“It’s like you really are my triplet. You read my mind almost as much as JD does.”
“What can I say?” She lifts a shoulder. “It’s a gift.”
No respect. Madz is over here laughing at my expense, not at all concerned I’m about to get my ass kicked. Maybe I can convince Gage his pregnant wife shouldn’t be hitting people in her condition, but with my luck he’ll just be enlisted in doling out my punishment. Hell hath no fury like a best friend kept in the dark.
Yoshi!
Speak of the devil. I’m pretty sure I know who that text is from.
I chuck the remnants of my broken mug in the trash, wipe down the mess, and walk around the counter to drop a kiss on Maddey’s head. “Gotta go.”
“Tell Cali I need to talk to him about something later,” she calls out as I grab my gear bag.
Cali may not be my favorite person after last night, but now I’m looking forward to seeing him. I know exactly what Maddey wants him for.
Another one bites the dust.
“You coming to the game tonight?”
“Thinking about it.”
With a wave, I exit my apartment to find Cali already waiting for me in the hall, twirling his keyring around his finger. Living in the same building, we switch off which one of us drives the forty minutes to the Storm practice facility in Tarrytown.
“Well if it isn’t our resident Romeo. And how are we this fine morning? Balls a little blue maybe?”
I flip him the bird, to which he only chuckles.
Hitting the button for the building’s private underground lot, I turn and say, “Oh, before I forget.” It’s my turn to chuckle, knowing I’m about to drop a bomb on the smartass. “Madz wanted me to tell you she needs to talk to you later.” I let the threat—yes, threat—hang there for a moment then add, “So don’t make any plans for after the game.”
“Shiiiit. She wants me to get half naked for one of her covers, doesn’t she?”
“Probably.” Definitely.
I ignore him for a minute to check my phone and wince when I thumb open the message.
ALPHABET SOUP: *GIF of Ricky Ricardo saying, “Lucy, you got some ’splainin’ to do!”*
THE BIG HAMMER: Shit. You need to stop hanging out with Sammy.
ALPHABET SOUP: And YOU have to STOP telling my brother things instead of me.
THE BIG HAMMER: I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.
ALPHABET SOUP: Yeah you will.
“Eh.” Cali slips on a pair of aviators, pulling out from the underground garage, bringing my attention back to him. “I guess there are worse things than having a gorgeous woman hang all over me for pictures. Maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll be your fine-ass sister as my partner.”
“First off.” I level him with my fiercest enforcer look, the one generally reserved for Nate Bishop. “Too far. JD is off limits.”
“You know I joke.” His hands lift from the steering wheel in surrender.
“It’s the only thing keeping me from shoving a hockey stick up your ass right now.”
He laughs, not intimidated at all.
My sister can take care of herself. Hell, there are very few people—male or female—more respected than her and Skye in the sports industry. That said, my sister is very beautiful—I mean, how could she not be when sharing genetics with me?—so her presence in the locker rooms naturally comes with talk. We’ve had each other’s back since the womb, and those protective instincts are imprinted on my soul.
“I take it by the way you and Broadway were trying to check each other for strep the date went good?”
Why am I not surprised he’s already given Mels a nickname?
I play back all the highlights from last night: the dinner, the easy conversation, the way my girl’s dark eyes sparkled when she opened the Mr. Potato Head I got her, and of course, the kiss.
Why don’t I have a diary? The details of it need to be recorded in full-on glitter pen glory. I wonder if Jake’s younger sister Carlee has one. She’s nine, so she might. Sure, it is probably filled with all sorts of stuff about my younger brother Sean, but I can ignore that while flipping through for a blank page to borrow. Girl loves me; I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.
I’ve never been more grateful to be pulling onto the campus that houses our practice facility.
I have a feeling Cali’s razzing is only the start of what I’ll be facing today.
Waking up from my pre-game nap—the best part of my job, if you ask me. I mean, who doesn’t love naps?—I’m not at all surprised to find JD working on an iPad in one of the massage chairs in the living room, an episode of How I Met Your Mother on the TV, volume on low.
“Morning, sunshine.” She doesn’t even look up from her work.
“Hey, wombmate.” I grab a protein shake and plop onto the couch adjacent to her. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I honestly expected you to be here before my nap.”
“I wanted to get the girls settled with Mom first.”
“I take it you’re coming to the game tonight?”
“Yup. Already worked out all the details with Madz and the others.”
I choke, almost suffocating from my protein shake going down the wrong pipe. Fuck my life.
“So…” The smile that blooms on her face doesn’t do anything to soothe my nerves, because it’s not a smile—it’s a warning, one I’ve learned to heed in my twenty-five years. “Do we get to meet your girlfriend tonight?”
“Nope.” I look toward the TV to keep her from picking up on the lie.
There is not one person—not even my mother—who has had my back like my twin. I call her my other half for a reason. But in the same breath, there isn’t another soul more willing to slap me with reality when needed.
If I make a mistake during a game, she’s not afraid to tell me how I fucked up. It’s not in a mean way, but to help improve my play on the ice. Ryan and I may be the professional hockey players in the family, but JD has just as much ice in her veins, if not more.
It’s why I don’t want her anywhere near the woman I’m still desperately trying to impress. I need to keep Mels as far away from JD’s crazy couch coaching as possible.
“Bullshit.” The iPad makes a slap as it’s tossed onto the extended footrest. Eyes flashing golden fire turn my way. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Jason Richard.”
“Ouch.” I mime a hit to the chest. “Low blow, Jordan Danielle. Real low blow.”
“Whatever.” She waves me off. “Now tell me why I’m not meeting her. Scared?”
“Hell yeah I’m scared.”
She laughs—in my face.
“Cute, Jase.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Who me?” A hand goes to her chest, a mocking look of offense on her face. “I would never.”
“Smartass.”
She shrugs.
“Look.” I shift forward, resting my elbows on my knees, letting her read how serious this is. “This isn’t like when Madz and Ry started dating. Melody doesn’t just know hockey, she follows it. So, whereas most of your couch coaching comments went right over Maddey’s head, they won’t with her.”