Page 116 of A Little Complicated

I let his hand go and give him a mock salute. “Will do.”

36

OPHELIA

Istayed at Archer’s until almost two in the morning. It was fun. Catching up and making plans. He also made me promise to let him drive me home after today’s game, but I’m not complaining. It’s not like I can catch a ride with Maverick or anything, not when all our families will be here.

Today is going to be interesting. Finley’s coming into town, along with everyone else. Well, everyone except Dylan because she has an eye appointment.Lame.To be fair, she was bummed too. She wanted to be here to support the boys’ first game, even if it isn’t an official one. The girl loves hockey as much as I do, but thanks to a puck to the head when she was little, she doesn’t play anymore, and if she puts her appointment off, she’ll wind up with a few nasty migraines. No one wants that.

She’ll be here soon, though, and I’m excited to see Finley. I’ve missed her more than she knows. The guys left for the game an hour ago, but I decided to stay at my place so Finley and I could drive over together. As I flip through the upcoming class schedule I already memorized, a loud knock echoes from the front door.

Practically skipping to it, I yank the door open and gush, “You’re here!”

“You really think I’d miss my brother’s first game?” Finley pulls me into a quick hug. “AndI get a chance to hit on Griffin and make him uncomfortable, so win-win.”

When she lets me go, I challenge, “And what does your boyfriend think about you hitting on someone who isn’t him?”

She waves me off. “Dude. Drew has nothing to worry about. And Griffin is…Griffin. He’s fun to tease, but only because it pisses Everett off. Can you imagine anything actually happening between us?” She snorts. “Yeah, not likely.” Her brows dip as her gray-blue eyes trail down my body. “Wait. Is this what you’re wearing?”

I look down at my black and red LAU T-shirt with a hawk along the front and shrug. “Something wrong with it?”

“Where’s Archer’s number?” She grabs my arm, spinning me around. “Yup. Just what I thought. Nowhere.”

“So?”

“So, he might not be your boyfriend anymore—which everyone is still in the dark about, by the way, so you’re welcome—but he’s still your best friend. Who else are you going to support out there?”

I open my mouth to answer and close it just as quickly. It’s not like I can say Maverick. But guys can get weird about jerseys, especially when Maverick made me promise I’d only wear his number before he broke up with me on prom night. He might not even remember asking me to make the promise, but still. The idea of wearing Archer’s feels like a betrayal.

But is it?

Honestly, I have no idea.

“Exactly,” Finley smirks as if my silence proves her point. “It’s a good thing I came prepared. Come on.” Grabbing my arm, she tugs me inside my place and heads straight for the bathroom with her massive purse dangling from her shoulder. She gets right to work.

* * *

The arena is packed.I shouldn’t be surprised. LAU’s hockey team is practically royalty at this point. It’s been this way since forever, even before my father and his friends were on the roster.

Everyone’s here to show their support. My parents. My younger sister, Tatum. The twins’ parents, Henry and Mia. Not to mention Uncle Colt and Aunt Ashlyn. They’re here to cheer for Griffin and check on Jaxon. Oh, and let’s not forget Uncle Mack and Aunt Kate who are here to support Everett. Yup. The place is packed. It would’ve been a full house no matter what, but as soon as a few reporters announced the possible appearance of my dad and his friends to support their kids at today’s game, the tickets sold out almost immediately. My familial alumni even received a standing ovation after the national anthem was performed.

And their wives wonder why they have such big heads.

With a deep breath, I attempt to stop my knee from bouncing and smooth out the wrinkles in my jersey. Well,technically,it’s mine, but the number scrawled across the front and back in red and black ink belongs to Archer. His name is plastered along my shoulder blades, and his number adorns my cheek, thanks to Finley’s face-painting skills. When my mom saw her handiwork, she full-on applauded. Not because she doesn’t support my relationship with Archer, but because she’s a sucker for an excellent face-paint job and, apparently, Finley’s handiwork earned her stamp of approval. It feels all kinds of weird, though. They don’t know I broke up with Archer. I almost forgot I hadn’t told my mom. I haven’t told anyone. Archer wanted to wait a little while, hoping if we could prove nothing really changed, we’d save ourselves from hearing I told you so from everyone.

But that was before I started hooking up with Maverick again.

Now it just feels…wrong.

I need to have a chat with Archer about it. And soon.

However, if I wanted to prove I don’t belong to Maverick Buchanan, I’m pretty sure the face paint and jersey are doing a bang-up job.

Wearing Archer’s number when both Buchanan twins are on the ice makes me feel like I’m betraying Maverick somehow, even when he knows I’m still close with his brother. So it’s fine.

Right?

“Come on,” Mom prods from beside me. “Stand up so you can see the ice. You, too, Tatum.”

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