Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
"He sent his fucking sister to try to talk me," he says. "She ambushed me in the parking lot the other day, begging me to talk to him."
"Ah." I sit back in my chair. "And you don't want to talk to him?"
"He should have been banned from the game for life." Jordan mutters a curse. "But she doesn't know that. He fed her some bullshit about it being a misunderstanding."
I eye him silently for a long moment. "What's her name?"
"Sutton," he says, his tone soft.
"You like her."
He whips his head around, glaring at me.
I smile gently, not buying the act when I heard the truth in his voice. He has feelings for her. Intense, complicated feelings. "You're allowed to like her, Jordan. Just because you have issues with her brother doesn't mean you have to have issues with her."
"She's his sister."
"There's no rule that says you have to forgive him." I shrug. "That's up to you. But you don't have to punish her for whatever he did."
"She doesn't even know." He resumes pacing. "How the fuck am I supposed to tell her what he did, Lariat?"
"Do you want to talk about what he did?"
"Hell no," he barks. "Not with you."
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want to tell her?"
He shrugs, which makes me smile. He really likes this girl. Interesting.
"Then don't tell her. You can hate him and what he did and still protect his relationship with her. That doesn't mean you're doing it for his sake, Jordan. If they're close, let it be for her sake."
"Yeah," he mumbles after a minute. "Yeah, maybe I can do that."
"Then problem solved."
He grunts, shooting me a look. "You don't suck at this."
"Surprised?"
He holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "I had my doubts after the whole lizard dick, circle jerk fiasco, Lariat. But…you might actually make it around here."
"Might?" I arch a brow at him. "Don't flatter me too hard, Silvestri. I might begin to think you actually like me."
He grins, striding toward the door. "Who me? I don't like anyone."
"Right," I say, chuckling as he disappears into the hall.
Alice pops her head in not even sixty seconds later. "Did I just see Jordan leaving your office?"
"You did."
"Wow," she says, clearly impressed.
"I know, right?"
She laughs softly. "I'm going out to the arena to watch them practice. You want to come?" She waggles her brows at me. "I heard that a certain defenseman is out there."
I glance at the paperwork on my desk and then at her. "Hmm… paperwork or staring at Whatley's ass," I say, pretending to think about it. "Tough call."
"Girl, get your ass out of that chair," she says, cackling.
I bounce up with a grin, tossing my pen down.
"Morning." I lift up on my toes to kiss my dad on the cheek before sliding into the cracked leather booth across from him. This early in the morning, the diner down from the practice arena is mostly empty, but the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon permeates the place, making my stomach growl.
My dad glances up from his phone, his expression softening when his gaze lands on me. "Morning, kid."
I eye him critically, not missing the deep shadows beneath his eyes or the weary lines around his mouth. They had the game against the Bucks last night that went into a second overtime before Archer managed to cinch a win for the team with a backhand shot the opposing goalie didn't see coming.
I have no idea what time they got back into town. Nash texted me from the locker room after the game, but I passed out on him before they made it to the airport.
I woke up to him wrapped around me in my bed this morning, snoring in my ear. He looked every bit as exhausted as my dad. I didn't wake him before slipping out for breakfast. I figured he could use the sleep.
"You look like hammered crap," I tease my dad. "What time did you guys get in?"
"Two."
My eyes widen. "Dad. You could have skipped breakfast!"
"Fuck that," he grunts. "The only time I ever see you outside of work is at breakfast once a week. I'm not missing it to sleep in."
Guilt pricks at me because he isn't wrong. We've barely seen each other in weeks. I spend every waking moment with Nash, carefully avoiding my dad. I've been freaking terrified he'd see the truth written all over my face, and that would be the end of Nash's career. But I've had a lot of time to think since my conversation with Nash last week.
Too much time, perhaps.
I want to be honest with my father about Nash. I hate feeling like I have to hide this big, important part of my life from him. I'm not ashamed of Nash, and I never want him to think I am. Yet, the longer I drag this out, the more I risk making him feel like he's some dirty secret to me, or like our relationship is something I don't value.