Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“We haven’t had dinner yet. Aunt Kiera couldn’t get off the couch.”
“Oh,” I reply and have a mini panic attack. What do little boys eat?
“She was going to make us macaroni and cheese,” Jake says.
Relief surges through me. “Yes, I can totally make that. How about you guys get into your pj’s and I’ll go make your dinner? My friend Daniel is bringing some stuff over, and it’s quite possible one of those things might be ice cream.”
Three sets of blue eyes light up. “We love ice cream,” one of the twins says.
I have no clue which one, so I ask, “Are you Colby or Tanner?”
“Colby,” he says.
“No, he’s not.” Jake gives his brother a scolding look. “That’s Tanner, and he’s trying to trick you.”
I walk up to the bunk beds, a faux tough expression but with my lips curled so they know I’m amused. I still have to tip my head back to look at them, letting my eyes move between the twins. I study them intently, knowing that no matter how identical they are, there will be something different.
I spot it right away and point to Tanner’s forehead. “Your cowlick turns left. Your brother’s turns right.”
Tanner grins, revealing a missing front tooth. “That’s how my dad tells us apart.”
“Bet you still try to trick him, though, don’t you?”
Tanner nods, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Smiling, I look to Jake. “Can you handle helping your brothers?”
“Yes,” he says, rolling over and scrambling down the ladder. “Will I get extra ice cream?”
“Quite the little negotiator,” I muse as he jumps to the floor and comes toe to toe with me. “I like it. I’ll consider it if you help me get them ready for bed after, including a good tooth brushing.”
“Deal,” he says, offering his hand.
Laughing, we shake on it, and then I leave him to his job. I realize that I can absolutely delegate when I need to.
CHAPTER 23
Drake
I’m exhausted. The extended road trip was a drain, but not in a bad way. There’s the physical toll of playing hockey, traveling, and sleeping in hotels, but it’s balanced by the competition that fuels us and the high of winning. Sometimes the high of winning can be just as depleting once you come down.
This week we flew from Pittsburgh to Miami where we lost to the Spartans. From there we went to Atlanta where we beat the Sting last night, and I had another shutout. Rather than stay overnight, we hopped the bus to the airport and boarded our plane back to Pittsburgh. The greatest thing about the Titans owning a team plane is that we were out of there just after midnight, no hassles or delays.
It’s almost two in the morning, and I’m looking forward to passing out for a few hours before the boys wake me up. They’re fond of crashing into my room and using me as a trampoline.
Just thinking about it makes me smile, interrupted by a deep yawn as I walk up to the front door.
Hitching my duffel on my shoulder, I slip the key into the lock and let myself in quietly. As I shut the door behind me, a sound catches my attention from the kitchen.
I drop my bag and move through the living room, able to see thanks to the soft glow of a small table lamp. The kitchen is dark, but as I round the corner, moonlight filters in through the window over the sink. I see Kiera at the sink, rinsing a cup.
Reaching out, I flip on the light. “Boo.”
“Jesus,” Kiera gasps as she spins around, hand clutched to her heart, except… it’s not Kiera.
It’s Brienne.
A million things hit me at once, the first of which is utter shock at seeing the woman I’ve been having copious amounts of down-low and dirty sex with.
In my home.
Uninvited.
Where is Kiera? Did she let Brienne in to wait for me?
Why has Brienne suddenly taken it upon herself to cross the lines we drew? I’ve never invited her here, and it’s telling that there’s not a single molecule inside me that’s happy to see her in my personal space.
Maybe I’m just exhausted and stupefied, and I’m sure I’ll regret my words later, but I growl, “What are you doing in my home?”
Not house, but home. A private, personal place.
She had a slight smile when we originally locked eyes, and if I read it right, it was happiness to see me. It’s gone now, though, her expression shuttered. What little that bleeds through is guarded.
“Where are the boys? Kiera?” I demand, knowing instinctively it’s stupid and unnecessary to ask.
“Sleeping,” she grits out.
Yeah… those were bad questions.
I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose, and sigh. I need to start over and not come off as a jackass, but I’m spinning a bit out of control.