Page 27 of Twisted Collide

There are no words to even describe how much I needed that.

She was everything I didn’t know I needed at the exact moment I needed it.

Pure perfection.

A silly goddess,one with a trident, but a goddess, nonetheless.

When she started walking the “tightrope,” I knew she was like no one I had ever met before, and for the first time since my parents died, I felt anything was possible.

Too bad it couldn’t last longer.

Luckily, the memory is mine, and I’ll be replaying it in my mind for a long time.

My phone rings, and I know who it is without even looking at it. By now, Molly has found the little surprise I left for her at her front door.

I grab it from my pocket, swiping the screen to answer it.

“What the hell did you do?” Her high-pitched voice is a bit much after last night, but I understand that she’s excited, so I’ll give her a pass for practically blowing out my eardrum.

“You’ll have to be more specific?”

“Don’t be an ass. You know what I’m talking about. The ticket. The trip.”

“No one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“It’s too much, Dane.” A crashing sound echoes through the phone. “Shit. Sorry. I’m fine, just dropped my cell.” Her voice sounds far off, and I can’t help but laugh despite the pain it causes me in my hungover state.

“You good?”

“Yeah, sorry. But seriously, Dane, this is too much.”

“Nothing is enough for all you do for me.” I halt my steps, not ready to walk into the arena yet.

“But this is over a month. I don’t get back until the first game of the season. How will you live?”

That’s my sister, always cutting right to the chase. “Do you think I’m totally helpless?”

“Yes.”

“Ouch, I’m wounded.” I’m not. She’s right. I am helpless, but I won’t admit that, or she may actually not go.

“No, you’re not. You know it’s true.”

She has me there.

“Fine. I am, but I promise I’ll be okay.”

Molly takes a deep sigh. “If you say so, but just in case, I’m going to call a temp agency. I love you, Dane. I wish—”

“Listen, Mol, I have to go. Coach called a meeting, but text me when you get to the airport.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hang up the phone, then swing open the door and walk into our practice facilities. I head in the direction of where Coach said to meet.

When I arrive, I’m not the first one there.

Actually, by the crowd formed in the middle of the room, I’m most likely the last.

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