“I know I said I didn’t foresee a conflict of interest, but obviously I was wrong there.” As if these particular circumstances could have ever been predicted. “It would be one thing if you hadn’t quit your job, but you did and employing you again wouldn’t be fair to Carter.”
I should have known I’d be perceived as the villain here.
“But …” he continued.
My heart leaped.
“I could enquire at another franchise, assuming you were willing to move to a different city.” The implication was that it would be better all-around if I did. Still, this was kind of him. He didn’t need to do a thing.
“Thanks, Ryder. I would really appreciate that.”
I was used to starting over. If that’s what I had to do, then I could do it again.
Hatch
* * *
So there’s this old tune called “Jesse’s Girl” about a guy who has it bad for his friend’s woman. Carter might not be a friend, but in all other respects, I was living this fucking song.
Since I’d gotten to know Summer better—in all the ways—the next step should have been obvious.
Make her mine.
I wanted nothing more. I wanted to be her knight, to shelter her from the storm, away from the rest of the world. Away from family and friends and the city we both lived in.
Away from Carter.
Only now we were back in the cauldron. I couldn’t make a play for Summer because (a) she had told me she wasn’t interested and (b) even if she was, Carter would be sore about it. Summer was right. No one would believe it hadn’t been planned, that we hadn’t been hooking up before the wedding that never was.
But that didn’t mean it could never happen. I would merely have to bide my time.
Carter was the last person I wanted to see, but my father had invited him to Rebels Youth Hockey Camp. This’ll be good for him, Dad had said. Get his mind off stuff.
I was of the opinion that staying in St. Bart’s and fucking anything that moved would have helped the guy more.
Carter was already sitting in the locker room alone, taping his stick, when I arrived ahead of camp. He looked tanned, rested, and remarkably untroubled.
“Hey, how are things?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry, dumb question.”
He shook his head. “Nah, you’re alright. Your dad roped you into this, too?”
I took a seat on the bench beside him and started untying my sneakers. “I’ve done it for three years now. It’s a lot of fun.”
“Yeah, and good PR for me, which never hurts. I’m looking forward to whipping the brats into shape.”
Jesus, this guy. “The kids are actually great.” I moved on. “How was St. Bart’s?”
“Amazing. We have a house there, so it’s the perfect place to get away from it all. Though there were helicopters trying to get photos. My mom was not pleased. She blames Summer.”
“And you don’t?”
“For helicopter paps? Nah. They’ve been following me around for years. I can’t buy a condom without someone reporting about it.”
I was having a hard time figuring out what Summer ever saw in this guy. Maybe he had presented a different front to her, like a Jekyll and Hyde deal. She saw Dr. Dash and I saw Mr. Carter.
