Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
I’ve spent the past couple of days trying to convince myself that he was exactly the asshole I’d always assumed. Now, my cousin is stirring up trouble and making me question everything I’d thought was true.
I don’t like it.
More than that, I don’t appreciate it.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I whisper for a second time.
“Maybe I don’t want to see you make a mistake.” He reaches across the table and places his hand over mine before quickly withdrawing it. The touch is fleeting. There and gone before I can process the tenderness of the gesture. “Although, I think we can both admit that I’m the last person who should be giving you advice on your love life.”
I snort out a laugh.
Even though I love my cousin dearly, he’s no better than a lot of the football players on campus. Hell, he might even be worse. Although, I would fight anyone who repeated the sentiment. That’s just how we roll.
Since high school, he’s left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Sometimes, I have my doubts that he’ll ever settle down.
Why would he bother?
Girls come out of the woodwork just for the chance to throw themselves at him, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. This is his last year playing college hockey before he enters the draft. And there’s no doubt in my mind he’ll end up playing professionally. He could have gone straight to the NHL from high school, but he chose to attend Western and play for one of the best coaches in Division I college hockey.
“Whatever you decide,” he says, “I’ll stand by you.”
My lips lift into a smile.
No matter what happens, I have my family. That’s not always a comforting thought, but right now, staring at Ryder, it means the world to me.
39
CROSBY
I unsnap the chin strap and yank off my helmet before shaking out my damp hair. Even though the air is cold, I’m sweating from a grueling two-hour practice. Now that it’s over and I’m not focused on the physical pain ricocheting through my body, thoughts of Brooke rush in, inundating every cell in my brain. If there were a way to switch it off, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Andrew laughs with a couple of guys from the O line as they shuffle toward the locker room. A few seconds later, Coach barks out a handful of names. My guess is that it’s for an ass chewing. Relief floods through me that I’m not on the list.
Was today one of my best practices?
Nope. Not even close.
My head isn’t in the game. I’m a second too slow and not where I should be on the field. I need to get my shit together before it becomes more of a problem.
As a couple of players beeline toward Coach, Andrew meets my gaze before giving me a slight chin lift in acknowledgement. It’s the most I’ve gotten from him in days. The apartment has turned into one hell of a frosty place to be. It’s enough to freeze my nuts off. I’ve been spending a lot of time hanging out at the football house, crashing on their couch.
This is the first time in more than a decade of solid friendship that we’ve had a problem. All right, so maybe that isn’t one hundred percent true. Even though I’ve had my fair share of issues with the guy, I’ve always shrugged them off. I’ve pushed his irritating tendencies aside, refusing to let them crawl under my skin. When he’s riled me up or pissed me off, I’ve let it go, not wanting to make waves. This is the first time I haven’t been able to do that.
No one other than Brooke could have come between us.
Instead of turning his back the way I expect, he closes the distance before falling into line with me and staring at my face. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Ryder’s fist happened.”
His lips quirk as a few chuckles escape. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” There’s a pause before he adds, “All I gotta say is better you than me, dude.”
I snort. Leave it to Andrew to find the humor in this situation. There’s no love lost between him and Brooke’s hot-headed cousin. Although, my teammate didn’t stand there and take it like I did. You better believe he gave as good as he got. They both walked away with blackened eyes and split lips.
An uncomfortable silence settles over us as we walk toward the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms beneath the bleachers. There’s a part of me that feels like I should apologize so we can smooth this over and move on. Football ends in January, but the lease on our apartment won’t be up until May. It’s an awfully long time to go without talking or interacting.