucas throws her out.
"Changed my mind," she says firmly, crossing her arms over her chest, staking her position. "And I can't stay long term at Max's because I'm taking up one of the boys' rooms and he needs it back. I like this area, I love my brothers, so I'm staying."
Lucas straightens, squares his shoulders, and says back just as firmly, "Not here you're not."
Rather than engage in a pissing contest with her brother, Simone turns to me and actually bats her eyelashes. I can't help but notice how long and dark they are, framing those eyes that seem heated when she looks at me.
"You don't mind, do you, big guy?" she asks me, her accent getting heavier, maybe a little silkier as she tries to flirt with me.
It does nothing for me, frankly, but I'm not getting in the middle of this.
I shrug. "I don't give a fuck, but you're not getting my room."
"You're not getting mine either," Lucas says quickly.
"It's settled then," Simone says with a bright smile as she walks with swaying hips to the couch. She drops down on it, and there go my hopes of watching the news. "I totally don't mind sleeping here."
I make a mental note to pull my bedroom TV out of storage. I hadn't bothered with it, but looks like I won't be enjoying the TV out here.
Lucas merely gives a frustrated sigh of acceptance, his head lowering in defeat. I feel a little sorry for the dude, so I do him a solid and bring the luggage in off the porch.
"Be a sweetie," Simone actually purrs at me with another flutter of her eyelashes and a pursing of her lips, "and put those in Lucas's room so they won't be in the way."
I don't even spare her a glance, but merely drop her bags just inside the door, kicking it shut behind me. With a resigned sigh of my own, I figure I should just head to the gym for a workout. I push past Lucas to the small hallway that leads to the two bedrooms.
"I'm Simone, by the way," his sister calls out to me. "Lucas's little sister."
I don't respond, and I know it's rude, but again...don't care. I step into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. If there was a lock on the door, I'd turn it. Not because I don't feel safe or secure, but because I can tell Simone's a pushy sort of girl, and I wouldn't put it past her to barge in and demand conversation.
The house is small, and even with my door closed, I can hear Lucas say, "What the fuck are you doing, Simone? This is crazy even by your standards."
I can't help but smile at that. Apparently my original estimation that the woman on the porch was crazy holds true.
"He's kind of rude, don't you think?" she responds, talking about me.
This actually makes me snicker. It's not the first time I've been called rude.
I've also been described as closed off.
Introverted.
Asshole.
Weird.
As I rifle through my drawers for a pair of workout shorts, I listen without shame to their conversation, just a little curious why his sister is here.
"Not as rude as you showing up on my porch with luggage saying you're staying here without asking," Lucas retorts, and adds, "and not as rude as you deciding not to go back to school after you agreed it was the best thing for you."
"You don't understand--"
"What I understand," he practically yells at her, "is that you are less than thirty days from graduating with a bachelor's degree from a fucking Ivy League school, and if you go back now, you will not fuck that up. It is absolutely ridiculous for you to think you can step away when you're this close."
Now that's interesting. I can't remember if Lucas ever told me about his sister, but she's apparently a smarty-pants. Ivy League educated and all.
It was the only regret I had about entering the NHL at eighteen. I had wanted to go to college. I'd had plans to major in psychology, but the opportunity to play professional hockey was too good to pass up, and I figured I could always go to college after I retired.
As I locate a pair of shorts, then search for a T-shirt, I can barely hear Simone say, "I'm not that close to graduating."
Whoa...now this is like soap-opera interesting. I snag a shirt and move to my closed door so I can listen. I start to remove my flannel shirt and jeans as I continue to eavesdrop.
Simone continues in a tentative voice. "I actually never enrolled for this semester."
"What the ever-loving fuck?" Lucas barks at her so loud I wince on her behalf. "How is that even possible?"
"I decided last semester I was just done with school," she returns quietly. I pause taking off my clothes to put my ear near the door. "I was reaching for a goal that wasn't mine, but was Dad's."
"It was your goal too," Lucas snaps at her.
"No. It wasn't. Dad is always the one that pushed medical school at me and well...I just never told him differently, that I didn't want to be a doctor."
"So you just decided not to finish the last semester of your undergrad? What have you been doing for the last two and a half months?"
