Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
My jaw drops. They have got to stop this.
I try to make my way to the area behind the team’s bench, but security won’t let me get close. “I’m a sports reporter with the local station. And that’s my brother, and that’s my boyfriend,” I argue.
Coach Wilson hears me and turns around. I wave, thinking he’ll tell the security guard to let me by, but he snarls at me. “Not now, Barlowe.”
That’s all the security guard needs to hear, and he bodily blocks me from getting any closer. “Ma’am, if you don’t return to your seat, I’ll have to escort you from the building.”
“Shepherd! Dalton!” I yell, but they can’t hear me.
With nothing else to do, I make my way back to my seat.
“Honey! What in the world is going on?” Mom asks, worry clouding her eyes.
She’s the only one worried, though. All around us, people are glaring at me in anger. They might not know what’s happening, but they know I had a sign for Dalton, which led to Shepherd attacking him, putting everyone’s favorite players out for the game. That’s enough to make me the villain in their minds.
“Dalton and I have been dating,” I tell her quietly.
She nods, not looking the least bit surprised. “Yeah, and?”
Confused at the nonreaction, I frown. “You know?”
“Of course we know. You’ve been dating for months. How oblivious do you think we are?” She glances at Dad and huffs out, “Jim, I swear our children are dumber than rocks and think we’re somehow even stupider than that.”
My parents know. They’ve known for a while. Yet they never said anything. I stare at them, shocked.
“We figured you’d tell us when you were ready,” Dad explains. “You might’ve picked a better time to tell your brother, though.” He looks past me to the bench, where Shepherd and Dalton are being kept apart by the remainder of the Moose players.
“Yeah, about that . . .”
Chapter 28
Dalton
DeBoer’s doing fucking awesome.
It’s the one bright spot of riding the bench. A few months ago, I would’ve been pissed that he was doing well. Might’ve even secretly wished he’d fall on his ass. But now, I’m proud of him and glad he’s getting a chance to shine.
If only it wasn’t because Shepherd’s threatening to cut my dick off and feed it to me for daring to fuck his sister.
“I love her, asshole,” I hiss, not sure if he can actually hear me on the other end of the bench.
“Did you just say that you love her asshole?” Blakely asks, staring at me, gobsmacked.
I growl at him. “No, tell Shepherd that he’s being an asshole because I love Joy.”
Blakeley shakes his head, his eyes still wide as if that’s just as bad. “I’m not telling him that. Don’t think anyone else is looking to play telephone down the bench for you either.”
I lean forward, trying to look each man in the eye, but they’re all studiously keeping their attention on the game. Even Shepherd refuses to meet my gaze, but I’m pretty sure he’s staring holes in the wall across the ice from him. I think there could be skating elephants doing triple salchows out there right now and he wouldn’t notice because he’s likely plotting my slow and painful demise.
“Fine. This conversation is happening, though,” I say to no one in particular.
Final score: Royals: 6. Moose: 5.
DeBoer doesn’t let a single goal past him. All six of those failures are on my shoulders. The loss is my fault.
It’s an odd vibe in the locker room. People want to congratulate DeBoer and VanZandt for stepping up even though we ultimately lost, but they’re also eyeing Shepherd and me like we’re going to start whaling on each other again at any second.
They’re right.
“What the fuck, Days?” Shep yells, throwing his arms out as he comes in from the hallway. “One rule, that’s all I ask, and everyone here knows it. What’s the rule, guys?”
Someone recites, “Don’t fuck a teammate’s sister.”
“That’s right. Hope and Joy have been off-limits since day one, and you know it!” He points an accusing finger at me. “So what do you do? Go and fuck her. You did, didn’t you? Don’t try to deny it. Why else would she be holding up a damn ‘I love you’ sign? You stick your dick in damn near anything that walks, get them all fucked up in the head, and then move on to the next, don’tcha, One-Night?”
I’m doing my best to let him rant. He needs to get it all out. But I can’t let that stand. Not when he’s talking about Joy that way. She might be his sister, but she’s my heart.
I move in, throwing a punch of my own this time . . . right to his jaw. I feel it connect, feel the shift of his jaw because he wasn’t expecting me to fight back when he’s certain he’s got righteousness on his side.