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)
Maybe he wouldn’t tell Riley. He doesn’t like showing weakness at the best of times, especially not in front of a woman he cares for. He wouldn’t want anything to change her opinion of him as a strong and capable man. Even when his heart was breaking, he wouldn’t let our mom see his disappointment in her self-absorbed behavior.
Riley squeezes my arm, and I watch a trickle of water coast down her neck and over her clavicle, disappearing into the soft fluff of the towel. “You need to talk to him, Hayes, before it gets worse. He has to come clean with the doctor, at least.”
I nod, but the thought of confronting Jacob fills me with dread. He won’t want to hear it, and if he’s anything like Dad, he’ll push us all away before admitting something’s wrong. Still, I can’t ignore this, not when his health is at stake.
For Jacob. For all of us. “I will.”
But as Riley leans her head against my shoulder, scented with my shampoo, her quiet presence grounding me, I glance at the journal again. There’s so much I still don’t understand, so many questions I may never find answers to.
And one overwhelming fear: what if Jacob’s following the same path?
30
SHAWN
The smell of chlorine clings to my skin as I step out of the rec center into the damp evening air, my duffel bag slung over one shoulder and water still dripping from my hair. Collins is waiting for me in the parking lot, leaning against my car with the kind of smug grin that can only mean trouble.
Collins is one of those guys who thrives on chaos. Tall, wiry, and strong with a head of messy blond curls and a permanent devil-may-care attitude, he lives for the drama off the ice as much as on it. If there’s dirt to be found, Collins will dig it up, and then laugh about it while shoving it in your face. He has enough gossip to run Perez Hilton into the ground.
“Shawny-boy,” he calls, pushing off the car as I approach.
“Collins,” I mutter, adjusting my duffel.
He pulls out his phone, the smirk on his face widening as he swipes the screen. “Thought you’d want to see this little gem.”
He thrusts the phone toward me, and it takes me a while to squint at the screen and work out what I’m looking at. When I do, I freeze.
The image on the screen is... well, let’s just say it’s not PG. There I am, sprawled out on a hotel bed, naked, with two girls draped over me like accessories. One’s kissing my neck, the other’s straddling my lap, and the whole thing screams bad decisions.
The timing couldn’t be worse.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, yanking the phone closer to get a better look. “Where the hell did you find this?”
Collins snorts. “You know me. I follow all the bunny sites so I can identify the most rabid fans.”
Gross. I mean, I’m no stranger to casual sex, but hunting down the girls who fuck around with your teammates or competitors the most. That’s a new kind of low.
“You’re trending, buddy. Some puck bunny must’ve been holding onto this for a rainy day. Found it on Playing with the Puckers. You know, that R-rated bunny forum?”
I groan, rubbing a hand over my face, and Collins laughs, unbothered by my mortification. “Don’t sweat it, man. You’re in good company. At least half the team’s on there.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better?” I snap, but his grin doesn’t falter.
“Relax. Nobody takes it seriously.” He scrolls through the page. “It’s all just trashy fun.”
But then he pauses, his expression shifting as his thumb hovers over the screen.
“Uh, okay, maybe not all of it,” he mutters. I peer over his shoulder at the screen beneath a search for my name. The top result is ‘Shawn Drayton’s double pucking luck,’ an article on a high-profile hockey site with some censored, but still obvious, photos and some commentary on how I enjoy double dipping.
My stomach drops.
“Looks like someone decided to share the love,” Collins says, his tone losing some of its humor.
“Someone other than me,” I say dryly, tipping my head to the sky. Stars fan out overhead, and a moon that looks almost too perfectly round, a big face staring down at me, judging. I remember how it felt to be between those two women like I was king of the world. Pathetic that I was thinking, ‘fuck Lucy’ with each thrust, like having two girls willing to be half my focus made up for the one girl who dumped me for my best friend.
It’s worse than pathetic. It’s pitiable.
Collins makes a troubled sound that reverberates in the empty lot. “This one’s making the rounds on Insta. Got a couple thousand likes already.”
“Fuck.” The word comes out with all the sharpness of a dagger, and Collins raises an eyebrow.