Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
He sighs heavily. “I went to the gym with Pacholek and Sabine the other day,” he says out of nowhere, which is news to me but I’m glad to hear it. “We were talking about how things used to be.” He tilts his head and adds, “How much better things are now. They say that’s you and I think they’re right.”
I feel like that’s the biggest compliment he could’ve given me. “Next time, shoot me an invite and I’ll go with you. I’m a damn good spotter and the best cheerleader you’ve ever seen. I even know a couple of Penny’s routines.” I do a few arm movements and shimmy my shoulders in my best approximation of dancing. “Gooo, Mikey!”
“Never call me that again.” But obviously impressed with my stellar skills, he chuckles. “That’s your sister, right? She’s a cheerleader for the Hawks?”
I nod, glad he remembered.
“If I noticed you and Briar eye-fucking, other people probably did too.” His tone is ice hard, warning while at the same time almost . . . protective? If I’m not mistaken, he almost sounds captain-esque. “And not everyone is on board with your whole brotherhood agenda. There’s one particular holdout I’d be concerned about if I were you.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He’s right. “You think Anderson noticed? Think he’ll spill to Coach?”
Kipson snorts a bitter laugh. “I’m sure he noticed that Briar wasn’t fawning over him, as per usual, so he might’ve written that off. But I’d bet he also saw how much attention she was giving you because that woman couldn’t keep her eyes off of you.” He lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I think he’ll have a go at you first. But if he can’t beat you fair and square, he’ll sell you out. No doubt.”
I agree with his assessment of Anderson. The goalie is loudmouthed and brash by nature, and taking me down a notch or two would be justice served in his estimation.
“You want to save him, too, don’t you?” Kipson asks after a moment, and I nod, not denying it. Kipson’s been angry, not stupid, and he’s a perceptive man. “Not everyone can be saved. Hell, not everyone deserves it,” he cautions.
“Seems like I was told the same thing about you, yet here we are, shooting the shit, drinking beer, and sharing secrets.” I take a slow sip, my eyes locked on him. “Next thing you know, we’ll be getting matching tattoos. What do you think? Blizzard polar bears? Could be a team outing,” I joke.
“Sure thing, Lee. You go first,” he quips, a grin slowly developing.
“If I thought for one second you were serious, I’d do it. I bet a bunch of the other guys would too,” I say with certainty.
“Fuck, maybe I would,” he says, laughing. “Ask me again after the season ends.”
“You and me? Tattoo buddies.” I point between us. “It’s gonna happen. I’m manifesting it, as my sister would say.”
Chapter 23
Briar
“I spy, with my little eye, something blue,” Harley says around a mouthful of cotton candy.
“Your face.” I point at the blue ring around his lips.
He shakes his head, grinning. His teeth are blue, too, and I make a mental note to have him double-brush tonight before bed, while simultaneously giving myself credit for the vegetables I got him to eat before his one sweet treat of the night.
“No fair. There must be a million things in here that are blue.” I hold my hands out, gesturing to the entire arena, which is a sea of Blizzard baby blue. We’re not sitting on the center glass tonight, but rather, halfway up the lower bowl, not that Harley has minded a bit. Truth be told, I think he’s slightly more interested in the junk food selection than the action on the ice, though he’s been watching that as closely as he has the wandering snack vendors.
Getting in on the fun, Penny says, “Your mom’s jersey.”
I meet her eyes, seeing the teasing light dancing in their brown depths as she points at my shirt, which is indeed a Dominic Lee jersey that I paired with red pom-pom earrings to match my tennis shoes.
Dominic’s sister is sitting with us tonight as the Blizzard takes on the Hawks, which means Dom is playing against his old team, teammates, and most especially, his “brother from another mother” Griffin. This has the makings of a Shakespearean tragedy, but so far, the game has been pretty evenly matched with a score of 0–0 at the end of the first period. The teams are playing hard, but clean.
Meeting Penny tonight had made my entire belly flip-flop with nerves, but she’d instantly set me at ease by running up and hugging me like we were long-lost sisters. A second after that, she’d become friends with Harley by giving him a signed Griffin Mahoney card, though she’d also required him to raise his right hand and vow to tell Dominic that Honey is the best defenseman in the league, which he’d laughingly done but he’d also held up crossed fingers. Then, as we went to find our seats, she accidentally tumbled up the metal stairs—yes, going up them—and we’d bonded over my handy-dandy, mom-approved Band-Aids, which I’d whipped out of my bag. She’s now sporting one on each knee, neon orange on the left and neon green on the right, neither of which match her hunter-green Hawks jersey or black tennis skirt.