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)
Anderson’s move backfired spectacularly, and now he’s even further out on a limb alone.
“We can sing a different song if you want?” I offer with a shit-eating grin. Loudly, I start singing “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
Several guys instantly chime in.
“Fuck my life,” Anderson spits out. He pushes past me, knocking my shoulder, and luckily for him, not touching Briar or else he’d be a dead man walking as he clumps in his skates into the bathroom.
“He’s gonna have to be a phase two project,” I tell Coach. “One per season and I already did Kipson.” I draw a checkmark in the air. Mission complete.
“Fuck you, Lee,” Kipson growls, but I hear the smile beneath his gruff demeanor. I’m almost certain I see the corners of his lips turning up a little bit too. They’re a full two-thirds less glowering than usual this time. That’s not just mission complete, that for sure deserves an “exceeds expectations” on my performance review. Maybe even a bonus.
“Okay, you guys go play your best and have fun,” Briar tells us, sounding like we’re Harley’s teammates, not pro athletes. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she’s been arrested.”
“What?” I snap. My sister’s in on this?
“What?” she answers, trying and failing to look innocent. “She helped me get in here, which wasn’t exactly easy.” She lowers her voice and leans in, “She’s fast, right? Like could-outrun-a-security guard fast?”
“I’m gonna kill her,” I groan.
“I’ve got her. Just don’t tell Griffin. I don’t want to get on his bad side,” she says, waving her hands like that’s the worst thing she can think of.
I can think of something way worse than my best friend: me.
I press a quick, hard kiss to Briar’s lips and then move to her ear. “Go find my sister. And you are in trouble, young lady.”
She makes a squeaking sound and when I move back, already smirking at her, she’s blushing a bright pink. Fuck, this woman is going to be the death of me.
No, the life of me.
“Blizzard on three,” I shout as I grab my stick and turn back to the guys. “One, two . . .”
“Blizzard!” a chorus yells with me. I think Briar even says it.
The guys file out in front of me, but I hang back, not wanting to leave her with Coach. He said the right things, but I don’t trust him yet. He’s got a lot of making up to do and even more learning to do. But he approaches her slowly, his mouth set in a hard line. “I’m sorry, Briar. For so much.”
“Me too, Dad. I should’ve said something a long time ago,” she says. And miraculously, she opens her arms. He wraps her up, the hug they share one that she’s needed for a long time. For a lifetime. They stand there for a moment, swaying with each other, healing things in each other’s souls.
And finally, it’s time to kick some Hawk ass. I’ve been waiting for this.
Chapter 29
Briar
“To the best team in the league!” Sabine shouts, holding up a beer.
The guys around him lift their drinks in response. “Blizzard!”
This postgame outing is a celebration. Not of a win against the Hawks—the final score was a 4–3 loss—but rather, of the building of a team.
O’Neal’s is awash in a sea of blue, but that’s just the fans. The players are mostly wearing the athletic gear they planned to wear home after the game. No one expected this party. No one expected anything that happened tonight.
Least of all, Dominic. Which is one more reason why I’ve fallen so completely for him. He moves through his days, creating community by showing how much he cares for people. He thinks I add sunshine here, there, and everywhere, but he opens his heart and changes lives. He’s certainly changed mine.
I take a sip of my piña colada, smiling around the straw as I look across the bar. I wish Penny were here to see how this all played out, but she decided it was in her best interest to skip the third period and head back to the hotel before security found her. We stayed in touch via texts, though, so she knows exactly how hard the Blizzard played for those last twenty minutes to make some headway against the Hawks’ lead from the first two periods. Her last text came with a picture showing that she’s safely at the hotel, tucked into a fluffy nest of pillows and blankets, in her pj’s.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Oh, uh . . . no?” I tell Vanessa. “Please, sit down.”
She sits beside me, adjusting her short dress and hooking her stilettos on the barstool’s lower rung. One lift of her hand has the bartender rushing over, and with a smile, she orders a white wine. Less than fifteen seconds later, he’s setting the glass in front of her with a wink.