23. Hank

23

HANK

M y heart hurt like hell. And the only cure I could think of was work.

I hired additional help in the stable so I could spend extra time at the mill. I arrived early every morning and suited up for jobs I hadn't personally done in years. I drove the forklift, worked the kiln, and unloaded shipments. I met with the builder, the loggers, the mechanics. I set meetings to talk to leaders in the Four Forest area in the hopes of generating interest and in opening discussions about fundraising.

I didn't linger on any specific chore, I didn't waste time with idle chatter, and I avoided Elmwood like the plague. I was a fucking chicken. I was raw and miserable, and one "Where've you been?" away from a breakdown.

And yes, I was afraid of running into Denny. I'd hurt him, and I hated myself for it. I vacillated between thinking I should never have uttered those three stupid words and being glad I'd been honest. I did love him, and it sucked to know there was no way we could make it work.

Our worlds were too different. Denny would be off to preseason training soon and the media would be hounding him, analyzing his game and debating whether he was talented enough to warrant an astronomical pay raise. No doubt it would be easier to keep up the charade that he and MK were still together than let them know he was single and bisexual. But he had to navigate that on his own.

And I had a job to do. Celebrity endorsement was a nice idea but what the mill really needed was leadership, so I rolled up my sleeves and got to it.

"Oh, good, you're here. Your dad is on line one." Emily pointed at the blinking red light on her console and shoved a plate of cookies at me. "I made those last night. Chocolate chip, peanut butter. They're delicious. Don't leave them at your desk, or I'll be offended."

My assistant loved me now. Go figure.

"Uh…thank you." I gave what I hoped passed for a smile, then took the cookies into my office and picked up my phone. "Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?"

"Don't fuss about me. I'm calling to check on you."

"Everything is going well at the mill and?—"

"I meant you , not the mill," he intercepted.

"I'm fine."

" Hmm . Are you sure? I know you didn't count on dealing with a protest…in a forest in Vermont of all places."

I perched on the edge of the desk and gave him a mini report of recent goings on, adding, "I probably should have started out by meeting with town council members in January, but I doubt they'd have been receptive then either. I'll be in Denver in a few days. I'll talk to Carl and your team there to discuss a plan for Wood Hollow."

"What about the hockey player? You're friends, right? Maybe ask him about the promo again while he's still in town."

"He offered to do it," I said, biting the inside of my cheek.

"Hey! That's fantastic! Geez, you're a damn natural, kid," he gushed. "Get that set up and come home. Let Cooper handle the meetings. Once the promo is out, we're golden. We'll hire a CEO and a?—"

"I'm not going anywhere, Dad."

"What are you talking about? You wanted six months—it's been six months, and you've done what you set out to do. Rome wasn't built in a day. Wood Hollow will take some time getting up to speed, but you've done your share. Bring the horses home, buy a couple more, and call Cassy. She'll be more than happy to help you get your practice started. You've earned it, Hank."

I paced to the window and stared out at the slice of forest behind the warehouse at the enormous flatbed truck, the row of forklifts, and neatly stacked timber. Sure, there was more to do, but someone else could take over and damn…that was tempting.

I opened my mouth to tell him so, but something else came out. "They need me, and I think I can make a difference."

Silence.

"I thought you hated it there," he huffed skeptically.

"Well…I don't."

"What about the therapy practice you wanted?"

"I think this is more important now."

My father hummed thoughtfully. "Christ, Hank, I'm proud of you."

Whoa . That stopped me. I hadn't heard those words in…ever.

"I…thanks, Dad. But I haven't done anything yet. It's still the same here."

"But you will. You're going to see this through, aren't you?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I am."

"Good. Your mom would be proud too. Love you, son. Hey, did I tell you about…"

I caught every other word for the duration of the call. Honestly, I was still reeling from his praise.

I knew my dad loved me, but it was safe to say I frustrated him. He wanted at least one of his kids to be like him, and I'd tried, but man, those were hard shoes to fill. I never seemed to get it right. I used to think being gay was a hurdle he hadn't really gotten over, but it wasn't that. He'd known early on what he wanted from life and I was just figuring it out now.

In Elmwood, of all places. And Wood Hollow.

