Page 44 of Ice Dance Hockey

“He’s okay and I was just escaping,” Jack admits. “Now open.”

“In that case, I want a turn with him. I haven’t held Stan at all,” Ari says.

“All right,” Jack says, not wanting to give him up, acting like it’s already the end of summer and he hasn’t had enough time with the babe. He kisses Stan’s head and hands him over.

“Go ahead, Lo. Baby wars could go on all night,” Merc says.

He’s been passed around like a hockey puck all night. I’m going to take the baby soon if it doesn’t stop and when I do, no one’s taking him from me. I’ve got proof that I bite.

In the first bag is a ticket to Metallica. “I was able to get box seats. They’ll be a whole bunch of us and it’s an end-of-the-summer thing. If you want to invite anyone, there’s room,” Mercy says.

Does he mean Rhett?

Whatever. Fucking Metallica. The last two times they were in Canada, I couldn’t afford tickets. This is … fuck. I might cry. “This is, wow, thanks, Merc.”

“Open the other one,” he demands.

It’s a new pair of Ridell skates, the more spendy pair. “We noticed that you could use a new pair. Hope you don’t mind. If the sizing isn’t right, we’ve got the receipt?—”

I’m already out of my seat, wrapping my arms around him. “They’re perfect. They should fit.” You have to wear new skates in any way.

“Sorry for being an overbearing asshole in the kitchen. If you really want to go out tonight, fuck Rhett. I’m just?—”

I look up at him, not bothering to hide the tears. “An overbearing asshole? Yeah, I know. You were right, though.” About both things. Scott is probably a fuck boy and Rhett would have pulled out the whole discretion lecture if he thought I was going to a nightclub for my birthday.

“Of course, I’m right.”

And protective of me, which is endearing.

Loud voices in the kitchen pull us away from our moment. A bickering match between Casey, Ari, and Dash about who’s winning the cup this year. I don’t know how that happened. We weren’t anywhere near the topic of hockey. Even the captain weighs in his two cents. This family and hockey.

But I’m an honorary member now and my fake boyfriend is an NHL superstar. “Which team should I be cheering for?” I ask them.

That starts the kind of trouble I predicted it would. There’s a chorus ofVancouver Orcas, duh, even from Jack who’ll probably change his mind once he gets into the season—I saw how competitive he was on the ice with Rhett.

“And whatever you do, kid, you don’t cheer for Boston. Ever,” Casey says.

“What’s wrong with Boston?”

Merc laughs. “You don’t know the can of worms you just opened. We might be here until your next birthday.”

Casey puts his arm around me. “I’m somewhat of an expert on what’s wrong with Boston. Allow me to invite you to my TEDtalk.”

Chapter9

Pretty Logan

Rhett

Iexpect Logan to do something to the outfit I sent him or for Mercy to flip out about it. Neither happens. Mercy seems to find the long, fitted black dress and tall boots acceptable. It’s off the shoulder, but he can’t see that underneath the long black jacket with the tall collar.

He’s wearing makeup again, but this time subtler—mascara and a little powder. I arrived with a giant bouquet of flowers, unsure as to whether he’d like them, and my stomach was sent on an exhilarating roller coaster ride. I’m not prone to doing things unless I’m sure, absolutely certain they’ll work out, but I’ve entered unwritten territory. Plus, it doesn’t matter with Logan. He’s not my real boyfriend. I can experiment.

I got a lip bite and a smile out of him for the flowers. Also, a headshake.

“This bouquet is so large it’s preposterous.”

I shrugged. “It’s your birthday.” I vowed to see what else would make him bite his lip like that.

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