Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I stand near the glass of the owner’s suite watching the two most important men in my life laugh together.
Julian and Dylan spend the entire game talking. With each passing period, the body language becomes more comfortable, more at ease, like they’ve been in each other’s lives for years. Julian has fully bought in. He’s not there in the distracted, half-listening way adults often talk to teenagers while waiting for the conversation to end. No, Julian engages with Dylan fully, the same engagement he brings to boardrooms and meetings and every other space where he commands attention so naturally.
The game unfolds as background noise to them at times.
Every few minutes Dylan points excitedly toward the ice while discussing some statistic or matchup trend, and Julian meets him there, expanding on the thought, challenging it occasionally, explaining nuances of roster construction or player efficiency metrics. It all has my brother practically glowing.
At one point Dylan explains why he thinks the Vipers’ second line generates stronger offensive pressure late in periods because of their transition speed through the neutral zone, and instead of politely nodding, Julian leans forward and says: “Interesting. Explain that.”
And Dylan does. Confidently. Watching it happen is surreal.
The Vipers end up beating Boston 3–2 in a game dramatic enough to send the crowd into absolute hysteria by the third period. The final buzzer sounds and the arena erupts around us, green towels spinning through the air while fans scream themselves hoarse.
And beside me, Dylan smiles harder than I think I’ve ever seen in my life.
After a slight argument with Julian, who insisted on getting us a car home and me winning, as we’ll enjoy the walk, we leave the suite and filter out with the rest of the crowd, the energy spilling through the arena’s electric. Fans pour into the hallways chanting in unison, or as close to it as a herd of drunk fans can manage.
“LET’S GO VIPERS!”
“LET’S GO VIPERS!”
The sound follows us all the way to the street.
And everywhere I look, people are wearing the scarves. The scarves! To think a gift I made for Julian could so quickly turn into this.
Green and black yarn wrapped around necks, lifted above heads, waving through the crowd exactly the way Julian imagined they would.
I glance over at Dylan as we step outside into the cold Manhattan night and catch the deeply satisfied expression on his face while he watches the fans.
“Tonight was insane,” he says for maybe the fiftieth time. “The analytics room alone—”
“I know.” I laugh.
“No, seriously, Harper, they had real-time shift tracking—”
“I heard you the first twelve times.”
The crowd spills around us onto Seventh Avenue beneath the bright lights of Midtown while chants echo through the street.
Then my phone buzzes in my coat pocket. A text from Julian. Scarves are already sold out. Best merch release we’ve ever had. And text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.
I laugh softly to myself before typing back quickly: Guess I was inadvertently on to something when I knitted you that scarf, huh?
His response comes almost immediately. And what he sends next hits me in the best possible way, so impactful, I stop mid-stride. Dylan is such a great kid. So smart and funny… takes after his big sister. I can’t wait to spend more time with him.
I then look at Dylan, who’s beaming as he checks out his scarf, then surveys the city around him before turning his attention back to me. “Never seen you smile that big, Harper. Must be happy the Vipers won, huh?”
“Something like that,” I say as I slip my phone back in my pocket and practically float home, arm in arm with my little brother.
Chapter 25
Julian
My body was warm, comforting in that way you only get in your own bed. The sheets were cool where they twisted around my legs, and nearby I could hear the rhythm of small swells gently crashing against the hull of the yacht.
I stayed suspended between sleep and waking. Then I turned over in bed.
And there she was… Kylie. Seeing her hit me with the same force it always had. That angelic face. Dark brown hair spilled across the pillow beneath her, tangled from sleep. The early-morning light peeking through the open doors painted her skin gold. Her mouth curved slightly at the right corner, as though happiness still found her even deep in a slumber.
I smiled. She had a way of making that happen.
Her eyelashes fluttered softly before her eyes opened, meeting mine instantly. For a second, she just looked at me, peaceful and impossibly beautiful, before a sleepy smile spread across her face.
“You look so happy,” she murmured.
A small laugh escaped me. “Of course I’m happy. I’m with you.”
“No,” she said.
I frowned slightly. “No?”
Her fingers brushed along my jawline. “You’re not with me, silly.”
Confusion moved through me, disconcerting against the warmth wrapped around us. “What are you talking about?”