Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“I seriously wish we knew what the deal was there,” Hollis grumbles.
“Don’t we all,” I reply.
He pulls into his parking spot at the arena, and his phone pings. It’s my daughter. I can tell by the ringtone. His eyebrow pops as he reads the message.
“Everything okay with Peggy?” For a while she wanted me to call her by her middle name, Aurora, which is how Hollis often addresses her. But since they started dating, she’s backed off. I’m the only one who calls her Peggy now, and she doesn’t seem to mind the way she once did.
“Yeah. The girls are going to the Watering Hole after work.”
“Again?”
“Dred can make it this time, I guess.” He types a quick response as we exit the car. “Hopefully drinks with the girls doesn’t turn into a girls-only night. Especially since we’re about to start traveling.”
I rub my bottom lip as we enter the arena. “Peggy’s sublet is up in November.”
“I know. I’m ready for her to move in full-time now,” he says.
“One step at a time, right?” I bite back all the fatherly responses. Like, she’s only twenty-one. She’s still young and has a lot of growing to do. Hollis knows this, and he loves the hell out of my daughter. Also, by the time I was her age, I had a three-year-old.
It doesn’t make it any easier to walk this line, though. Sometimes it feels a lot like I’ve lost my little girl and my best friend. Hollis and I are still close, but he’s my daughter’s boyfriend now, and soon they’ll be officially living together. My life looked completely different a year ago: strong career, raising my daughter, working with my best friend. Now, I’m trying not to feel unmoored.
“Hey, my dudes. How’s it going?” Dallas Bright calls as he and Ashish Palaniappa fall into step with us.
“Not bad. How about you two?” Hollis asks.
“Ready to hit the ice,” Ash says.
“Wills is stressed.” Dallas is the only one who calls his fiancée, Hemi, this.
“Please tell me Flip isn’t causing her PR problems already,” I grouse.
Dallas shakes his head. “Nah, he’s been on the straight and narrow. Mostly she slept like crap. Lots of changes inside the organization this season—hopefully most of them for the better, but I think we’re all a little rattled, you know?”
“Yeah. I absolutely do.” In more ways than they realize.
There’s a tense edge in the locker room as we enter. My mental shift is immediate. Sure, we’re all still friends, but as soon as we cross the threshold, I’m in game mode.
Grace’s cubby is on the opposite side of the room from Madden’s. At least management got that right.
Madden and Stiles sit beside each other on the bench, already suited up except for their jerseys. They talk quietly as they lace their skates.
“Quite the somber mood this morning,” Hendrix mutters.
I grunt my agreement, but don’t respond otherwise. When I’m suiting up, everyone knows to give me space to do my thing. I check over my equipment, set my green apple for after practice in the top right corner of my cubby, and begin to prepare, removing my clothes one item at a time, folding them and putting them away before I suit up.
“Bro, cover that shit,” Stiles says.
“The fuck, man?” Hendrix gripes.
“Your back, Hollis.” Stiles gives him a meaningful look.
“What about it?” Hendrix runs his hand over his shoulder, drawing attention to the crescent-shaped marks dotting his skin.
“For fuck’s sake.” Like I need this today.
Stiles sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t you look in the mirror before you leave the house?”
“Yeah, but I’m not looking at my back.”
“The girls need to go for manis apparently.” Bright is probably trying to diffuse the tension.
“Fuck all of you guys,” I snap. I don’t want to be thinking about the marks my daughter left on his back—ever.
Everyone startles. I’m usually silent until we take the ice.
“At least you’re taking care of your girl,” Madden says un-fucking-helpfully. I swear, if he tries to high five anyone about my daughter’s orgasms, I’m going to lay him out.
“Pretty sure you were singing a different tune when your bestie and your sister started up,” I fire back and raise my hands. “This whole conversation ends now. Rookies and newbies, word to the wise, dating inside this family is fucking complicated, so avoid it, or you get to deal with this.” I motion to my teammates, who are also my closest friends.
“He’s not wrong,” Madden agrees somberly.
Vander Zee pokes his head into the locker room, expression intense. “All right, guys, enough chatter. Let’s hit the ice.”
I finish suiting up and follow my teammates out of the locker room.
But my shit mood takes a further nosedive when we reach the rink.
Lexi—Coach Forrester—is already out there, wearing her coach’s jacket and looking every bit the part. Don’t get me started on the way her track pants highlight her curves. Which I should not be admiring.