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)
“Gee, thanks, Dad,” I huff.
“It’s a compliment and you know it, my girl,” Dad insists.
He’s right, and I absolutely took it as such. Over the years, I’ve honed my repartee to be sharply precise, painfully accurate, and delivered without anything to soften the verbal blows. It’s served me well when dealing with the guys in my work life.
When Shepherd stays quiet, I gently ask, “You ready for this?”
He crosses his arms over his chest, his feet wide and his jaw stone, like he knows this is gonna suck, but he dips his chin once in answer.
“You want it all or the highlights? Fair warning, you won’t like the early parts.”
He swallows hard, but still putting up a valiant fight, he says, “Tell me the important parts. I don’t need to hear about you getting railed by my best friend.”
“Shepherd James Barlowe!” Mom exclaims harshly.
“Son.” Dad’s quiet warning has more impact, and Shep sighs. It’s the sound of resignation to hearing what I have to say.
“Fine,” I say. “We were being friendly, for good reason, with expectations that we both understood. Somewhere along the way, we became . . . more. A lot more. And Dalton wanted to tell you. We must’ve talked about it a half dozen times, but every time, I told him not to. Then I begged him not to. Hell, in the end, I basically ordered him not to.” I look at my hands, not able to stop fidgeting with my fingers. I’m ashamed of what I went through to hide Dalton and me. “Be mad at me, not him,” I plead with Shepherd. “Please, don’t blame him.”
“Why?” Shepherd asks, pinning me with a hard look. “Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”
He’s softened ever so slightly as I explain, his arms falling to his sides and his face fixed in concern, not anger. But the look in his eyes now . . .
It’s then I realize how much my actions hurt my brother.
We’ve always shared a love for hockey, and in turn, that’s made us close over the years. We’re more than siblings. We’re friends. And as much as Shep feels betrayed by Dalton, he also feels betrayed by me.
“I know this is hard for you to understand, dear brother, but there are some things that aren’t about you,” I tease, but it falls flat. More seriously, I confess, “I have some issues with trust. I’m working on them with Dalton’s help, but they held me back from fully committing long after he was all in. Not telling you was basically me betting against myself.”
“Honey,” Mom whispers. When I glance over, her eyes are glittery with unshed tears and her hands cover her mouth.
I take a steadying breath. “The bad shit was a long time ago, but I let it change me. And it almost cost me Dalton. Luckily, he’s the forgiving sort.”
“Always hated that Buchanan fellow,” Dad tells Mom, and she nods in agreement, her nose wrinkled in distaste and lips pressed into a flat line.
My brows drop down in shock. I never told them what happened with me and Buchanan, so how . . . why . . . Is there anything my parents don’t know about? “What?”
Dad cocks his head, looking at me like I’m stupid. “We know a lot, about a lot of things.”
Oh yeah. They knew about Dalton and me too.
“How did you find out about us?” I ask.
They smile at each other, and Dad shrugs, telling Mom to be the one to share. “You started calling him Dalton months ago. You’d be giving us the pregame report Voughtman this and Hanovich that. The only players you call by their first names are Shepherd and Dalton. We knew something went down at Chuck’s but weren’t sure what until Hope called last night. She said you were drunk texting but okay.” Mom frowns, not liking that one bit. “So we—and by we, I mean me, so don’t be mad at your father—decided to get tickets for the game, thinking it might help. But then you called him Days again, which was when we knew it was really bad.”
Dad nods, agreeing with Mom’s entire report.
“Your meddling ended up getting Shep and Dalton thrown out of the game for unsportsmanlike conduct,” I remind them.
“Oh, nothing more than a little tussling between teammates,” Dad says, brushing the fight off. “They’ll be fine.”
I hope that’s true. I truly want Shep and Dalton to remain friends. I want Shep and me to remain friends too.
I turn my attention back to my brother, my eyes pleading with him to accept this. “I’m sorry, Shepherd. I can’t say that I wish we’d told you a long time ago, because I wasn’t ready then. Hell, I wasn’t ready now, but I got that way really quick when the alternative was losing Dalton.”