Mind Pucked (Chicago Blue Jays #1)

1. Amelia

1

AMELIA

I t’s been two years since my brother’s death. Or at least what we assume was his death. And I still feel horrible about it.

I know there’s no way I could’ve predicte d what was going to happen to him—a terrible car accident that didn’t make much sense.

I was finishing school at a private college, Biltmore, leagues away from him. I was trying to get my dual degree, a Bachelor of Science in childhood development and educational psychology. I managed to get the degree, but left before I got my educational certification for early education or did clinicals to get into the psychology field. I had either option ahead of me, but I rushed home to be there for my parents after the loss of Preston.

But it was almost like I mourned alone. I was sad, and I was angry. And I was looking for answers that my parents thought were better left alone. In fact, six months in, they had Preston declared dead. There was no sign of him, and everyone said that the accident was too bad, and there was too much blood, for him to have actually survived. Even though he made it out of the crash, he would’ve passed out and died somewhere else. Maybe in the woods outside of town, hell if I know. It never made sense to me.

In fact, for the past two years, little has made sense to me.

So, I hightailed it to London to work for friends of the family. They were always flitting around the world with their kids due to their work. Originally from Paris, then moving here to the US, and then to London, they needed someone to go with them and care for their children. With my experience, they thought I would make a great au pair.

My parents had no problem sending me off, saying goodbye. They simply checked in every once in a while. And the isolation was good for me at first. It helped me grieve properly, away from all the rumors and whispers. It helped me really remember my brother the way he was meant to be remembered.

But I couldn’t handle it—the fact that a piece of paper said that Preston was dead.

So when I came back home only a month ago, I dove into the case. I remember seeing car accident photos in the beginning, trying to make sense of it all. The whole thing was a mess. The car caught fire way too easily. The brakes weren’t working. So many odd things that just pointed to foul play in my book.

I know I’m no investigator, no expert, but even as an outsider looking in, it’s still pretty damn obvious that there’s something fishy about this whole thing. And yet I’ve not heard a peep out of the police. Not a peep from my parents to say that they’re on the department’s case to get more information. It’s as if my brother never existed. Nobody seems to care.

So, I’ve taken a deep dive into his life. And my brother above all loves hockey. He always has, always will, even in the grave.

He was an enforcer for the Chicago Blue Jays. A star player. And he had a rival—a rival who he knew long before the Blue Jays. As far as I can tell, Jackson is still alive as a star player while his rival, Preston, is for all intents and purposes dead.

I remember the two of them from when I was younger. It was before I left for college, but I was so reserved I never tried to get to know Jackson at all, even though I thought he was the bee’s knees. He was great at hockey, he was funny, he was smart, and he was hot.

That’s kind of all it takes for a young and inexperienced girl.

I remember how the two of them would talk shit to each other and get in a lot of fights. They were in trouble at school all the time, even college, for fighting on the ice. Until then, I thought what they had was harmless. That they were only shit-talking each other because they were jocks.

After talking to others, and after seeing clips and interviews from games and when they got accepted to the team, I’m not so certain now.

Maybe it’s wrong to speculate, but I have a bad feeling that Jackson has everything to do with this. That it’s Jackson who wanted my brother gone.

The motive gets a little muddy. But you know when you get that feeling in your gut when something is the right answer, but you don’t know how to prove it? That’s what I have. It’s the same feeling I’ve had the entire two years, but I’ve only now started to give voice to it.

If I think real hard, I can come up with a few reasons that Jackson might have wanted Preston dead. Or maybe not even dead, just injured. If my brother couldn’t play hockey, then that would take the rival out of the game. Maybe Jackson would get a raise or more fame or even get on a more high-profile team.

The Chicago Blue Jays were doing great. They were at the top of their game. But that was the first time they became true Stanley Cup contenders. There are plenty of teams that have been multiple times—and even won multiple times—that would give him more of the attention he might have wanted.

