Page 71 of Power Play

“Yeah. He’s not my usual type, but seeing how poorly things with the last guy I thought was my type turned out, that’s not a turn off. I’ve seen him in the spice aisle before.”

“And you haven’t said hi to him?”

“Given I feel unloveable half the time, I’m not sure I have the courage to interact with him. But maybe I should try. That’s what my therapist says.”

“That’s my girl.” She slings her arm around me and kisses my cheek. “Any word from douche bag extraordinaire lately?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” I sigh and rest my head on her shoulder. “A text yesterday morning. I ignored it. No use dredging up old stuff, you know?”

“If you want him gone, just say the word. I have people who can take care of it.”

“Take care of it? What, is this a hitman thing?”

“I mean, kind of? A friend of a friend is friends with the President’s daughter, and her bodyguard is a trained sniper. He could make it look like an accident and no one would ask questions.”

“Thank you for looking out for me, but I think I’m going to keep my homicide count at zero for now.” I scour the kitchen, smiling at Connor tossing grapes in Riley’s mouth. “I know Maven is at the Titans game out west, but where the heck is Emmy?”

“Trying to stop Maverick from wearing an inflatable turkey costume. She’s losing that battle.”

“That’s got to be a sight.” I laugh and squeeze her waist. “I’m going to do a lap. I’ll be back.”

The boys all greet me with bright smiles and kisses on the top of my head. Grant pulls me into a video he’s making for social media. Hudson distracts me with a conversation about romance novels that lasts for fifteen minutes. I listen to Ethan complain about a hot dog stand in the arena, trying to look interested but ending up really confused.

When I finally break free from all the mayhem, I wind up in the empty dining room and take a breath. I massage my temples, the phantom ache of pain throbbing across my forehead. When I look up, I gasp at the sight.

“Wow,” I whisper.

A long table arranged with lit candles extends from each end of the room. The white tablecloth is neatly pressed, and a bouquet of beautiful marigolds sits in the middle of the setup.

I’m used to this space being empty, used for mini hockey games at team dinner. There are marks on the walls from the soft pucks the guys fire at each other. A whiteboard next to the door has a score table going, and I see poor Hudson is at the bottom of the leaderboard.

“I was on napkin folding duty,” Liam says from behind me.

I laugh and spin around. He’s leaning against the wall and lookinggood. “You were not.”

“I was. Do you think any of those other knuckleheads could sit still long enough to do this?”

“No. Just you, Liam.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Piper.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” I give him a once-over and quirk a brow. “What the hell is on your socks? Is that an alien?”

“Wow. That’s fucking rude. It’s Pico.”

“Aw.” I move closer and see the socks have the cat’s face printed on them. “Did he get those for you himself?”

“Why do you think I’m so rich? It’s not because I’m a good goalie. It’s because my cat has opposable thumbs.”

“Damn. I’m in the wrong industry.”

“It’s a lucrative market.” Liam stands up straight and towers over me. “You good? You were holding your head a second ago.”

“I’m fine.” I smile brightly at him. “I’ve been under the weather all morning. Worn out, you know? I have a little bit of a headache, but I’m persevering.”

“Do you need?—”

“Thereyou are.” Emmy walks into the dining room, interrupting him. She hugs me tight. “I was worried you got roped into playing video games, and I know how terrible you are atCall of Duty.”

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