Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Jim’s eyes flash hot, but he doesn’t argue. His shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her to tell her how I feel.”
“Which is?” I press.
“That I want her back,” he mutters.
“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” I point out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m going to suggest there were reasons yours fell apart. You better be prepared to want to fix that shit first.”
Jim throws his thumb over his shoulder where Ella had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. She looks happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”
“Make her happier,” Jett says simply.
I nod. That’s good advice.
“I wouldn’t even know how to go about doing that these days,” Jim says on a sigh. He pushes his plate away. “Either of you want this? My appetite is gone.”
“I’ll take it,” Jett says, pulling the Reuben onto his plate.
“You’re going to get fat,” I remind him.
It gives Jett a moment’s pause, but then he shrugs and lifts the sandwich. It gets a chuckle out of Jim, which I’m glad to see. I don’t know how he’s going to go about fixing his problems, but speaking from a teammate’s point of view, he’s going to need to get his head straightened out with the start of the season, so he better figure out something soon.
CHAPTER 5
Mollie
Kane keeps glancing over the console as we drive. We’re going to The Sneaky Saguaro to meet up with some of his teammates for some food and drinks. We’ve got the radio cranked to some Fitz and the Tantrums, and the sunroof is open to let the warm Arizona night breeze in.
After about the fourth crane of his neck my way, I reach over and turn the volume down. “What?” I demand.
“Are you sure you’re up for going out tonight?” he asks.
No surprise in that question.
Since I told him about Matthew’s attack yesterday, Kane tends to look at me like I’m a piece of fragile glass getting ready to shatter. He didn’t even want to go out tonight with his friends, and I only found out about it by eavesdropping on a phone call a few hours ago when one called to see if he was coming out to join them.
The tone of his voice had been slightly apologetic but firm when he’d said, “No. I think Mollie and I are just going to hang at my place tonight. Have a quiet evening.”
When he hung up the phone, an argument had ensued.
“You had better not be putting your life on hold because of me,” I had accused.
From where he was lying on the couch with Samson at his feet, he leveled a mock glare. “I am doing no such thing.”
I’d been sitting on his loveseat, so I picked up a throw pillow and tossed it at his head. He, of course, deftly caught it.
“I am not something fragile you have to look after 24 seven,” I pointed out.
“Never said you were,” he replied.
“So go out with your friends tonight,” I urged with a hard look. “I’ll be fine hanging here with Samson.”
He pondered that before he suggested, “Would you like to go out with us?”
I brightened at the idea. I love hanging out with Kane, and I would like to meet his teammates. Over the years, I have come to understand and appreciate the men are more than just coworkers. Professional hockey players are, in fact, brothers.
“I would love to go.”
Yet Kane is still fretting over me, as evidenced by the glances he continues to throw my way. I love him for it. As my best friend, I would expect no different. And it’s not even annoying to me that he’s doing it. It’s endearing.
But I want him to stop because I don’t like him being worried.
Reaching out, I lay my hand on his forearm that’s resting on the console. I ignore the surprised jerk at my touch. “Kane… You are my brother from another mother. I want to spend as much time with you as I can, and I would love to meet your cronies. Besides, I have all kinds of embarrassing stories about you that I can tell them.”
Kane pulls his arm out from under my hand, putting it on the steering wheel and leaning his left arm on the windowsill. A subtle move, but it seems he didn’t like my touch. I try not to let it hurt my feelings, and I have to wonder why my touch would bother him. We’ve always had a lightly affectionate friendship. If we were ever out strolling along together, we would often hook elbows. Never hold hands, because that would speak to a level of intimacy that wasn’t there. Although deep down, admittedly, there are times with Kane that I have wondered what we would be like to be together on that level.