Page 80 of Sin Bin

She spares me a small smile as she stuffs tip money into her apron’s pocket. “Yeah, we’re good. Everyone is just on edge because of KingSinBin.”

My heart stutters to a stop. “What doyoumean?”

Carol lifts a shoulder. “Guy apparently hasn’t played so well in years, and he hasn’t even landed himself in the box oncetonight.”

Good for him. Really, goodforhim.

I blink back the sudden stinging of tears. I’m glad he’s doing well. Even if I feel like I might break apart anymoment.

The buzzer announcing the end of the game sounds off on the TV, and I quickly check out the score. Blades win five to two. The camera pans to the Blades hoisting someone up, and to my surprise, it’s Andre. His helmet is off, and he’s laughing so hard that his eyes are nearlyclosed.

“That’s great,” I say out loud. Brilliant. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I think Ineedwine.

Turning on my heel, I head back toward the kitchen. I need to step away from everything, to get back intomygroove, the same way Andre has done for himself in the span of twenty-fourhours.

“You good, Zoe?” my dad asks from behind the grill. The restaurant has closed for the evening, though the bar is still open for another hour, so it’s only him and a few of the dishwasher guys left. Dad sent the servers home thirty minutes ago. “You lookpissed.”

I laugh. “I’mgood,Dad.”

“You sure? Shelby’s not around if you want to tell me how angryyouare.”

“I’m notangry.”

“Sad?”

Yes, sad. I sigh, untying the apron from around my waist and dropping the fabric into the laundry basket. “It’ll be fine, butthanks.”

He rubs his chin. “Have I mentioned how happy I am to have you working with me, kid? Always thought you’d do well here. I know you missyourmom. . . ”

I really do. First thing I did last night was call her and book a flight to visit Detroit next month. I don’t mind Boston, I actually really like it, but I miss my mom’s hugs and herslywit.

“Thanks for giving me a few days off next month so I can see her,” I say. “It means a lottome.”

Looking awkward, Dad comes around the grill, wiping his hands off on a towel. Without giving me a chance to move away, he wraps a hand around my shoulder and pulls me into a hug. “I don’t say this enough, Zoe, but I love you. I wish . . . I wish I had seen you more when you were growing up, but I’m glad to have you here now. Anytime you want to visit your mom is okay with me.” He chucks me under the chin. “Now, don’t look so pissed, kid. It’ll give youwrinkles.”

I laugh. Same old FredMackenzie.

Some things neverchange.

The sound of catcalling from the front of the house catches our attention, and with a single glance, we’re sweeping in to the dining area, expectingafire.

Nofire.

Instead, everyone has their eyes trained on the TV, and the moment I walk in, multiple arms point in my direction before pointing crazily attheTV.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dad mutters, stridingforward.

“Language,” I reply ratheruselessly.

Because the minute I step close to the TV behind the bar,I’mthe one cursing. Oh. My. God. It’s Andre and . . . I clap my hand over my mouth to keep the ridiculous giggles underwraps.

He’s wearing nothing but a speedo—thesamespeedo he wore from theFameinterview—and . . . his nipples are pierced.Bothof them arepierced.

“Take the subtitles off!” someone shouts. “I want to know what the hell he’ssaying!”

Carol fumbles for the remote and does as requested. Then, Andre’s rumbly Canadian accent greets my ears, and my toes curl in my non-slip kitchenshoes.

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