“You know, some people are impressed with me.”
“And yet you hiredmeto be in your face every single day. Huh. Wonder what that means?” She set down his drink and pulled a letter out of her back pocket. “This is the fourth one you’ve gotten. Now that you have some free time, maybe you can deal with it.”
He glanced at the envelope from a law firm in Calamity, Wyoming. This past summer, his old hockey coach had passed away, bequeathing him and his three high school friends a hockey team, but the estate was handled by a different practice. So what could it be? He and his dad owned homes there, but neither was involved in litigation.
Tearing it open, he scanned the letter.
“What’s it say?” Birdie asked.
“They need me to call them.” He tossed it aside. “Can you please hand me my phone?”
“Wait, is this for real? You’re actually going to do something that isn’t hockey related?” She grabbed it from the kitchen counter and handed it over.
As he dialed, he considered the possibilities. His land backed up to Grand Teton National Park, so he didn’t have neighbors who’d sue him over property lines, and he wasn’t home enough for anyone to file a noise dispute. He really had no clue.
“Whitten Rose and Vasquez Attorneys,” the receptionist answered. “How may I direct your call?”
“Hey, this is Cole Montgomery. I got a letter from”—he read the signature line—"Ashley Stephenson, asking me to call.”
“One moment, please.”
“All right, I’m out of here.” His assistant grabbed her backpack. “Need anything before I leave?”
“Nah. I’m good. Hey, how’re you getting there?” In order to graduate, she needed to complete her requisite student teaching hours. But with her car in the shop, it would be difficult to interview at the schools.
She looked at him like he was an airhead. “Uh, public transportation? This is Boston.”
“Take my car.” He gave a chin nod to the bowl where he kept his keys and spare change.
“Are you out of your mind?”
He patted the ice pack. “I’m not going anywhere for a few days.”
“How are you even offering me something like that when I totaled your car the first time you loaned it to me?”
“You were nineteen and upset over your ex.”
She shook her head. “I’m a terrible driver, and that’s why my car’s in the shop.”
“Hello?” A woman came on the line.
He held up his finger to his assistant. “This is Cole Montgomery. I got a—”
“Yes, Cole. Thank you for getting back to me.”
His assistant waved to him before heading out the door.
“Sure. What can I help you with?” A lawyer only reached out for a good reason. If it wasn’t about the Renegades hockey team, then what else could it be? “Is something wrong?”
“I’m sorry to inform you that Darren Leeson passed away.”
He jerked upright so quickly he knocked the ice pack off his knee. “Darren?” Immediately, an image dropped into his mind. A red-haired, freckle-faced skater kid with an easy laugh and lazy eyes. Cole’s closest friends were on his hockey team, but since they’d always had family obligations, girlfriends, and jobs, he’d wound up spending a lot of time with Darren, another loner. “What happened?”
“He and his wife were on their way back from Las Vegas. An eighteen-wheeler spun out on black ice on I-80 in Echo Canyon and…” She sighed. “He and Lindsay didn’t make it.”
“Jesus.” He squeezed his eyes shut, and there it was again, an image of that dopey grin.
He just couldn’t believe he was gone.