Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
The ‘or’ remains unsaid, but it’s there, hanging between them. Manly aggression has never done much for me, but watching Hayes expand his chest as he draws himself to his full height, body tight with coiled violence that he’s on the cusp of unleashing, I’m wetter than a Texas sprinkler system in high summer. Forester’s eyes flick to me, then back to Hayes. I guess he decides that it’s not worth angering the bear any further because he shrugs.
“Good luck,” is his parting comment, like Hayes will need it being with me.
When Forester and his cronies leave, crossing the quad like a pack of bears, the man so set on defending my honor and my person turns to me.
He doesn’t release my hand.
“You’ve really dug in deep now with the whole relationship thing,” I say.
“Yeah.” He looks at our linked hands, tightening around mine with his long, thick fingers.
“What you said…” I want to say it touched me, but that just sounds full of ‘feels’ I shouldn’t have.
“I meant it. That guy doesn’t know how to treat a woman. He’s like a friggin’ barbarian.”
“I’ve seen you on the ice,” I say. “I’ve seen what you do out there.”
Hayes’ smile is sheepish, and I get a flash of the boy he once was. Time and hormones have worked wonders on him in a way only the divine could be responsible for.
“That’s a legitimate tactic of the game.”
“Oh yeah?”
His grin is sweet, revealing a chip on his front tooth and dimples that turn his usual seriousness into innocent charm. It’s so completely at odds with the man I believed him to be. The bruise on his neck and his threats of violence are far from innocent.
“Can you believe it’s been eight years?”
I shake my head. Eight years have passed so fast, but the time has swollen between us as wide as an ocean.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s good. Busy. And your mom?”
“She married some asshole. Haven’t contacted her for nearly two years.” His shrug covers a whole barrel of feelings about the situation that he must have buried. His only living parent has chosen a man over her sons.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault.”
He squeezes my fingers and then drops my hand, leaving me unmoored, adrift. Sad from his confession and confused by the contrast between my imagined Hayes and the man he seems to be.
“It’s probably best to tell Forester that we broke up.”
“No way,” Hayes says. “I’m not leaving you out there unclaimed so that his army of assholes can swarm. You know that’s his intention, right?”
“I’m not a beehive, Hayes,” I scoff, the image of a battalion of sexy football players fighting over me too ridiculous to entertain.
“Friday,” Hayes says. “After the game. I’m taking you out. We have a lot to catch up on, and Forester and his buddies need it hammered into their thick Neanderthal skulls that you’re under my protection.”
The assertion that I need to be under anyone’s protection irritates me, but the way Hayes sips at his lukewarm coffee with a smile tugging his lips over the prospect melts my ire.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We have a history, Riley. Seems stupid not to connect in the present.”
“Friends?” I say, not believing my own mouth and its schmaltzy sentiment. What happened to all the hurt I’ve been wrapping with indignation for years, the hurt I’ve exorcised through my channel. Hayes, with his quiet confidence and protectiveness, has nudged it aside. His brothers are still on my own personal shitlist, though.
“Friday,” he says again, not agreeing or disagreeing with my categorization. “I’ll meet you outside O’Connors.”
“What about Jacob and Shawn?” I don’t mean it to sound like I want them to come, but I guess it must come out that way because Hayes stiffens. Is there a fracture between them now? They were always tight, and I thought they were still that way. “I just mean, are you going to tell them?”
“No,” Hayes says softly. “I don’t think I am.”
6
SHAWN
I’m buzzing with game-day energy responsible for the bounce in my step and the rush of adrenaline pulsing through my veins. We’re up against the Bayfield Warriors tonight, and it’s bound to be brutal. After Jacob’s less-than-successful practice, he’s amped up to prove something. And with Skarsgard showing promise, my brother is under even more pressure to perform. But it’s Hayes’ long-running friction with Jansen that could get bloody.
I live for this: the anticipation, knowing I get to lace up my skates and put it all on the line with my brothers and teammates.
With my hands shoved deep in my pockets, I squint against the sun, cutting through the trees. I’ve finished classes for the day, and my stomach demands attention. On the way to grab a sandwich at the campus coffee shop, I spot Riley, high ponytail swinging, neck lost in a fuchsia scarf, totally engaged in whatever she’s scrolling on her phone.