Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I show the message to Talia, who nods. “That’s some lipstick on a pig of this suck-tuation.”
That it is.
I hit send and only cry a little at the loss of what would’ve been the sale of the year for me.
Chapter 11
Griffin
“Where the hell were you last night, asshole? Balls deep in some bunny, putting another notch in your bedpost?” It’s more of an accusation than a question, as it’s followed by a round of grunts that make me worry about Dom’s bedroom vocalizations, because he sounds like he’s trying to pass a kidney stone more than simulate sex noises.
I ignore him, keeping my eyes on the blades of my skates, where I’m doing my precheck for any irregularities. It’s a habit I established long ago, and I let the routine pull me in, tuning out everyone and everything around me.
Or I try to, until a cold hand gooses me right at my waist.
“Goddamn it!” I grumble, flinching away and slapping at Dom’s ice-cold hand. He must’ve come straight from the cold plunge tub to fuck with me.
“Damn, who pissed in your Wheaties this morning, Honey?” Dom taunts, his easy grin telegraphing that he has no idea why I bailed on him for our pregame dinner last night. It’s not a given, but it’s regular enough that turning down the invite likely drew suspicion. But I wasn’t sure I could face him without spilling everything that’s happened with Penny.
Not that anything has happened. Other than the stolen ring, of course.
I can’t avoid him forever, though, and this morning’s skate is the perfect example of that. Game-day preps are a mixed bag of sorts. When we’re playing at home, most guys will hit the ice at some point to warm their muscles and get a light sweat on, do a check in with sports med if needed, then head home to nap, chill, and eat before going back to the arena for the game. On the road, it’s pretty similar, although the morning skates are always a team event since we have to coordinate with the home team’s ice time.
Today had no come-when-you-want skate option. Coach deemed it a mandatory morning skate for the entire team, which only shows how important tonight’s game is.
“Probably your mom,” Brody suggests unhelpfully. In sync, Dom and I turn evil glares his way. Nobody talks about Momma Lee like that, especially Brody. She’s off-limits for “your mom” shit-talking, and everyone knows it because you’ll get not only one but two pissed-off assholes coming after you in her defense.
“You wish my mom would piss in your Wheaties, bro-zo,” Dom throws back at him, irritated but not ripping Brody’s head off just yet. “Too bad she wouldn’t piss on you even if you were on fire. She’d rip open some marshmallows and pass out graham crackers because you’d finally be useful for something.”
A chorus of “oooh”s rings out before turning into good-natured chuckles.
With a grunt of forced laughter, I resume checking my skates, hoping to dismiss both Brody and Dom. No luck there, though. Dom sits down on the bench beside me, lowering his voice to keep the conversation between us. “You good, man? What’s up?”
Tapping my temple, I tell him, “All good. Just getting my head right for tonight.”
That’s not true at all.
What I’m thinking about is whether I should say something to Dom before he discovers that I was out with Penny yesterday. Not out, like a date, but out like going all over town, eating at a food truck, taking her home, and dropping her off at her door.
Like a fucking date, you asshole.
It sounds bad. I know it does, but it so obviously wasn’t a date. It was a search and recovery mission, and an unsuccessful one at that. But if someone else tells Dom before I do, there will be no coming back from that. He’ll see it as a complete betrayal, which it is.
I should tell him.
But I don’t.
Telling him would mean sharing one truth—that Penny and I hung out without him playing buffer—but hiding a much deeper, darker, uglier one—that I was this close to kissing her at her door. The only thing that stopped me was my preference for life topside of the ground, because Dom would destroy me, or anyone who touches his baby sister, and currently I’m the only one who knows Penny’s in danger.
Which I’m going to figure out, and fix, without anyone being the wiser. I just don’t know how . . . yet. Shit, I haven’t even told Penny, which I really should at this point. Not telling her is more dangerous than anything else. And yet . . . I can’t.
“We’ve got it in the bag. You know that,” Dom scoffs.
Completely lost in thoughts of yesterday, it takes me a moment to remember what he’s even talking about.