But when I look him up, I find that Jackson is still very much a Blue Jay. I don’t know if he’s had other offers and turned them down, or if offers just never came.

There’s one other fact that plagues me. Preston was in the car with someone else—Jackson’s wife, Lyla.

Lyla also passed away that day, but she was found at the scene alive, though she was too injured to tell anyone anything.

Testosterone, I’ve learned since becoming an adult and getting out there, can make men do some weird things. Guys get it in their heads that they need to find any way possible to compete. And sometimes they use women to do that.

Maybe the rivalry went too far. Maybe my brother got caught up in it all, and he was having an affair with Jackson’s wife.

Affairs are the number one motivator for killing someone. You can watch it on all the true crime shows. If there’s cheating in a marriage, it’s pretty much guaranteed that’s the reason somebody ended up six feet under.

So, maybe Jackson knew. Maybe Jackson knew, and the rage was too much. He wanted to get rid of them both and make them pay.

But the fact is, no one has ever looked into this. No one even knows why Preston was in the car with Lyla. And the cops don’t seem interested in pursuing the matter.

Most people tell me to just forget it, to move on. But all of this just makes me even more suspicious.

It’s the pain and possibilities that keep me going. I can’t seem to move on. I’m looking for my brother in people’s faces everywhere I go, wondering if he’s still alive and has just forgotten who he is.

He may have been a shit-talker sometimes. A little hotheaded too. I remember when we were little, he would get so vindictive about things. I might accidentally knock over a toy of his or come into his room when he didn’t want me in there, and I would end up with something broken, stolen, or some horrible prank played on me. The kind a girl shouldn’t have to go through.

But as he grew up, the need for pranks wore off. He ended up becoming my biggest protector. I always felt safe with Preston around. Now, going through life without him is strange. It’s like being in a foreign country and not knowing the language.

So, I’ve been trying to work my way into his old inner circle. I want to know everyone he knew. I want to understand the dynamic and see if any of the rest of them feel the same way I do—that Jackson may have had something to do with it.

Lucky for me, I have money and connections. The kind of money and connections that managed to get me VIP season passes to see the Chicago Blue Jays. And tonight, I’ll be at the third game in a row, sitting next to a woman named Quinn.

Quinn Eastburn is the wife of Dean Eastburn, who’s also a long-time Blue Jays player. They have three kids together. But even more importantly, those kids are friends with Hayden. And Hayden is Jackson’s daughter.

She’s only four, and from what Quinn tells me, she’s been traumatized from losing her mother. She doesn’t talk to many people, and has almost no trust, but she seems like such a sweetheart.

If I wasn’t here for investigative purposes, I would still love doing what I’m doing, which is making a connection with the children in order to get to the adult. Because from what I hear, Quinn has always helped out with taking care of Hayden, even before Lyla’s death.

If I get to know Quinn, and Dean, maybe they’ll have something worthwhile to say. Maybe I can get to the bottom of this.

I take a look at my makeup in the mirror, making sure it’s not too much. I don’t want to look desperate, but I have been trying to appear like a superfan.

Other than the fact that Preston played it, I have to admit that I didn’t know much about hockey until a couple months ago. I started really looking into it when this plan came to me. So, I’ve learned to cheer at the right times in the right ways. I’ve learned how fun it can be to watch them beat the shit out of each other on the ice. And I’ve watched other young women to see how to dress.

Jeans and a jersey. Natural looks. Still with a feminine air. It makes them notice you. It makes you fit in too.

I grab my purse and keys and head out the door of my apartment, being sure to lock it behind me. I climb down three flights of stairs, cursing at everyone for the fact that I just had to end up on the third floor. And I had to pick an apartment without an elevator, mostly because I love the look of it and the fact that it has more square footage than any other one-bedroom apartment in town.

The price I pay for luxury.

I’m a little breathless as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I get to my car—the little blue Honda I’ve had since I went away to college—unlock it, and climb in.

