Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“Everyone needs a safe place to go. We also get a lot of teens from the local group homes because we have a few special programs,” Dred continues, her smile soft. “Those kids are my favorite. I grew up in the foster system, so I commiserate. Big chips on their shoulders until you offer them cookies and a juice box.”
“I still love a juice box and a cookie,” I reply.
“Same.”
My phone pings with a message from Ophelia. “I need a second. This is my sister.”
Big Pheels
Today’s baking adventure courtesy of mini croissants.
Callie wants hot dogs for dinner. Please tell her that’s not food.
Lexi
I’m at a restaurant. I can bring something yummy home!
“What’s your favorite thing on the menu?” I ask Dred. “I want to bring my sisters dinner.”
“Everything is good here. You can never go wrong with their loaded potato skins though.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” I relay that message and send a link to the menu.
Big Pheels
Will look and report back.
“That’s cool that you and your sisters live together.” Dred sips her drink. “You must be so close.”
“I’m actually their legal guardian.”
Her eyes flare. “Oh. Wow. That’s…Can I ask how old they are?”
“Yeah. Sure.” This is always such a hard conversation. “Ophelia is seventeen, and Calliope is eight. They’re my half-sisters. We have different dads, and the same mom. Had.” I shake my head. “My mom and stepdad passed away last year in a boating accident.”
“I’m so sorry.” Dred touches my shoulder. “That must be so hard for all of you.”
I nod, not wanting to talk about my own feelings. I’ve learned how to compartmentalize them. It’s the only way I’ve made it this far. “But they’re great girls, and I love them. We’re all learning as we go.”
“You’re the real deal, aren’t you? You really have your shit together,” Dred says.
I laugh. “Is that how it looks? Sometimes I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.” Should I have said that out loud? Usually I have a decent handle on things. I live for hockey. Getting what I want out of a player, what the team needs out of a player, feels damn good. But right now...everything seems unsteady.
“I think we all feel like that at some point.” She props her cheek on her fist. “This might sound super woo-woo, but we’re drawn to places and people for a reason, right?”
“That doesn’t sound woo-woo.”
She motions to the table and drops her voice. “I think you belong here, Lexi. These women, this team? They’re the most amazing family, and I get to be part of it. If you want it, you can be, too.”
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Family feels like a pretty bedtime story. What she’s describing is nothing I’ve had before. For the past year it’s been me and my sisters, and before then, I still didn’t truly feel like I quite fit anywhere. I loved my mom, but she and I had our struggles. And my dad loves me, but he’s married to his job. I know what it is to feel alone. To belong? I crave it, but it seems impossible.
“Shit. I’m making you emotional.” Dred gives me a side hug. “Subject change. What’s your favorite board game?”
I laugh. “What?”
“Favorite board game. Everyone needs to have one. What’s yours?”
“Mastermind.”
“Hell yes.” She cups her hands and shouts. “Flip, I have a new board-game bestie. Lexi and I are Mastermind soul mates.”
“Finally, you can beat someone else at that fucking game!” he calls back.
The server delivers platters of nachos and appetizers. We eat and laugh and talk, and I find myself yearning for more of this easy friendship.
When Ophelia messages with dinner requests, I excuse myself to place a to-go order.
“You’re a new face.” A businessman nursing a lowball glass of amber liquid flashes a dimpled smile my way. “You with the team?” He inclines his head across the bar to where Roman and the guys are chatting and watching sports highlights.
“I am, yeah.”
Roman’s shrewd gaze meets mine for a moment before it shifts to the guy beside me. As soon as I avert my eyes, I feel Roman looking at me. I’m suddenly hot, and anxious, as if I’m doing something wrong. Which is ridiculous. I’m just making polite conversation with another man. Roman and I can’t be anything to each other. I can’t ever be his perfect, naughty angel again. I’m his coach, and he’s a player. That’s where it starts and ends.
Thankfully, the server comes over. I place my order and return to the table. I swear I still feel Roman’s eyes on me, the weight of them pinning me in place. And sure enough, when I glance in his direction, he’s looking. Unease slithers down my spine. These tentative friendships are on shaky ground until Roman and I discuss our past. I’m the outsider, he’s not.