Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
After all, Nora can’t help it that her brother is a steaming pile of hot human garbage.
But he is hot. You can’t deny that, the inner voice says as I aggressively wipe down the dining table and do my best to ignore the fact that my last lingering party guests—my brother Wesley, my little sister, Binx, and my cousin, Jacob—are glued to the hockey game.
It’s what everyone else in Bad Dog is probably watching right now, too, since our “hometown hero” Aaron Boudreaux is finally playing in the NHL.
No one’s talking about the fact that it took ten years for him to make the jump from the minors to the big leagues after college, or that he’s one of the oldest rookies on record. It’s all sunshine and rainbows and “wow, isn’t he the greatest! What a star!”
Life is so easy when you’re a handsome man.
It makes me want to stab Aaron in his gorgeous eyeball.
“Spearing!” Binx cries out in her husky voice, the one that makes it sound like she smokes a pack a day, though she’s never touched a cigarette in her life. “What the hell, ref? Open your fucking eyes. Oh shit, sorry.” She turns to me, wincing. “I did it again. I’m the worst auntie ever.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “I put Chase down twenty minutes ago. He was worn out from the party.”
Her shoulders sag. “Oh good. It isn’t going to be safe around here for little ears.”
“Because the refs are clearly on Wisconsin’s side,” Wesley agrees, even my notoriously sunny, happy brother looking irritated. “This is some dirty hockey.”
“Our boys are getting beat to shit,” Jacob mutters, wincing.
“Spearing!” Binx shouts a second time, flapping an exasperated arm at the screen. “Again! What is wrong with these people?”
Spearing…
I have no idea what that is, but I’m pretty sure Aaron and I did it in November.
We banged on most surfaces in this room, including the table I’m currently scrubbing. And it was fucking incredible, and I do my best not to think about it.
Even if Aaron weren’t the boy who bullied me in high school and an arrogant alpha man-beast who thinks he’s better than everyone else, he doesn’t live in Bad Dog. He was in Iowa in the minors for years. Now, he’s a Minnesota Midge, but they’re based in Minneapolis and NHL teams travel all the time. A relationship with a man like that would be impossible and that’s what I want, a relationship.
I want someone to share the good times and the bad times and the parenting duties. I want someone who wants more kids, before I get too old to have as many as I’d like, and who loves the idea of a big happy family as much as I do. I don’t know what I’d do without all my brothers and sisters. I want Chase to have that, too, a whole pack of siblings who will have his back for the rest of his life.
“Holy shit,” Binx breathes, sounding more shocked than angry. “That’s Aaron, isn’t it? He’s the one down on the ice.”
My focus whips toward the screen just as the cameraman zooms in on Aaron’s body, lying flat by the boards, his shoulder wrenched up at an unnatural angle over his head and blood on his helmet. He’s unconscious and clearly badly injured, the kind that’s going to require a lot more than some ice in the locker room.
Before I realize it, I’m on the move, running for my cell in the kitchen and calling Aaron’s grandmother.
Delores answers on the first ring with a strained, “Hello?” that makes it obvious, she’s seen the injury.
“Hey, Delores, it’s Melissa McGuire,” I say, my heart racing. “I saw what happened. If you need someone to take you to the hospital, let me know. I have family here who can watch my son while I drive you to wherever they’re taking him. Matty took Nora and the kittens out to the treehouse for a surprise, and they might not be reachable on their cells. Service is sketchy out there.”
She exhales a ragged breath. “Oh, thank you, Melissa. I was about to call Nora, but I don’t want to bother her if she’s on a date. Not until we know what’s happened to Aaron, anyway. But my boyfriend can’t drive at night, and I haven’t been safe behind the wheel for nearly a decade.”
“I’ll be over in twenty minutes,” I assure her. “Do you have a contact number with the Midges? Someone to call in case of an emergency?”
She says she does, I encourage her to call it and get more information about where they’ll be treating Aaron, and we end the call. Then, I sprint through the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom, ignoring my brother’s worried, “What’s wrong, Mel?”
I throw clothes in a bag just in case I’m at the hospital for longer than a day, and race back down the stairs. “I have to take Aaron’s gram to the hospital because Nora is out of town with Matty. Which one of you is staying over to watch Chase and take him to daycare in the morning?”