Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“That could be arranged,” he says, looking thoughtful. “Sure. I like this plan.”
As do I, since most of the emails and voicemails I’ve sent to his teammates have gone unanswered. But he doesn’t have to know that.
“Excellent,” I say, stealing a glance toward Darcy’s desk in the office suite. Chase is standing beside her, phone pressed to his ear. His face is red, like he’s angry at the world. “Have a great game against Chicago, and we’ll catch up when you get back.”
“Now where the heck is our bus?” Tremaine asks, his eyes darting to his watch. “If you’ll excuse me?”
I wave him off and ease toward the exit, still watching the drama in the next room. Chase hangs up Darcy’s phone and scrubs a hand over his face. Then he barks something at Darcy, who’s gone white.
Then her gaze cuts straight to mine.
“All right, guys! Bus is finally here!” somebody yells. “Let’s move!”
The players all perk up. They grab their hand luggage, toss their paper cups into the trash, and head for the door.
But I’m faster. I slide out of the lounge, heading Chase off before he can join the river of hockey players heading toward the escalators.
He sees me coming and scowls, which makes my pulse accelerate, and not in a good way. “I have a plane to catch,” he says with a grunt as I stop in front of him.
“I realize that,” I say quickly. “But you haven’t returned my email.”
His scowl deepens. It’s weird that anyone would look hot scowling, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he does. “Not everyone has time for email.” He lifts his blue eyes to mine again, and I forget to breathe. “What the hell are you doing here, Zoe?”
Chapter 4
Nine and a Half Years Ago
At quarter ’til eight, after a dining hall breakfast, Chase walks back to Filbert Hall, entryway F, to make sure his boys are up.
He lets himself into F101 and grabs his Bluetooth speaker. He brings it out into the hallway and chooses a song on his phone. A moment later, “Uptown Funk” starts echoing off the walls. It may be early, but the beat is good. So he raises his arms overhead and starts to dance.
The door to F102 bangs open and Ethan walks out, hair messy, a towel around his waist. He props the bathroom door open and sings along in the shower. Joon-ho follows Ethan out of the room a minute later, boogying his way into a pair of athletic pants. “Good song, Coach.”
“Thanks, my dude.” He cups his hands to his mouth and calls upstairs. “Let’s go, boys! Do I have to come up there?”
“We’re up!” someone grumbles from the second floor.
Chase gets his gear together, listening to the slap of flip-flops on the hallway’s tiled floor and the clunk of doors carelessly opened and shut. He grabs his toothbrush and heads into the bathroom, where Ethan is dripping wet in a towel, and one of the other campers is bitching at him over the sound of the running shower. “You took forever in here and now I’m going to miss breakfast!”
In response, Chase chooses “Let It Go” for the next song and makes everybody snicker. “See you punks at the rink,” he says. “They don’t have coffee over there, do they?”
Ethan combs his hair in the mirror. “Nope. You gotta sneak it out of the dining hall.”
The shower door pops open, revealing Stephan, who’s as pale as a vampire and probably weighs only ninety pounds. “You’re not supposed to take food out with you, but everybody does it anyway.”
“Good tip. See you in fifteen.” He grabs his skate bag and shoulders it. On his way out of the building, he passes Joon-ho sitting on the steps. The boy pops to his feet. “Are you going over? Everyone else is so slow.”
“Sure. Come on.”
A flash of gratitude passes through the kid’s dark eyes, and he follows Chase down the steps. “Do you have a roommate?”
“Nope. Living it up in a single.”
“Lucky. Ethan snores.”
“Ah. Look on the bright side—snoring is better than stinky farts. My freshman roommate ate lots of dried apricots. I left the windows open even in the winter.”
Joon-ho cracks a smile. “I guess they have to give you a single or you wouldn’t work here.”
Think again. Everything about living on a college campus is worlds better than trying to live at home in Minnesota for the summer. The all-you-can-eat hot breakfasts, for example. It’s worlds better than trying to scare up a meal in his father’s neglected kitchen. Chase has been more or less fending for himself since freshman year of high school.
Then there’s the sturdy lock on the dorm room door, which is worlds better than having his drunk father slam into his room at all hours with complaints and aggressions.