Between mornings and evenings at the stable and long hours at the mill, I'd neglected some basic necessities…like purchasing coffee. And I hadn't realized I was out till it was too late to put in an order for delivery. If I wanted caffeine, I was going to have to venture into town and buy it from Rise and Grind. I supposed I could go without, but I wasn't a masochist. And if I went early enough, I wouldn't run into anyone I knew who might ask probing questions, like…

"Where have you been?" JC motioned for me to join him and Riley in line, turning to the guy I'd cut in front of with a quick, "Sorry, but this is important. You know my friend, Hank Cunningham, oui ?"

"I do. I work for him." Niall offered his hand and shook mine with gusto. "I haven't had a chance to say anything yet, but…I wanted to thank you for your speech earlier in the week. It was good, ya know? I think we all needed to hear that you're committed to the town."

I nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

Niall released my hand and patted my shoulder. "Glad to hear it. Let me buy you a cup of coffee."

"No, no, we are buying his coffee. You will try again tomorrow," JC insisted, pulling me along with him in line.

Riley chuckled. "Go along with it. Jean-Claude doesn't take no for an answer."

"My husband is a smart man. So… ?a vas ? Why are you hiding from us? You haven't been to zee diner in a week. Did you eat something bad? If so, it was not in my kitchen. Check the dates on your condiments, eh?"

"I'm fine, but thanks for?—"

"No, you're too skinny." JC barreled to the front of the line and greeted Ivan. "We will have three lattes and three croissants, s'il te pla?t. No, make it four. Two for the cowboy without the hat. He needs food."

"You got it," Ivan enthused. "You're going to freak out. I've been practicing new art and I've got something fun for you."

"That is frightening, but… merci ."

I joined Riley and JC at the side counter, clutching a bag of croissants and making small talk about the weather, the new menu at the diner, the movie star sighting in Pinecrest, and the raccoon who upended Mr. Jenkins's trash and was seen gnawing on a VHS jazzercise video.

"Jazzercise? That's awesome," I commented with a half laugh.

"The best part was that a fourteen-year-old camper found the tape and had no idea what it was," Riley reported. "Listening to Vinnie and Ronnie trying to explain old technology to a bunch of teenagers was freaking hysterical. We all appreciated the moment of levity. The big scrimmage is tonight and tensions are high. Well…not really, but we pump it up all week, so this is serious stuff."

"Former pros and current pros compete," JC added. "It will be a bloodbath."

"Hey!" Riley huffed.

"In a good way."

" Ta-da ! A cactus!" Ivan set our lattes on the counter with a flourish. "What do you think?"

JC rubbed his beard, lifting one eyebrow. "It's a kinky cactus. Like a penis with thorns."

Ivan threw his hands in the air in mock surrender. "You're the worst. Have a good day, boys."

I chuckled as I followed them outside, feeling lighter than I had all week. "Thanks again for the latte and the croissants. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. See you at the scrimmage tonight," Riley said, hooking his arm in JC's.

I was definitely not going to the scrimmage, but I lifted the to-go cup as I turned—and immediately ran into the man I'd been thinking about nonstop for days.

"Sorry about that. I—Denny."

And this, right here, was what I'd hoped to avoid. My pulse raced and my hands went clammy as I drank in the sight of him like a man dying of thirst.

He looked sexy as always in his black joggers, snug tee, and a Condors ball cap, his longish hair spilling out the sides. The desire to touch him was so strong—a brush of fingers or elbows…something, anything.

"Hey." He cleared his throat and inclined his head toward the bakery. "I just dropped Grams off."

"Coffee." I pointed at my cup awkwardly.

"My next stop."

"Good call." I stepped around him. "I should?—"

"Come to the scrimmage," he blurted. "I heard Riley and he's right…you should come."

I swallowed hard. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's a great idea. Everyone will be there and…you're kind of a hero in town."

"They're just impressed that I know how to operate a forklift," I snarked.

"I'm impressed too." Denny's lips curled on one side.

"Yeah, well…"

"Come by," he whispered. "One last time…please."

The urgency in his tone was my undoing. Or maybe I was charmed by the contrast of his boyish shrug and masculine jocklike aura. It wasn't smart and I knew it would hurt, but I couldn't say no.

"Okay."