Page 76 of The Perfect Snipe

Mason and Stella are jumping up and down, waving their arms like they're trying to guide in a plane. My parents are there too, my dad giving me the thumbs up as my mom claps properly as if she’s at the Academy Awards instead of a hockey game.

And there's my brother, who flew in from London for this. He's sitting as far from our mother as physically possible while still being in the same row, but the important thing is he's here.

And right in the middle is Cat, her face split in a grin so wide it looks painful. She's wearing my jersey too, and something about seeing her in it makes my chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with the game we just played.

Wyatt sidles up to me, draping an arm over my shoulders. "Damn, Sparkles. You’ve got the biggest cheering squad I've ever seen. Your girlfriend really went all out with the jerseys, huh?"

Girlfriend.

I smile because I don’t think I ever want to stop hearing Cat referred to that way.

I snort as I wave to my family. "Yeah, well, Cat and Winston wanted to stir the pot with my mother."

Wyatt raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "What? My fiancée didn’t tell me any of this, so spill it."

"My mother wanted Cat and Stella to wear custom jackets she had ordered. Then made some snooty comment about jersey material being beneath them or some bullshit. So, my girlfriend came up with this plan for everyone to wear regular jerseys with my name and number. When I told Winston about it—because Mom wouldn't stop complaining—he loved the idea. Said it wasdelightfully plebeianor some shit."

Wyatt claps me on the back, grinning. "Shit, Sparkles. Look at you all smitten. Better watch out before we become extended family.”

My heart thuds hard, but in a good way. Even so, I want to take things slow. “Don’t go giving the girls any ideas, Virgin.”

“Keep calling me that and I may start dropping hints about a double wedding. I’m sure Nora and Cat wouldloveit.”

We may have just won an important game, but right this second, I'm seriously contemplating if I could get away with murdering my best friend.

As we make our way off the ice and toward the locker room, the reality of what we've just accomplished starts to sink in. We've won the round and we're moving on to the next. For a brand-new team that most people wrote off at the start of the season, this is huge.

It’s also just the beginning. We’ve got more games to win, but right now with my team at my back and my family by my side, I feel something I haven't felt in a long time.

I feel invincible.

Chapter 32

Cat

I peer over the edge of the wicker basket, my stomach doing a weird flip-flop thing. The Connecticut landscape spreads out below us like a patchwork quilt, all rolling hills and tiny houses that look like they belong in a model train set. "Holy shit, we're high."

Leo chuckles behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. The warmth of his body against my back is a stark contrast to the cool air whipping around us. "Having second thoughts about agreeing to this?"

I elbow him lightly in the ribs, trying to play it cool. "Please. It'll take more than a glorified picnic basket to scare me."

Lies. All lies.

My knuckles are white from gripping the sides of the basket so tight, and I'm pretty sure I left fingernail marks in the wicker. I glance over at the pilot, who's calmly adjusting something on the burner.

How is he so chill? We're floating in a freaking basket, thousands of feet up, with only hot air keeping us from plummeting to our deaths. Maybe I should've suggested a day trip to France when Leo brought up this idea. At least planes have seatbelts.

But I have to admit, the view is absolutely insane. It's like someone took an Instagram filter and slapped it on the whole world. Everything looks soft and dreamy, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

And Leo?

He's smiling and relaxed in a way I haven't seen in weeks.

I got worried for a moment during the second round of playoffs. The Minotaurs went to game six, and the tension in the house was palpable. Even at Nora's place, it felt like everyone was on eggshells.

Let's just say, during that round, we went out with the kids. A lot. Like, "Sorry about your dad's mood swings, let's go get ice cream for the fifth time this week" a lot.

And while the team lost in game six, their season ending, Leo actually rebounded faster than I expected. I prepared myself for weeks of brooding and ESPN reruns, but after a few days of grumbling and being stoic, he moved on.

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