Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
My heart flip-flops again.
Ledger stands and carries the pup out of the cramped bathroom, drying his head, then his belly, then carefully blotting each paw.
I follow him, plucking at my wet sweater.
There’s not much room in my home, and every square inch is filled with wet dog, big men, and me.
After rubbing the towel down the dog’s bony spine one last time, Ledger puts our new companion on the floor. The pup shakes again, leaving a huge circle of water droplets on the tiles.
“How does he have any more water on him?” Ledger sounds amused and a little bit in love.
I get it.
“He was a dirty boy,” Dev says, crouching down and offering the dog a palm for sniffing.
Nervously at first, then boldly, the boy scampers over to Dev, then downward dogs him, shaking his butt, gone from scared to friendly in a few hours.
On the way home with the dog, we’d stopped at a grocery store and grabbed some kibble, a collar, and some dog toys. It’s one a.m., too late to call Little Friends, but I’ll do that in the morning, see if he’s someone’s dog who got out. For now, the pup runs around my kitchen, then barks at the bowl where we fed him earlier.
It’s empty now. “Maybe he’s hoping he can conjure more food into it,” Ledger says.
“He needs a dog butler,” Dev jokes, then looks my way. “He needs a—”
“Fitzgibbons,” we say in unison.
Dev scratches him under the furry chin and nods to Ledger. “Give this boy some more kibble, will ya?”
Ledger grabs the bag, shakes some nuggets into the ceramic dish with the paw-prints pattern, and then returns the bag to the counter while our sleepover guest chows down.
I head to my bedroom to strip off my soaked clothes and tug on some sleep shorts and a cami.
I haven’t technically invited the guys over, and though it seems a fait accompli, I’ve been learning that words are actions. They matter. When I return to the living room, my guys are yawning, so I hook my thumb in the direction of my bedroom. “There’s only one bed here, but I think it can fit all of us.”
Ledger grins. “I bet it can.”
A few minutes later, I’m under the covers with Ledger. Dev’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. “Well, looks like you two finagled a sleepover pretty quickly,” I say.
Ledger scoffs. “Don’t put it past us to pull out all the stops to get one. But no, we didn’t plan a dog rescue to get into your bed,” he says, then slides closer to me.
But a dog rescue is doing things to my heart. “How’s your knee? I’ve been wondering. Been thinking about you.”
A smile tilts his lips briefly, then he inhales deeply to answer, “It’s okay.”
“Does it hurt when you skate?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it hurts when I don’t skate. Mostly it doesn’t.”
“Is that good?” I ask, trying to read between the lines and determine if he’s really okay.
“I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
But I do worry. I stare at him with the same intensity he gives to me. “Are you being Stern Brunch Daddy?”
“Maybe. But you love that.” He swipes a finger down my cheek.
“Ledger,” I implore.
“Trust me. I feel good, especially right now.”
My heart cartwheels. “I don’t want you to get hurt though.”
He pushes up onto an elbow. “I know you don’t.” He comes in for a brief, hot kiss. “And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” He pulls back and meets my gaze with vulnerable blue eyes. “My dad wants me to go into the broadcast booth with him when I retire.”
Oh. I hadn’t even realized that was an option. “Do you want to?”
“I haven’t told him I’m retiring.” He drags a hand across his hair. This is hard for him. I set a palm on his chest so he can feel my support.
“Maybe you’re not ready to tell him yet.”
His soft laugh stirs the air. “Yeah, I’m definitely not. I’ll need to soon though. I saw him before the season started, and he mentioned working with him. It’s my last year on the ice, and I couldn’t tell my dad.” Another pause, the kind where it’s clear he’s deep in thought. “Aubrey?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know what I want to do when I retire.” It must be a hard thing to say, but he sounds utterly relieved to have said it.
I meet his gaze again. “That’s okay.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah. Maybe you’ll just…take time off.”
A smile shifts his lips. “Maybe I will.”
It sounds like he’s giving himself permission at last to think differently. He drops another kiss to my forehead. “I wanted to tell you all that for a while.”
“I’m glad you did,” I say, then pause. “Are you still having nightmares?”
“Not as often. Actually, a whole lot less. I think you were right. I was just working through stuff.”