No onehad ever asked him such a question. No reporter, friend, or woman. His dates usually asked him…well, about his life as a professional hockey player. Or if he could take off his shirt. “Ask as much as you want,” he said, dismissing it. “They’re just not easy questions.”
“Nobody wants to hear the answers toeasyquestions,” she murmured, clicking her tongue.
He let out a playful gasp, took another sip of whiskey, and then said, “I think it’s both. Calmness has become part of my identity, but it’s still exhausting. The thing is, I was so angry as a child and a teenager that, at some point, I thought…enough was enough. Either I die of a heart attack at thirty or I let go of the anger.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully but nodded. “How old are you?”
“Thirty.”
“Seems to have worked.”
“Let’s wait till I’m thirty-one.”
She smiled broadly…and her smile hit him like a punch in the stomach. It was so damn honest. Natural. Andwarm. How could someone be so terribly generous and free with their smile?
“I get angry a lot,” she murmured. “But mostly at myself or the world. Not at others.”
“Why do you get angry at yourself?”
“Because it’s easy for me to accept mistakes — as long as I don’t make them myself. I should be better at it. I’ve had a lot of practice.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh.
“So, why are you angry at the world?”
“Because it should be a better place than it is.” She said the words so matter-of-factly that no one would have dared to contradict her. “Okay, now I know what you’re good at — holding yourself together. So, what are you bad at?”
He didn’t even have to think about it for two seconds. “Oh, I’m a terrible cook.”
“Define terrible.”
“I’ve set several toasters on fire and making tea is a challenge for me. Although, I do use my oven regularly — to store bags of chips.”
Penny threw her head back and laughed. Loudly. So loudly that a few people looked at her, but she didn’t seem to care. “Oh man.”
“Yep. What are you bad at?”
“Keeping my mouth shut?” she offered.
He shook his head. “That’s not a bad thing.”
“Oh, I know a lot of people who would disagree with you, but okay. Um, I’m — oh, I know.” He had never seen a person so excited about coming up with something they were horrible at. “I’m bad at finishing things. I don’t finish books left and right. I can play about five different instruments, but only slightly. I don’t think things through properly and therefore often say the wrong thing. And I’m terrible at lying. If I say anything that even takes a momentary detour from the path of truth, I start coughing like I’m choking on the words. Then, my face reddens, and my mouth gets dry, so I keep licking my lips. Meanwhile, people are calling an ambulance because there’s obviously something wrong with me.”
As if on cue, his gaze landed on her lips. It was her fault; she’d used the word. And, man, he had to admit, he’d like to see her lie, just to watch the tip of her tongue run across her upper lip.
Thank God Penny’s cell phone rang at that moment, snapping Jack out of his trance. She pulled the phone out ofher linen pants pocket, squinted at it, and sighed. Jack had automatically glanced at the screen:Brolit up on it.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” she mumbled, getting up from the bar stool and walking a few steps away, probably because it was family, and she didn’t want to break their agreement.
Jack should have sipped his whiskey, sat back, and ignored the phone call. But, then again, according to all the guidance counselors at his high school, he should have gotten a real job and not chased the dream of becoming a professional hockey player. So…
“…you’re not serious! Of course I’m at the airport. Where else would I be? You all didn’t give me a choice, did you? So, yes, I’m on my way!... It was okay. Very long. Very high up… Yes, I know all flights are high, but that doesn’t make it any less scary!” She rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her hair, and then smiled. “You did? But from tomorrow on, you can no longer use the key. Thanks, though. Man, if all those people knew that you’re not a steely-hearted businessman, but actually a teddy bear…” She laughed. “Yeah, yeah. That’s my secret…”
Jack frowned. If he’d read correctly, she was talking to her brother. And from the sound of it, they were close. A small green knot automatically settled in Jack’s chest. She seemed to have that easy, carefree relationship with her brother that Anna and Dax also had, the kind he had messed up and now had to rebuild. True, he was no longer at the beginning of that journey, but he was still a long way from being just their brother, instead of their enemy. And he hated it, as much as he hated that his first Christmas with them in twelve years had been taken away from him.
“Can we talk about this in the morning?” Penny continued, yawning. “I’m exhausted. I need sleep and coffee, and then I can go to war with you.” She nodded, said goodbye, and turned back to him.
He quickly refocused on the whiskey in his hands. He was itching to ask what kind of war she was fighting and who had given her no choice about what. But any of those questions would break their agreement, so he let it go. Instead, he glanced up at her and asked with a smile, “So, dog or cat?”
It was strange how many topics you could talk about that had absolutely nothing to do with hockey. Until an hour ago, Jack would have claimed that it would be difficult for him to talk to a complete stranger without talking about hockey for five minutes. But apparently, that only applied to complete strangers who were allowed to ask about his work or family.
