Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
It’s not my place to ruin it for her. Dalton will do that himself eventually. And truthfully, she probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. If someone had told me about Buchanan, I absolutely would’ve shot the messenger and not believed a word they told me. When I was ready, I found out on my own, and Mollie will too.
“I won’t say a word,” I vow flatly. “Excuse me.”
I push past them to speed-wash my hands, no birthday song in my head because I can’t possibly be in here that long without falling apart.
“Well, I guess it’s nice to meet you,” June tells Mollie, but I can feel the weight of her eyes on me. She’s probably worried I’m gonna expose her brother’s affair with a Moosette and ruin his stellar season.
“You, too, Junie. I’m sure we’ll get to know each other better after Dalton wins the playoffs and gets drafted to the majors. Maybe you and I can plan his signing party together?” Mollie uses a nickname for June with ease, like they’re new besties who’re probably gonna get matching mani-pedis later, and makes the party suggestion like it’s all a done deal.
That motherfucking, lying, cheating asshole of a man!
I want to cut his big, beautiful, perfect dick off and feed it to him until he chokes on that damn piercing. I want to cut all the laces out of his skates, put ex-lax in his 5-hour energy bottles so he has violent diarrhea on the ice midgame, break his favorite stick, pour sugar in his gas tank, and glitter bomb his house.
I should’ve fucking known it was too good to be true. This is why I don’t date athletes. A lifetime of being told they’re special, having people literally scream their names, and living on a pedestal can lead to only one thing—arrogant jerks who think they’re entitled to anything and everything their heart, and dick, desires.
Hands still dripping, I walk out of the restroom. I set my jaw, straighten my back, and steel my heart as I step into the crowd. Fast as I can, I nearly sprint my way back to our table.
As soon as Rayleigh sees me, she asks, “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, yanking my jacket on and grabbing my purse from the back of a chair. “Nothing. I’m not feeling well. Gonna head out.”
“Okay, let’s go,” she says, instantly standing and grabbing her own stuff.
“No, stay with June so she’s not alone. I’m just going home.”
Rayleigh looks unsure but glances behind her, checking for June. Rayleigh’s not the type to leave a woman behind, especially since she’s so recently been the new girl in town. June might only be visiting, but Rayleigh doesn’t want her to be lonely.
“Really, I’m okay. Hang with June.”
I don’t give Rayleigh a chance to argue or ask any more questions. I stride for the door, telling myself not to look back. I almost make it, but right as I’m about to exit, I peek over my shoulder, telling myself it’s stupid even as I do it. I find Dalton easily, as if my eyes needed one last look. He’s posing for a picture with a group of people—some players, some fans, and some Moosettes. Of fucking course. I stare for what feels like forever, but he doesn’t glance my way, probably enjoying himself too much.
Fuck you, Dalton Days!
I don’t say it aloud, as much as I’d like to. No, I leave quietly, falling apart as soon as I get in my car and drive away.
Chapter 26
Dalton
I didn’t expect today’s after-game to be this big of a deal. It’s a Saturday night, so maybe some of these people are at Chuck’s for their weekly outing, but either way, it’s turned into a Moose-lebration.
I’ve been chatting with teammates, taking pictures, and I might’ve had a few fried pickles that definitely aren’t on Fritzi’s nutrition plan. I’ll have to burn those off later with Joy.
Everything’s going great, until . . .
“We need to talk. Now.”
June and Rayleigh are shoulder to shoulder and both bowed up at me with matching glares wishing death on me and my entire bloodline. That’s saying something since June literally is my family. As if that’s not enough, she digs her finger into my chest. She might be little, only five-three, and cute as a bug, with dark eyes and messy hair, but my sister is a monster. She learned from the best—our mom. And Rayleigh, while usually the picture of serenity, currently looks like Mars is in her retrograde or something.
“What?” I ask in confusion, my eyes darting back and forth between the two women.
“Seriously?” Rayleigh sniffs.
It’s only one word, but I’ve never heard that biting tone from her. And it suddenly hits me that’s there’s one Musketeer missing from their merry band. They’ve been virtually glued together all night—line dancing, sharing appetizers, and talking like long-lost besties. Until now.