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)
“Good to know where I stand with you,” he declares, bowing up with his hands fisted at his sides.
We’re standing chest to chest, our eyes locked, and I try to decide if he’s actually going to hit me. I’d put odds at sixty-forty in favor of him at least attempting. But while I have cold strategy on my side, he has desperation, and sometimes that’s more dangerous.
I hear feet shuffling as the guys close ranks around us.
“Come on, man, settle down,” Sabine says, trying to de-escalate the tension.
Anderson’s lip lifts the tiniest bit, triumph in the flare of his eyes. He assumes Sabine is calling me off of him, as in Sabine is on his side. His team against me.
And then Sabine’s hand lands on Anderson’s shoulder. “We’ll get them tomorrow night.”
I watch the realization click in his mind. I see him glance around at the guys, noticing for the first time that they’re all eyes on him. They’re on my side. My team against him.
We have created a brotherhood here. And not for lack of trying, but we’ve done it without him and he’s become the odd man out.
Anderson jerks his shoulder, throwing Sabine’s hand off, as he shoots a death glare at every man that he once called a teammate. But that was before any of them knew what the word meant. It’s not simply signing a contract to play under the same umbrella, or wearing matching jerseys, or taking the ice together. It’s giving a shit about each other, on the ice and off.
“If you want to circle jerk each other, go for it. I’m out of here,” Anderson snipes. With a growl, he snatches a towel from his locker and heads back to the trainer’s room, where hopefully a dip in the cold plunge tub will do him some good.
I look around the room, seeing questions in my brothers’ eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t give my all tonight. I owe you that and I let petty shit affect me. It won’t happen again,” I vow.
“We all have off nights,” Kipson grunts. “Apparently, I’ve been dead weight for over six months. I guess you’re allowed to be half-assed for sixty minutes.”
Uncertain laughter breaks the silence, but slowly, everyone goes back to their postgame routines with chatter about making things up tomorrow. Because we’ve got the Hawks again, and we all want our get back.
Just between us, Kipson says quietly, “Hope you know what the fuck you’re doing, because that was a hell of a lot of kerosene to throw on that bonfire.” He cuts his eyes toward sports med, toward Anderson.
“I’d love to say it’s all part of my master plan, but I’m more of a master-baiter than planner.” I mime casting a line and reeling Anderson back in.
He doesn’t laugh, just raises his brows nearly to his hairline. “Well, I’d say you chummed the waters pretty well. Just look out for sharks.”
“Honey, I’m home,” I singsong as I walk through my front door, dropping my bag to the bench there.
“In here, fucker,” Griffin’s deep voice answers. I don’t even make it fully into the living room before he attacks me in a bear hug. As he slaps me on the back hard enough to knock the breath out of me, I do the same to him. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too.”
Penny’s next, though we hug much more gently. She whispers in my ear, “I love her for you.” I don’t need my sister’s approval, but our family is close and her endorsement of Briar means a lot to me.
Briar stands from the couch and I sweep her into my arms for a kiss. Nothing too passionate since Harley’s lying on the floor, watching highlights from tonight’s game on television, but enough to say hello, hey, and how’re you doing all at once.
Harley holds up his fist and I bump it with a grin.
“There’s food on the counter,” Penny tells me, pointing to my kitchen.
This isn’t my usual postgame routine, but Griffin and Penny being here changes everything. I grab the huge bowl of diced sweet potatoes, steak cubes, and spinach, digging in as I step back to the living room.
Briar and Penny are curled up in blanket nests on opposite ends of the couch, Harley is still locked in on the television, and Griffin is manspreading in an armchair with his head thrown back and eyes closed. He’s probably as exhausted as I am after the game.
I’m struck by how much I like seeing them all here, Briar and Harley especially. It’s not home, not really. But it’s where my Ninja blender is, which is about as homey as I get. With the people I love being here, it definitely feels warmer and cozier, though.
I drop to the couch next to Briar. Well, nearly on top of her, and when she giggles and shifts, I pull her legs into my lap. Once she’s comfortable, I rest my bowl on her thighs to resume refueling.