Taylor Swift is playing on the radio, and I turn it up. I sing along off-key, not really giving a shit, as I make my way downtown to the rink for the game.

The stadium won’t be packed—it usually isn’t until later in the season—but the traffic is a little bit slow as I make my way there.

Plenty of time to get in my head about all this and think about turning around multiple times. Sometimes, I do feel guilty about what I’m doing.

It’s not like anyone asked to be entangled with someone like Jackson. I doubt Quinn knows he’s directly harmed someone. But the suspicion must be there. There must be more people who think that Jackson had something to do with Preston’s death.

It’s going to take a lot to convince me otherwise.

I get to the stadium slightly early. Just in time to grab something to drink in the long line before I make my way to my seat. I’m so close to the rink I’m sure I’ll be able to smell blood if any is spilled.

That guilt flares up again as I realize how many people would kill for seats like this. But I took it from them, because I just can’t let the past go.

I’m about to take a seat when I hear a bit of commotion coming down the stairs toward us. I look to my right and I see that Quinn is on her way with all four children in tow.

Lucy, Joseph, Thomas, and Hayden all have different personalities, and are all in a whirlwind as she tries to get them to settle down and follow her to their seats.

I can’t help but smile and let out a soft chuckle. I’m sure it’s pure chaos, but it’s the kind of chaos I thrive on. I’ve only given it a brief thought in the past couple of years because of my age and every damn thing I’m busy with, but I would love to have a house full of kids one day.

They always just make me smile.

I meet them at the end of the aisle and hold out my hands. Two of the kids grab hold and start talking away at me about whatever happened at school that day. I’m only half listening, giving Quinn a soft but empathetic smile. I can tell she’s been sweating because her hair is stuck to her brow. She’s trying to juggle the kids and all the snacks at once.

“Rough day?” I ask her, and she nods as we finally get the kids to the seats.

“You have no idea. Dean’s been talking about having a fourth, and I’m just absolutely against it. I’m considering getting my tubes tied. I absolutely love these kids, but some days, it’s too much.”

I nod. “I can totally understand that.”

Quinn cocks her head to the side. “You look a little young, but do you have any?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No, not yet. Definitely a little young, and a little single.” I laugh at it, but there’s this hole that hits my stomach at the thought. I don’t want to be single, but I’ve been too busy running from my past and then digging too deep into it to worry about relationships. Before that, I was just way too sheltered.

“Oh.”

I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking I wouldn’t understand it at all. So, I have to explain.

“What I mean by that is that I’m actually an education major. And I’ve been an au pair. I even babysat my way through college. So, I have a lot of experience with wrangling children.”

Quinn smiles. “That would explain why you’re so good with them. I love that. I bet you’ll make a good mom one day.”

I smile at her kindness, and all of us sit down and start snacking as the game begins.

Suddenly Quinn turns to me, her mouth open like she just had an epiphany. “You know what, I just thought about something. I know you’re a big fan, and you’re clearly good with kids. Are you looking for a job by any chance?”

“Yeah, I actually am. I just recently got back from college and then a trip to London where I was an au pair. Definitely in the market. Why do you ask?”

My heart is beating fast. This could be the in that I need. Does somebody on the team have a job for me? Does she know of someone who has a daycare or a kid?

“Well, one of our team members, Jackson, he has a little girl. Well, this is actually his little girl.” She points to Hayden. Of course, I’ve known this. But she’s never revealed before who Hayden’s father is, just mentioning that she helps care for her while her dad’s playing.

“Oh, well I wouldn’t mind helping out. Hayden’s been so sweet, after all.” I lean down and pinch her little cheek, and she blushes and giggles.

“Yeah, and you’re so good with her. Honestly, he’s had a really hard time finding a good nanny. I know he’s exhausted. I think I can get you an interview if you’d like?”

