Page 37 of The Love You Win

Sure enough, the last photo she posted is one of us. She smiles brightly while I look at her, a faint grin on my lips. I read the caption—Dinner with this guy. Thanks for an unforgettable night, Maddox.—and bark out a laugh. Clever woman. She made it sound like we had some steamy night of passion when in reality, it was unforgettably awful, not unforgettably wonderful. Win for her, and it covers my ass.

“Well?” my sister prompts, her voice ringing with impatience. “Care to explain? After one of her friends tagged you, it blew up. Everyone’s speculating about you two. And about her.”

Shit. I doubt Isla will like that, and I’d bet that lack of a tag was intentional. The only person she wanted to see that photo was her ex, so she could make him eat shit. I wonder if she’s realized two thousand people have already heart-ed it? I scan the comments, grateful that most of them seem kind and curious, but cringe when I see a few from jealous women speculating all sorts of unkind things about Isla.

“Her friends bid on a date with me in this stupid silent auction the Rogues set up. I treated her like shit because I thought she must have been a gold-digging jersey chaser, but actually, she recently went through a bad breakup. Her friends were trying to get her out of her shell. She was unimpressed with my behavior and left before the reporter who was supposed to interview us got to the restaurant. So I bribed her to finish dinner with me. Taking a photo she could use to make her ex jealous was part of the deal.”

My sister is silent for only a moment before she’s cracking up. She’s nearly wheezing, she’s laughing so hard. “Oh. My. God. She’s the GOAT. She totally threw shade only you would recognize while making her ex read it the opposite way. Please tell me you turned it around by the end of the night and did some serious groveling so you can take her out again.”

I clear my throat. “I may have run into her at a bar with the boys the following weekend and they may have dragged her to our booth to hang out. But I don’t think there’s any potential there, Mir. She’s not my biggest fan.”

“Well, make her a fan. I want to meet her.”

“Right. Sure. I’ll get right on that.”

“You better hope Mom doesn’t see this.”

Dammit. Mom. Despite our father walking out on her shortly after Mira was born and leaving her to raise two kids without help or financial support, despite my abysmal track record with women and assertions that I will never date again, Mom still harbors a not-so-secret hope that I’ll find the one. She says I’ve got too much love in my heart not to share it with a good woman.

I think she just wants grandbabies to snuggle since Mira and I are a little too big for that, these days.

“Does mom have a Google alert set up for me too?”

Mira snorts. “Yeah right. As if she’d know how to do something like that.”

“Okay good. If she hears about it, please tell her I’m not dating Isla.”

“Isla, huh? That’s a pretty name.”

“Yep.”

“She’s beautiful. Is she cool?”

“Yeah, she’s cool.” And gorgeous, funny, and full of fire. And she smells like roses and bergamot. And I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth every single time I’ve spoken to her.

Mira laughs. “You like her.”

“What?” How in the hell did she get that out of Yeah, she’s cool?

“Oh, come on, Maddy-Poo. You act like I don’t know you. Are you going to see her again?”

I sigh, then tell her all about our agreement to speak at her school. Mira listens as I recount the night at Skin and Tonic. About my disastrous text message telling her the guys would love if she came to a game. Mira nearly pisses herself, she laughs so hard about that. Still, like the guys, she tells me to stop being an idiot and make a move. I tell her I’ll think about it, then change the topic.

“It’s been a while since you’ve visited. Think you can squeeze some time in for a brother-weekend before the season starts?”

Mira hums. “I’m not sure. Jared and I are taking a trip out to California for a couple of weeks. I’ve got some contacts out there I’d like to pitch in person. But in my downtime, we’ll take a few surfing lessons, drink margaritas on the beach, and fuck all night long in our little rental.”

“Je-sus.” I groan. “I don’t need to know that crap, Mi-Mi.”

“Sorry.” She practically sings the word, so I know she’s not sorry. Not in the slightest. “But I can plan a trip during the season. We’ll schedule it around some home games or something. Then maybe I can meet Isla, because I’m sure you’ll be an item by then.”

I chuckle. My sister, the eternal optimist. It works for her, and it’s helped her get her business off the ground. Because as optimistic as Mira is, she’s just as driven and single-minded. Nothing gets in between her and her goals. We’re a lot alike in that regard. My goals are just more literal than hers. And they involve pucks and nets. “Yeah, I’m sure we will be. Now, tell me about this guy. Is he good to you? Because if he’s not, I’ll bring the boys to Chicago and we’ll take turns kicking his ass.”

“You’re so dramatic. He’s good to me. I wouldn’t have moved in with him if he wasn’t. Do you think I’d put up with anything less?”

She wouldn’t. Our mom made damn sure of that. “Of course not. But I’d be a pretty shit brother if I didn’t offer some vague threat of violence.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

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