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)
“That’d be awesome,” I admit. My brother’s been having a good season, too, but nothing like Dalton, and I say that objectively as a journalist and stats analyzer. “But not likely. The Otters’ center is top tier, and they have alternates on the bench already.”
June frowns sympathetically, understanding exactly what that means for Shepherd’s chances with our local NHL team. Turning to Rayleigh, she asks, “Who’re you dating again?”
“Oh! I’m not. I’m here because of Joy,” Rayleigh says quickly. “She keeps trying to get me hooked into hockey, but mostly I’m hooked into the friend group. When they start talking offensive this and defensive that, I smile and nod.” She demonstrates, her eyes going vacant and her smile vapid as she lifts and lowers her chin robotically.
“Sorry,” June tells her, reaching for her hand on the table. “I thought all the girls here were paired up with one of the players, or wanted to be. Kinda always been like that.” June scans the crowd with an easy smile, seemingly not worried at all about who might be dating her brother even though there are fans and Moosettes surrounding them, and Shepherd currently has Dalton in a headlock, acting like he’s pushing his head down in a blowjob move that’d get most guys thrown up on by any reasonable gag reflex.
Meanwhile, Rayleigh is eyeing me with interest, with one eyebrow arched so high that it’s disappeared behind her newly cut bangs. She doesn’t know Dalton and I are dating, but I’m sure she strongly suspects it after our Pilates session ages ago and my complete lack of discussion on my dating life ever since. Thankfully, she hasn’t asked questions. Until now with that eyebrow.
“Excuse me, gonna hit the ladies’ room,” I tell Rayleigh and June, making my escape from her silent interrogation.
“Oh, I’ll go too,” June says, joining me.
We weave through the crowd, wait our turn for a stall, and finally, I lock the door behind me to take care of business.
A few moments later, I hear a voice say, “You’re Dalton’s sister, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Hi, I’m June.”
I peer through the crack in the stall door and see a woman talking to June while they wait their turn.
“It’s so great to finally meet you,” she gushes. “I’m Mollie.” She says her name like it should mean something, as if it has inherent weight or importance, and I rack my brain trying to find something, anything, about this woman in my mental file cabinet, but come up empty.
She’s pretty, though. Mollie has dark hair that brushes below her breasts in perfect curls, her eyes are rimmed in black liner and glamorously long lashes, and she’s wearing a Moose jersey that’s been cut off to a belly button–skimming length. I notice the number on the jersey is Dalton’s and have an instant, soul-deep hate for her, but I remind myself that I overreacted last time, so I can chill. For a second at least.
“Nice to meet you, Mollie. Do you know Dalton or are you a fan?” June smiles warmly and points at her jersey.
Mollie laughs, the sound tinkling and fake. “More like both. Did he really not mention me? He’s such a doll.”
The second of not overreacting is over because something in her tone sends a cold shiver of dread down my spine. I catch my breath, not daring to move even though I’m finished, have my jeans buttoned, and only need to flush. But I want to hear every bit of this. I squint to focus on the thin crack so I can see it all too.
As if she’s spilling classified, top-secret intel, Mollie looks around, seeing that it’s only her and June in the restroom now, though she doesn’t check for feet beneath the doors or else she’d see my brown boots. Quieter, she stage-whispers, “Well, we’re not telling anyone . . . yet, because it’s technically against the rules—” She pauses dramatically, her eyes bright with glee. “But you’re his sister, so I can trust you. Dalton and I have been seeing each other for a while. Mostly when we’re on the road since we travel together for the games. You understand how it is.” She gives June a knowing look, assuming she’ll recognize why hotel rooms would make secret rendezvous easier.
“Oh!” June exclaims, her eyes popping wide open in surprise. But then her brows furrow. “Why is it against the rules?”
June hasn’t figured it out yet, but I have. Mollie is a Moosette. That’s why she looks vaguely familiar. The cheer team has a signature look, and Mollie’s appearance tonight is fresh off the ice postperformance.
Mollie laughs again, pushing at June’s shoulder like they’re girlfriends teasing each other, not complete strangers in a bar bathroom. “Oh god, he really didn’t say a thing, did he? That boy.” She shakes her head like Dalton’s the most exasperatingly adorable thing she’s ever met in her life. “I’m a Moosette. Strictly off-limits for the players.” She stands extra tall as she says that, throwing her dark hair back over her shoulders, tilting her head, and smirking seductively like she’s completely aware that she’s utterly irresistible. “But if we meet in the offseason and things happen? Well then, who’s to say an established couple can’t be part of the teams?” Mollie winks like she’s found a sneaky way around the rules. No, like they’ve found a way.