Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
And I’m a terrible liar.
She’d see right through me, and then I’d be blurting out the truth along with everything else that’s transpired over the past few weeks.
“Sure. Of course.” His gaze never falters as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his expensive looking camel-colored overcoat.
I can’t say he doesn’t look handsome in his suit. My guess is that he came straight to the game from work.
If none of this had happened with Ryder, Sawyer would be exactly my type. He’s handsome with bright green eyes and hair that’s cut a little longer on top and buzzed shorter on the sides. It’s stylish yet professional. Both times we’ve run into each other, he’s been friendly, witty, and funny.
The perfect gentleman.
Plus, he’s older. More mature. And smart. Like me, he prioritized academics over partying and having a good time.
I should be jumping at the chance to get to know Sawyer on a different level. Instead, I can’t stop thinking about Ryder. I keep comparing Sawyer to the hockey player with the shaggy blond hair. There’s no denying how everything in my brain goes eerily silent when his lips settle over mine.
Or when he lays his hands on me.
Ugh.
Ryder McAdams is the last person I should be falling for.
And I know it.
But how do I stop the fall when it already feels like I’ve tumbled over the edge and am in mid-descent?
Is it even possible?
My greatest fear is that it’s not.
Maverick is the next to stroll out with Bridger and Hayes. My brother beelines for our parents and everyone slaps him on the back, congratulating him on having a good game. Even though Maverick doesn’t talk about it, I know there’s a ton of pressure on him to perform at a higher level. Mav wants coaches and the other players to recognize him for his own talent, not because he’s the son of Brody McKinnon.
If there’s anyone on the team who understands what that’s like, it’s Colby. His father, Gray McNichols, played professional hockey and is now a broadcaster for ESPN.
Dad pats Mav on the back before pulling him in for an embrace and whispering something in his ear. As he does, I watch my brother’s muscles loosen as a smile curves his lips.
By now, it seems like most of the players have trickled out of the locker room. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about the blond defenseman.
Thankfully, Dad beats me to the punch and voices the question so I don’t have to.
“Where’s Ryder? Is he still in the locker room?”
Maverick’s gaze flickers to me for a second before settling on Sadie and Cal. “Yeah, Coach wanted to have a few words with him.”
I wince, knowing exactly what that means. Maybe it would be best for everyone involved if I took off with Sawyer. Ryder has already helped tick off a good portion of the list. It’s way more than I thought I’d accomplish on my own. I can finish the rest by myself. If that thought has a burst of sadness sparking within me, I shove it away before it can take root.
Decision made, I clear my throat. “Sawyer?”
He steps closer, angling his face toward mine. “Yeah?”
“I was thinking—” My voice trails off as my phone dings with an incoming message. Thrown off, I slip the small silver device from my jacket pocket before peeking at the screen.
Meet me in the locker room ASAP
With a blink, I reread the message more carefully before throwing a quick glance over my shoulder at the empty hallway that leads to the locker room designated for the men’s hockey team.
“Juliette?” Sawyer’s voice breaks into the whirl of my thoughts.
My attention snaps back to him. “Yeah?”
“What were you about to say?” A hopeful expression lights up his face.
“Oh.” I glance at the screen again. “I, ah, need to use the restroom.”
Disappointment fills his eyes as he gives me a quick nod. “Then we can talk about taking off?”
“Sure.” I force a smile. “Be right back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Guilt swamps me as I swing away and hustle down the corridor. Instead of heading to the bathroom, I fly by the door, speedwalking past it to the locker room. Even though the hallway is empty, my heart jackhammers a steady tattoo against my ribcage.
I pause outside the door and throw a cautious look over my shoulder to make sure no one’s around to see me sneak into the men’s locker room. The heavy metal door closes behind me with a soft rush of air as I slip inside the space.
It’s a surprise to find the place shrouded in darkness and shadows. Humidity from the showers and the pungent scent of sweat hang heavy in the air. Another shiver scampers across my flesh as I take a tentative step inside. It’s tempting to call out his name, but I have no idea if anyone else is around.