Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Not that I know what that would be.
I’d spent two years fucking up my life. Meeting one random hot cowboy at the Hard Spot wasn’t going to fix it.
The bar top in the Hard Spot was gleaming, only weathered in a few spots where the finish had worn down over time. The crowd inside had thinned out by now, though there were still a few groups dancing to country music over in one corner, and others playing pool in some of the alcoves surrounded by shelves. The pattering sound of the storm came through whenever there was a lull in the noise. Each time the front doors swung open as another group left, the scent of rain floated in.
I reached over and grabbed an almost-empty jar of Maraschino cherries sitting on the inner ridge of the bar. I popped a few more in my mouth, one by one, getting lost in thought about how quickly things had deflated.
Kane was finally in a lull from serving drinks a couple of minutes later, and he made his way over to me behind the bar.
“How’s your night been?” I asked him when he came over.
“Hey. You’re cuttin’ into my bottom line with those cherries.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “The jar had about three cherries left in it. You think that’s going to bankrupt the Hard Spot?”
“No, but don’t reach behind my bar again,” he warned, giving me his signature death glare.
“I get it, I get it,” I said. “I won’t.”
Kane stretched his arms above his head. “Tonight has been good, actually. It’s been a little wild, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen more tips in my life,” he said. “Hard work, great payout. I’m not complaining.”
I gave him a fist bump. “Proud of you, bro.”
“Don’t call me that.”
I held up my hands. “What’s wrong with bro? What do you want me to say, my brother my king, oh, glorious older, wiser Sanocki—”
“Shut it,” he said, but I could tell he wanted to laugh.
“I’m glad the summer kickoff went well.”
“How about you?” Kane asked, giving me a look that had a lot more questions behind it. “I’m proud of you, too, you know. If you need anything, let me know.”
I set my jaw.
My brother could be a prick, but he was also a natural-born helper.
Sometimes too much of a helper. That’s where the protective stepdad attitude came in. For the last two years, Kane and I hadn’t been speaking, and I’d forgotten what this side of his personality could be like.
Kane had hated Elliot. My ass had been defiant and loyal, defending my ex and his demands to keep our relationship in the dark. Elliot was on the hockey team at TNU too, but he hadn’t wanted anyone to know what we did together.
So I kept it a secret.
From the whole team.
The whole frat house.
Everybody other than my brother.
It had been my first serious relationship, and I’d been too dumb to see it for what it was. My brother had told me about a hundred times that he thought my relationship with Elliot was a bad road to go down. My stubborn ass had told him to fuck right off. And we didn’t talk for way too long because of it.
…Turned out Kane was right.
After I’d been dumped, my brother and I had slowly started speaking again over the past couple of months.
But that didn’t mean I wanted to be treated like a kid again.
“I’m all good, K. I promise.”
Kane busied himself behind the bar, acting like he wasn’t about to grill me with questions, even though I knew what was coming.
“How was the first game last week?” he finally asked.
“Felt good to kick some Kansas ass. I’d lose my mind if I couldn’t play until next season.”
The summer hockey league allowed me to stay on the ice all summer. Unfortunately, Elliot was there, too. Most of the TNU team had joined this summer.
Kane reached out to squeeze my shoulder. “I know it ain’t easy, but you’re doing the right thing. With the classes, too.”
I fiddled with a stray straw wrapper on the bar.
I almost failed out of school a couple of years ago.
I’d also nearly lost my scholarship.
Tennessee didn’t give out many hockey scholarships to begin with, so when my grades dropped, it was bad news. I’d ignored my studies, getting wrapped up in Elliot’s world, skipping classes when he asked me to go meet him.
Before Elliot, I’d been a straight-A student ever since I was a kid. Even though Kane was several years older than me, he’d always said I was the smarter one. That all changed fast.
But now I was picking up the pieces. Making up for lost time in my summer classes. Hopefully I’d be able to graduate at the normal time, at the end of next year.
“So what’s the deal with Mason?” I asked.