At that moment Joseph stomps on Lucy’s foot, and Quinn has to deal with that.

I shake my head and lean down to Hayden. “How would you like that? Me and you hanging out more while Daddy plays hockey?” I tickle her belly. She lets out that cute giggle again and looks down shyly before nodding to say that she would like it.

“I mean, I don’t want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but honestly, an interview would be a lifesaver.”

Quinn smiles, pulling out her phone. “Perfect. I doubt he’ll be up for it after today’s game or anything, but I want to text him and let him know, if that’s okay? That way, you already have an in. Give me your number so I can give it to him to call.”

As the crowd cheers while two of the players get into a fight, I lean over her phone to make sure she’s got the right number and she can hear me. She shoots off the message, and it feels surreal—that there’s a chance I might get to talk with Jackson himself. I might get to pick his brain about Preston.

Will he recognize me? Hopefully not.

I would hate to blow my cover and ruin the whole thing before I even get started.

I enjoy the rest of the game, feeling like everything is finally lining up for me. I’m going to find out what happened to my brother.

This house is gorgeous. It’s not as big as the one I grew up in, but it’s pretty sprawling, and both the front and back yards are huge. A white picket fence wraps around the whole property, and there’s a swing on a tree that shades some of the bedrooms. The front of the house is perfectly landscaped with beautiful hibiscus and some vines creeping up the side.

The siding is custard yellow, and the shutters are all painted white. There are huge colonial-style columns coming up from the deck, and a quaint swing sitting next to the door.

It’s good to know that Hayden has a great place to grow up, but I wonder how empty it feels without Lyla.

Maybe if I never get to the bottom of this, at least I’ll know that Jackson’s facing the punishment of having to raise his daughter in the house he used to share with his beloved wife. How the ghost of her must haunt him.

I take a deep breath and go up to the blue door, knocking on it three times. I hear a happy squeal from inside, a sign that Jackson and Hayden are playing. My stomach seems to roll around across my intestines, like I’m swallowing bowling balls or something. From what I hear, Jackson is a great father. But I can’t let that get to me. I have to stay focused on the goal.

Soon enough, Jackson opens the door. He moves to the side to let me in and sends Hayden over to play with her toys in the playroom just to the right of the entryway. I look up to see a grand chandelier dripping with crystals, and I wonder if the crystals are real or not.

“Hi, I’m Jackson. You must be Amelia?” he asks.

I smile at him, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. He still looks like he’s a decade younger than he actually is. Just like the same timid teenager I knew him to be, fighting with my brother.

Do I look so similar? I don’t think so. I still have the freckles, but my hair has finally grown long. Puberty hit me hard and late. I don’t even carry myself the same.

I hold out my hand to shake. “Yes, I’m Amelia. Quinn told you about me.”

He nods, but he doesn’t smile. “Yes, I’m aware. Quinn says you seemed to be some kind of kid whisperer or something. I received your email that she forwarded to me with your resume.”

He points toward the living area, and I follow him there, sitting on the leather couch across from him as he sits on the loveseat. On the glass dining room table is a printout of that very resume.

He looks at the paper quietly, and I make note of the differences. There are subtle changes in his jawline, and he has stubble now, but other than that, he’s the same guy. Just a little grumpier.

“Well, your qualifications look great. But if you don’t mind, I have a few questions. The thing is, I’m pretty picky about this position. After all, my daughter is my life.”

He leans back in a way that makes him look so sure of himself, and his tone is almost accusatory. Harsh.

I shift my feet uncomfortably, wondering if he’s put two and two together yet. Surely, he must vaguely remember that Preston had a sister.

Maybe not. Maybe he’s so out of touch and uncaring that he doesn’t even notice the last name at the top of the resume.

“Sure, I can answer some questions.”

I put on my game face and ready myself to win this position. It’s the only way I’m ever going to move forward from losing Preston. So, grumpy or not, for today, I need to make Jackson love me.