Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“The mom called me a nice man. She didn’t ask for my autograph or anything,” I point out. “How does she know it was me?”
Garrett chuckles. “It’s seriously hilarious that you think hockey players aren’t recognizable. They’re not recognizable to non-hockey fans. But, guess what? Travis’s other mom is a hockey fan. She was in the store when it all went down, and when she came out and saw the video another family had taken, evidently, she lost her mind over the goalie saving her kid. Life imitating art. The art of hockey. Damn, I love it.”
Aubrey’s shoulders relax. “She posted the video then? One of Travis’s moms?”
“And it went viral in no time. Everyone’s calling it The Dev Save. You’re a fucking hero meme,” Garrett says, and I can picture him with his feet up on his desk. “Also, I need to apologize.”
We all look at each other like what’s Garrett talking about now?
“Why?” Ledger asks carefully.
“I should have had you three do this sooner, what I’m about to ask you,” Garrett says apologetically. “But now’s as good a time as any. Remember when I said if any fans spotted you on this trip it’d be a good thing that the three of you are friends?”
I wince a little from the reminder. He said that during golf. We were friends with Aubrey then. Now we’re a little more.
“Right,” I say tentatively, letting Garrett steer this convo.
“So, what do you want us to do?” Ledger asks, and I can hear the hesitation in his voice too.
“I’m calling it The Garrett Save,” our agent says. Then he gives us an assignment.
An hour later, we’re standing in front of the Deception Pass Bridge in the ultimate tourist photo, the three of us smiling for the camera in a selfie ordered up by our agent.
On the surface, we look happy. But everything feels off. When I’m done playing shutterbug, I show Aubrey the pic, trying to shove aside the weird feelings.
“We look…friendly,” she says, her tone a little worried. But I’m not able to deal with it since I’ve got to get this shot to G-man so he can get in front of any potential double-honeymoon stories.
“Should I send it?” she asks.
“Yes,” I grit out.
After she hits send, we trudge to the car.
As I reach the rental, Garrett pings me with a text, showing that he’s already posted it on his social feed, along with the caption—One guy broke my sister’s heart, so I sent my two buffest players to make sure no one gets that close to her again.
It feels like a lie.
Because we did lie to Garrett. I can’t shake the gloom descending on me.
I get back into the car, shutting the door a little harder than I should. We’re all a little quiet on the drive. I feel like I just sobered up. Too bad I was really enjoying being tipsy in the room.
After a few minutes, Aubrey points out the window at a mountain peak we’re passing. “That’s pretty.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
She’s quiet again, and I have nothing to say. What would I say anyway? I’m a big, stinking liar?
“Hey! Do you guys like kayaking?”
That’s random. “I don’t know if it’s forbidden in our contracts,” I answer. Like you’re technically forbidden.
The gloom grows thicker, tries to dig roots in my chest.
“If you can, that might be fun,” she says, cheery and bright, like she is, and I wish I knew what to do with her. “Ledger, have you ever gone?” she asks.
He doesn’t answer. When I peer in the rearview, he’s staring out the window. A moody motherfucker too.
But why should I have to be the only one to try to keep up the uncomfortable convo? I don’t want to say that felt too close for comfort. “Ledger?” I prompt.
A few seconds pass before he says, “What?”
“She asked you a question. Have you kayaked?” I ask, annoyed with him too.
“Oh. Yeah. I have,” he says, flatly, letting the topic die.
Aubrey sighs, then fidgets with her cuticles. “I just wonder if…”
But she doesn’t finish the thought either.
When we reach the main traffic light on McDoodle Island, the red light feels like a metaphor.
The sun is setting. Maybe we should just get some chow. “Want to get food? Something from your restaurant list.”
Aubrey lifts her face, then like a goddess calling upon her powers, she turns to me. “Earlier today, you made me admit I didn’t like grape stomping. I need something from you two now. Is this over? Was it a one-night thing? If it was, that’s fine. But I want to know. And I deserve to know.”
Holy shit. That’s hot, the way she’s just laying down the law.
But that’s the problem. Am I allowed to keep acting on all these wild wishes? Plus, this isn’t my decision alone to make. I peer again in the rearview.