Page 105 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

“Wherever life takes you, we’ll be right there with you,” Haydn said. “No matter what.”

I let their words settle on me like layers of paint. A highlight here, a shade there, another stroke for depth, and I felt the more dimensional image of myself forming.

They loved me whether I was successful or floundering. Whether I wanted to believe the best in someone who didn’t deserve it or set healthier boundaries. Whether my schemes worked out the way I intended or imploded in all our faces.

They loved me without condition. And even more, they believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. For some reason, I hadn’t allowed myself to really trust that until now.

“So no more secrets?” Haydn asked.

I blew my nose in a loud, wet fashion. “No more secrets,” I agreed. “Oh, except one. Jules. I actually do remember painting on your white shoes.”

Jules huffed and pointed his finger at me accusingly. “I knew it!”

“I’m sorry, but also not actually sorry. They turned out cute.”

“No teenage boy wants red and pink kiss lips all over his shoes!” He stared me down hard. “You owe me a painting to put up in my office for that.”

“I have the perfect idea for one,” I said, thinking of my adorable elephant dancing at the underwater masquerade. A little whimsy would do my too-serious brother some good.

“Anything else?” Haydn asked.

I shook my head, and felt like I could finally really relax. I should have had this discussion with my brothers a long time ago. “Who wants to watch a movie?”

The boys exchanged a glance, and Haydn said slowly, “What movie are you thinking?”

Chapter 41

Dylan

We’d hopped in Gage’sSUV and he drove us straight to the rink for my meeting. They weren’t invited but planned on staying in the lobby to hear what happened afterward. Either to offer condolences if I was kicked off the team or celebrations if I wasn’t.

We arrived at the rink too quickly, and I went upstairs, straightening my clothes as I walked. I’d changed into a nicer pair of pants and button-up shirt when we were at the airport in Seattle this morning. It had been nearly twenty-four hours of travel (with an overnight layover in Seattle) to get here just in the nick of time for this meeting.

But, unlike last time I met with everyone in this room, I felt calm. If there was anyone I was angry at, it was whoever lied about Rosie and threw her under the bus like that.

The team was going to do what they wanted—and I’d be upset, yes. I didn’t want to leave the Peaks, but the thought of playing with another team didn’t trigger a desire to rage skate myself into oblivion. It mostly made me sad.

Admins paused as I walked down the hallway passed them, and I nodded in hello as they caught my eye. I didn’t stop to talk to anyone, though. It was game time, and I wasn’t going down without a fight.

“We’ll be out here,” Bret said, patting me on the back.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and pushed the door to the conference room open.

It was the same people as before: Mike Jacoby, GM. Coach Perkins, whose grim expression didn’t give me any hope. Gretta, the no-nonsense team lawyer. Ms. Chrissy Lincoln, the team’s media specialist, wearing yet another librarian-esque cardigan. And my agent, Harry, in person this time.

I had a sense of deja vu as I walked to an empty chair and felt everyone’s stares on me. I pulled out my chair and sat.

“Well, Dylan.” Mike crossed one leg over his knee and sat back in the chair, like it was just the two of us on a beach, catching up. Not the pose of a man planning to rip my dream away from me, but I didn’t know him well enough to read his expressions. “Tell me about Winterhaven.”

“It was unexpected.”

“In what way?”

And so I told him.

I told him about getting hit in the face with a broom when I arrived at my new apartment. About the community service shenanigans and Rosie’s help in attempting to rebrand my social media. I told him about therapy and talking to Shiloh’s brother and moving back in with my parents. About the one small-town softball game I played in just to impress a girl and give her team the win she was longing for. And weaved through every story, I told him about Rosie. How she adopted the ugliest cat alive, and painted beautiful works of art, and how I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

When I finished my monologue, the room was silent. I’d stared at the Mike the entire time and had nearly forgotten other people were in the room until Harry cleared his throat and said, “We have three other teams interested in him, Mike. What are your plans with Dylan?”

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