"Working at a coffee shop off campus," she says, but I can tell by the slight defensiveness in her voice coupled with how quickly she answered that's a clear lie. I can spot a lie on a person's face or in their tone of voice faster than a New York minute.
"And the money for your tuition and what Mom and Dad give you for living expenses?" Lucas grits out.
"The tuition's been refunded; check was sent to my apartment address. As for the living expenses...well, I've been using some of the money they put in my account each month to supplement my wages."
"They are going to fucking kill you," Lucas says, and that's when I decide to check out of the conversation.
It was interesting, but it's not my problem. So it looks like we have another roommate for a bit, but it doesn't bother me as long as she stays out of my way. And if she gets too intrusive, I can always move quicker to buy my own home. I signed a three-year deal with the Cold Fury, so I'll definitely be buying, and it will be big enough to move Etta here if I can convince her to leave California.
Speaking of which, I finish getting dressed and grab my cell phone off my dresser. I sit on the bed with my back against the headboard and dial her. I imagine at this time of day, she's probably sitting on her patio reading a book.
"Hey you," she answers, the melody of her sweet voice the best kind of music to my ears.
"What are you doing?" I ask as I stretch my legs out on the bed, knowing that it might be the kiss of death to my motivation to hit the gym.
"I actually just got back in from a late lunch," she says, and I hear the mischief in her voice.
"With who?" I ask, marveling at how my voice is different when I talk to her.
Teasing.
Light.
Funny.
So not the Van Turner that everyone else sees, but then again, Etta has always inspired that in me.
"His name is Mark and he's a veterinarian," she says in an excited rush. "He's really nice, and very handsome, and the only thing that's been a slight turn-off is that his practice specializes in reptiles. I just have this image of going to his house and there are tanks all over the place with lizards and snakes."
I laugh, knowing Etta's extreme fear of said reptiles. Well, small ones actually. She says it's the small ones that give her the wiggins. I once found her standing on top of the kitchen island of my house because a tiny lizard was loose somewhere.
"Maybe before you invest any time in him," I say sagely, "you should ask him about that. Not that I think you're ready to go to his house after just one lunch date."
My aunt spent her entire life devoted to raising me. She would always say that was the way she wanted it, but I sometimes wonder if it was just too hard for a single woman with a kid to find someone she could get serious about.
But since I've moved to the East Coast to join the Cold Fury, she's started doing a little sporadic dating, which has made me happy. But it doesn't really lessen my guilt over all the things she lost in life when she took me on.
"What's going on with you?
" She deftly changes the subject, as she considers me to be more important than herself.
"Having a lazy day," I tell her. "With the play-offs clinched, I don't have much motivation to do anything."
"Slacker," she says affectionately. "And I'll assume that the answer to my repeated question if you're seeing anyone is still the same?"
"Still the same," I tell her.
Unless you want to count the strippers I watch at a local titty bar when I have a night off.
"Van, you're missing out on so much," she chides.
"I could say the same about you," I return softly. "We both had our reasons for hiding away."
"I know," she says on a sigh. "I just want you to be happy. Maybe you should follow my lead and venture forth."
"I am happy," I lie to her. I don't know that I've been truly happy a day in my life.
Well, that's not quite accurate . I was grateful, and it was as close to happy as I could get when Etta came and told me I was going to live with her forever and ever. As an eight-year-old kid who had been traumatized by his own parents, it was the best gift I've ever been given.
"Have you gone to see him?" she asks hesitantly, but with the clear distaste in her voice that only comes out when she talks about him.
"No," I tell her softly. "And you'd know if I did because you'd be the first person I would tell."
"You don't have to," she says with swift finality.
"I know. I'm still considering it."
"You know I'm a good person, Van," she says with a sigh. "But God help my soul, I hope he dies before you get up the courage."
I can't help but chuckle. Etta has been my protector and champion forever. Still going strong at it.
"Listen," I say as I push up from the bed. "If I decide to go, I'll tell you ahead of time. That will give you an opportunity to talk me out of it, okay?"
She gives a small laugh. "Okay. Rotten kid."
Stepping into my closet, I bend over and pick up my gym shoes. "I've got to get going. I've decided to not be a slug and go work out."
"Maybe you'll meet a pretty girl there," she says slyly.
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