Hero's Risk Paperback

Chapter 1: Beau
“A real Hollywood star! In our town,” a teenage girl gushes into her cell phone.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I pass through the hockey arena, The Honeycomb, toward the parking lot. The arena is busy today, brimming with adolescents and teenagers for a handful of clinics. Thank God this is the last week.
“She’s from here, you know,” another voice, a middle-aged woman in line at the cupcake stand, Primrose Sweets, says to her friend. “She graduated from Fallsview High.”
“Class of 2013,” the friend confirms.
My stomach sours at the name of my high school. And twists harder at the name of my ex-girlfriend.
Not just ex-girlfriend. The ex-love of my life. The one who got away…and stayed away. Until now.
The September heat hits me full-on as I push through the arena doors. My hockey team, the Tennessee Thunderbolts, have our season opener in two weeks. While the team is fixated on the season, my head is all over the place. Because last weekend, while my little sister Bea showed me the space she’s renting to open her pottery store, she dropped a bomb in my lap.
Celine is coming home, to Knoxville, to film a movie.
Then, the bomb detonated.
Celine is arriving this week.
The news brought a fresh wave of anxiety.
Since my honorable discharge from the Marines over two years ago, I’ve had a rough time readjusting to civilian life. Of moving forward. Sure, I achieved my childhood dream of playing in the NHL, but hockey is the only thing that keeps me sane.
Off the ice, I feel the full weight of my deployments and duty tours. Anxiety wraps around my shoulders like a cloak, pulling tight when my control slips. When my routine is thrown off. When I doubt myself.
I thought I was getting better. When Bea moved home in January and took over Gran’s care, it offered me the opportunity to move into my own space in Downtown Knoxville. Things, like breathing, started feeling easier. I was making progress.
Until now.
With Celine’s impending arrival, it feels like I’m stuck in a straightjacket. My nerves are rattled, my control nonexistent, my insecurities on high alert. The woman who literally and figuratively brought me to my knees is back, living in our hometown, where our paths will undoubtedly cross. Regularly.
I toss my practice bag into the back seat of my truck and slide behind the steering wheel. I flip the ignition, blast the air conditioner, and drop my head to the headrest. Close my eyes. Breathe.
Celine and I saw each other at my gran’s ninetieth birthday party in April. It was during that event that I learned Bea and Celine never lost touch, the same way Celine and I did. It was that celebration where I saw my ex-girl interact with my brothers like it was normal. Her love and concern for them overshadowing the awkwardness that exists between me and her.
Celine Hernandez, with her long, dark hair, her big, bedroom eyes, her luscious lips, is a mega movie star. But that weekend, she was still the bright-eyed beauty who climbed through my bedroom window every night the month after my parents passed. At fourteen, my world was ripped apart when the helicopter they were traveling in went down. Hell-bent on keeping my siblings safe and together as Gran navigated becoming our guardian overnight, Celine was my ride or die.
She taught Bea how to apply makeup. She made cupcakes for Brody’s birthday party. She didn’t flip out when Bodhi got his first neck tattoo. She was the steady, the calm, the rock of my whole fucking world.
Until she moved to LA and never looked back.
Fuck. I open my eyes and slap the steering wheel.
What the hell is she doing here? Why did she agree to this movie? Why does she want to plunge us back into the pain and heartache I’ve spent the past eight years trying to accept?
Pulling out of the arena, I point my truck in the direction of Gran’s house. To cut the noise in my head, I flip on the radio.
“Celine Hernandez is coming back to town!” the host announces.
I turn it off.
Celine is everywhere, much as she was when we were younger. To think, I had to go all the way to Afghanistan to escape her presence and even there, her soulful eyes followed me into restless sleep.
She’s the one that got away. The one I’ll never win back.
There’s too much hurt, too much resentment, on both of our sides to allow for it.
So, what the hell is she playing at?
* * *
“Of course you’ll stay for dinner,” Gran talks over me as I think of an excuse to skip dinner tonight.
“Gran—”
“You need to eat better, Beau. You’re an athlete,” she emphasizes the word, like I somehow forgot that at twenty-eight, I’m living my dream career as an NHL player.
Bea laughs. “Listen to your grandmother, Beau.”
Cole, my teammate and my little sister’s boyfriend, passes me a glass of water. “You may as well give in,” he advises.
I mumble under my breath but move back into the kitchen.
“Bodhi is coming to visit in a few weekends,” Gran says, tossing me a smile. “I’ll expect you that weekend, too.”
I snort. “You say it as if I’m not here all the time.”
“Sometimes when you’re here, you’re not really here,” Gran shoots back.
Bea winces and Cole averts his gaze. My sister and her man relocate to the porch, leaving me with the dainty old lady who could best me at whatever she sets her mind to.
“Gran,” I say gently.
“I know you carry demons, Beau.” She turns, pointing her tongs at me. “But you’ve been back for two years now. It’s time to start embracing civilian life. Real life.”
“I am.” I sound too defensive to be believable. I toss a hand in the air. “I have a job, an apartment, friends.”
“No hobbies,” Gran points out.
“I play—”
“It’s your career,” she cuts me off before I can utter the word hockey. “No girlfriends.”
“I da—”
“Who?” She jumps in again, before “date” can leave my lips.
