Page 85 of The Trophy

“Lake,” Lena says. “I don’t want to put you in a tough spot if you don’t feel like it, but you could borrow one of my bikinis. I think we should be roughly the same size and I have a couple of brand new ones I got in town at the end of season sale at one of the shops on the pier.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I don’t want to take one of your bikinis, if?—”

“I’m positive. I’m going to come with you guys, but I can’t really get in the water with this boot,” she says, pointing at her soft cast.

So just like that, I find myself in a borrowed, tiny emerald green string bikini, stepping on the warm sand of the beach right off the deck of Cash’s house.

“Hey,” Cash yells with a hand cupped near his mouth to make sure his voice carries. “You know the rule. No getting into the water without an adult by your side.”

“Yes, we know.” Conor nods right before letting go of his big brother’s hand and running after his twin sister who’s taken off toward the calm sea water.

“Let’s go, before Carolina decides she’s an adult,” Cash chuckles, his eyes set on his little sister, who’s waiting impatiently right where the waves lap at the fine sand. “I swear that kid has the attention span of a fruit fly and no patience whatsoever.”

“That can be said for every three-year-old, honey,” Lena says. “You were exactly like her and just as smart and articulate. Your father and I made, pretty, intelligent babies.”

The afternoon flies by as we play in the water, teaching Cash’s siblings how to float on their backs and getting them to swim in the shallows.

If I didn’t already like Cash more and more with every hurdle we overcome, seeing how patient and loving he is with his brother and sister makes me fall for him a little more.

It wouldn’t be hard to imagine him teaching our own children how to swim or how to play hockey one day.

The thought is heartwarming and scary at the same time; with the complications of falling for three guys and the unknown about where they’ll end up playing after school, I feel like the odds are stacked against us.

“Hey baby,” Cash surrounds me with his strong arms from behind. “Penny for your thoughts?”

I crane my neck, twisting my head to look at him. “I was just thinking that I’m hungry and I’m in desperate need of a shower. I have sands in places where I didn’t know you could get sand,” I say, not wanting to put a dampener on the relaxed, happy mood of the last few hours.

“Do you mind if I see if Mom needs anything and then we can decide if we want to order in or go out for dinner? We should get back to campus tonight anyway. I have morning skate tomorrow and a class straight after.”

I’m about to tell him that I don’t mind either way, as long as I get to wash off the sand and that we have dinner together, but Lena intervenes.

“The world’s your oyster, guys,” she winks. “Enid is coming to pick me and the twins up to take us out for ice cream. Of course you’re welcome to join us; if not, we’ll be at least a couple of hours, since the ice cream parlor is right next to the movie theater and they’re showing a double feature of classic Disney movies tonight. There’s no way we won’t be talked into going. I’ll even wait until we get back to throw Conor and Carolina in the shower. Enid told them about the movies earlier and there’s no way I’m going to keep them still long enough to wash all the sand away.”

“Might as well wait,” Cash chuckles. “The last time I took those two out for ice cream, it was a full body experience.”

Lena agrees. “Yup. Conor practically bathed himself in his sundae.”

We carry all our beach towels back to the house, where a beautiful brunette is waiting for Lena and the twins.

Cash guides me up the stairs and into his room and before we know it, the front door closes behind his family and the house is suddenly silent.

Cash’s room is exactly the way I imagined it; masculine, with dark wood furniture, blue and gray bedding and curtains. Hockey trophies and medals fill the entirety of a shelf that takes most of the wall near Cash’s desk.

“You won so much stuff,” I comment, leaning over to read the small inscription on a brass trophy that represents a hockey player.

“They aren’t all mine,” Cash explains. “Some of those belong to my dad.”

He’s right. “You were both state champions with your high school teams,” I observe.

“Yeah. His senior year and my junior year. I’m glad we won that last trophy together,” he says.

I turn to look at him, so tall and handsome, standing against the closed door of his bedroom.

He’s looking at me, his gray eyes twinkling with barely repressed mischief, the corner of his lips curled up in that barely there smile that always causes my pulse to quicken.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he shrugs, his broad, muscular shoulders attracting my attention. “I was just thinking that we’re alone. At last.”

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