Page 28 of These Pucking Boys: Part Two

My heart does a backflip inside my chest. The way my boys take care of me makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

“Thank you. I hope I won’t be long.”

I get out of the car, and Lavinia, Katrina’s oldest daughter, waves at me. “Hi, June!”

I wave back. “Hi!”

Her attention immediately returns to her friends, and I continue my trek to the front door. Katrina, who must have been on the lookout, opens the door before I have the chance to ring the bell.

“How is she?” I ask.

“Quiet. She’s in the living room, watching TV.” Her gaze travels past my shoulder. “That’s not your car.”

My face becomes hot. “No. Lachy drove me.”

She looks at me again, her eyes round as saucers. “You’re saying you have a hot hockey player sitting inside that car?”

“Notahockey player—three. They all wanted to come.”

“And you’re making them wait in the car?” Her voice rises in pitch.

Guilt pierces my chest. “I... they offered. And how am I going to explain their presence to April? I don’t even know why she’s here.”

“Oh, honey. I’m not judging.”

“I’m sorry. I was just projecting my guilt. I do feel bad.”

“Don’t. They offered to come with you and wait in the car. Besides... you can thank them later.” She wiggles her brows up and down.

I smile. “Definitely.”

Katrina opens the door wider for me and, from the entry foyer, I can see April on the couch, holding a pillow against her chest. Her blonde hair is tied in a low ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The low-key appearance isn’t her style, which raises several red flags.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Katrina tells me.

“Thank you.” I veer for the TV room and stop in April’s line of sight. “Hey, April.”

“June!” She jumps from the couch and comes running to hug me tight. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

I hug her back for as long as she needs. When she finally steps back, she’s crying. “What’s wrong, honey? Why did you come to LA? Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?”

She wipes her wet cheeks. “No. They don’t know. Please don’t tell them yet.”

My brows furrow. “I have to tell them. They’ll be worried sick.”

“They won’t. They think I’m at Jenny’s.”

“You have school tomorrow.”

“I’ll call in sick.” She returns to the couch and grabs the pillow again.

Shit. April is spoiled, but she’s a straight A student. Whatever she’s going through is serious if she’s planning on skipping school. I sit next to her and take her hand. “What’s going on, April? Why did you come to LA?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Itdoesmatter. You came to see me for a reason, right? Well, I’m here. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

She turns to me, and her blue eyes are brighter thanks to all the unshed tears. “You have to promise me you won’t judge me.”

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