I roll the tension from my neck, reaching for calmness. Gran’s words struck a nerve. But what does she want me to say? That I’m lonely? That my head still resides overseas half the time? That Celine still infiltrates my dreams?
“I worry about you, Beau.” Her words are soft.
I find Gran’s gaze. The genuine compassion in her slate blue eyes, the same shade as mine, centers me. “I’m okay, Gran.”
Her mouth curves into an almost-smile. “Some days.”
I heave out a sigh. “I’ll stay for dinner.”
This time, she gives me a real smile. “I’d like that very much.”
“Okay.” I move toward the porch so I can catch up with Bea.
“Set an extra place for yourself at the table,” Gran calls after me.
I let out a chuckle. Pulling a plate and utensils from the cabinet, I head to the table, frowning when I count the place settings. I place down the extra items I pulled. “Gran, it’s already set for four.”
“I know,” she says, cryptically, waving her cell phone at me. Blake just sent her the newest iPhone and she loves having the latest technology, even before Bea. “I have to take this, Beau. It’s my doctor.”
I wave her off, wondering who else is coming to dinner.
The screen door to the porch bangs closed and I hear my sister and Cole laughing, their voices hushed, as they move onto the porch and down the steps. They’re probably taking a little walk, wanting to have time to themselves. Knowing they both navigate busy schedules keeps my feet rooted in the dining room. I don’t want to interrupt them.
Years ago, when Celine and I were an us, I wonder if my siblings felt the same way. Did they think they were intruding when they caught us in an embrace? When they interrupted our laughter from an inside joke?
Probably not, considering my siblings were adolescents then. They didn’t have the self-awareness to know what it felt like to be caught up in a woman, in a relationship, so intense, it rivaled gravity.
But having that experience, and losing it, makes Bea’s breathless laughter and Cole’s rumbling chuckle land differently. God, what is wrong with me that my sister’s happiness—happiness she truly deserves—fills me with shadows of grief? With phantom pains of joy I haven’t experienced in years?
Blowing out a deep breath, I pull the small pill bottle from my pocket and toss back a white tablet. The medication kicks in quickly, relieving some of the uncertainty that wars in my mind, easing some of the tension that knots the muscles in my neck.
Since my last deployment in Afghanistan, I’ve been on the anxiety medication. Slowly, my dosage has decreased, and my goal is to be completely off it in another year. But since the Celine Hernandez news landed in my lap like a grenade, I’ve needed the tablets to soften the edge.
The doorbell rings and I frown.
“Beau, can you get that?” Gran hollers.
I blow out another exhale and move toward the front door. Through the screen, I can make out the shape of a woman, her face blocked by the setting sun.
Then, I turn the corner, she comes into view, and my heart straight up stops.
Her smile, like warm honey, rolls over her face. She lifts a hand in greeting.
I yank open the door.
“Hi, Beau,” Celine murmurs.
My eyes narrow, my heart rate ticks up. My fucking anti-anxiety meds feel useless in this moment that I am wholly unprepared for. “What are you doing here?”
Celine’s smile slips. Her eyes dim. “You didn’t know?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “About the movie? Yeah, it’s all anyone can talk about.”
She swallows, takes a second to collect her thoughts. She’s not rash like the new me; Celine doesn’t lose control. “No, I mean, about dinner. Gran invited me.”
My laughter rings out again. Harsher this time.
My ex-everything flinches.
Guilt colors my shortcomings, making me feel worse, yet validated. “Of course she did,” I bite out before I can stop myself.
Is this what Gran meant about dating?
Celine shuffles from one foot to the other, looking more uncomfortable, more out of place, than she ever has on this porch before. “I brought dessert.” She thrusts a box from Annabelle’s bakery, presumably a buttermilk pie, in my direction.
I sigh, knowing how long the wait for one of Annabelle’s pies can be. Hours. It’s a thoughtful gesture and—wait, did Celine send an assistant to collect the pie? When did she get into town? I thought she wasn’t coming for a few more days. Why didn’t Gran tell me? Surely, Bea would have prepared me for this meeting, this dinner.
Celine clears her throat delicately. “Can I come in?”
I blink slowly, trying to eradicate the random thoughts from my mind. This isn’t an ambush, it’s dinner at my gran’s house. I dig deep and find my manners. “Of course.” I step aside and hold the screen door as Celine slips inside.
“Celine!” My sister reappears, rushing up the steps and into the house. She wraps my ex in a hug.
“Oh, Bea! I’m so happy to be home,” Celine shares.
Over their embrace, Cole meets my eyes. Whatever he reads in mine causes a tick to pop in his jaw. But in the next moment, it’s gone as he kisses Celine’s cheek in greeting.
Gran appears, ushering Celine into her home. She peppers her with questions about her film, her flight, her life in LA.
I fall into step behind my family, following them into the dining room as Gran pulls out a chair for Celine. Bea fills her wine glass. Cole steps in to take the pie from my hands.
He lets out a low whistle. “Annabelle’s. She’s not playing.”
“No,” I agree, clearing my throat.
Celine Hernandez isn’t one for games. She’s a straight shooter, aims right for the fucking heart. I learned that the hard way.
Now that she’s back, I can’t forget it.
Just like I can’t forget her.