Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
She opens the door and leads the way to Jasmine’s light purple bedroom, where I lay her down on her bed. It’s covered in sheets with stars, and Kylie pulls the covers up over her daughter and kisses her on the forehead.
When I walk back downstairs, she follows me. I pause in front of the door, my hand on the doorknob.
“Have a good road trip,” Kylie says. “And don’t forget about dinner when you get back.”
The corners of my lips quirk up in a smile as I tuck a small, stray section of hair behind her ear. “No way I could ever forget. It’s all I’ll be thinking about.”
I want to kiss her while I still can. Before I tell her the whole truth about who I am and what I’ve been through, and she sees me through different eyes. Her mom lives here, though, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself after just a kiss.
Instead, I run my fingers over her cheek, cupping it gently. When I brush the pad of my thumb over her lips, her eyes widen with longing.
It’s painful, wanting one woman this much. And watching her reactions, knowing she wants me back…well, that’s almost more than I can take.
“Good night, Kylie,” I say, my voice thick with desire.
“Good night, Pax.”
I force myself to open the door and leave, every step toward my car taking me farther from the only woman in the past nine years who made me wish I could have more.
Be more.
Chapter Fourteen
Kylie
I reach for another piece of pizza from the box on my coffee table, eyes on the TV as Pax skates over to the penalty box, not questioning the boarding call that earned him some time in the sin bin.
“Listen to those Seattle fans,” my mom says, shaking her head with disapproval. “They don’t like him at all, do they?”
“Bunch of crybabies,” Jasmine says, scowling as she loads her plate back up with another piece of pizza and a breadstick.
“Hey, you know I don’t like the name-calling,” I say.
“Mom, it’s just because I’m watching hockey. Uncle Pike calls them fucking pussies, and all I said was crybabies.”
Hearing those words from my sweet little girl’s mouth makes me recoil.
“Excuse you, Jasmine Marie?”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“If I hear those words out of your mouth again, there will be no more watching hockey with Uncle Pike.”
She puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. But…do you mean the word crybaby, too, or just…FP?”
My mom gets up from her chair and walks into the kitchen, not wanting Jasmine to see her smiling. It’s all fun and games being the grandma who gets to watch you fight the same battles with your own kid that she once fought with you.
“I mean any profanity,” I clarify.
“Okay.”
Jasmine looks at the screen and cringes. “Oh great, they scored on the power play. Come on, Pax, you have to stay out of the box!”
My urge to defend Pax is immediate and strong.
“Someone on the other team gave Maverick a concussion the last time they played, so Pax is showing them that’s not okay. That’s part of his job.”
“Because he’s an enforcer, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay, but what’s more important? Winning the game or showing the other team what’s not okay?”
I chew my pizza slowly, trying to think of the right answer. I’ve got nothing, though.
“That’s a question for Uncle Pike or Pax.”
“Uncle Pike. He knows more about hockey than anyone.”
I love the way Jasmine idolizes my brother. She was only one year old when her dad was injured, and he was deployed for much of her first year. With no memories of him, she’s never had a father figure in her life.
Since Pike settled down with Indie, he’s become a better version of himself. He drinks less and is happier than I’ve ever seen him. Indie’s son Nolan doesn’t have a father figure around anymore, either, and Pike has risen to the occasion.
“Come on, guys,” Jasmine says as Pax skates away from the penalty box on the screen. “Let’s get that goal back.”
“Kylie, can you come in here?” my mom calls from the kitchen.
I pick up an empty pizza box and take it with me, finding my mom smiling at me from her seat at the well-worn kitchen table Eric made me a decade ago. From her expression, I’m pretty sure she just got great news.
“What is it?” I ask her.
She stands and walks over to me, handing me her phone. When I look at it, I see a photo from the VIP dinner I went to with Pax. Or, as I call it in my mind, The First Kiss Dinner. There was a photographer taking photos that night, but this is the first time I’ve seen any of them.
I’m beaming at the camera, probably still on cloud nine from that kiss. Pax has one arm wrapped around my waist, but rather than looking at the camera, his gaze is fixed on me. And what I see in his expression takes my breath away. He looks awed, like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world to him.