Page 48 of The Rebound Plan

Still, the girls all put our hands up. My hand is shaking.

“Tomorrow,” Russ says. “Maybe while we’re skating?”

CHAPTER 18

RUSS

There is zero fucking chance I’m watching a rom com with Shannon, her husband, my fake girlfriend, and an audience of my teammates and their better halves.

Fuck. That. Noise.

It’s bad enough that Emery is now on a mission to performatively prove to Max that I’m in love with her or something like that. I want to drag her aside and stage a break-up. Or at the very least, just tell her to cut it out.

It feels like this weekend is happening in slow motion around me, and I hate the feeling of not being in control.

So I’m taking control.

Emery growls and thumps me on the chest as I make the pronouncement that we’re watching Shoresy. I spin her around and point her to the bar cart. “You’re in charge of the cocktails tonight, kiddo.”

She stomps to the fridge and grabs a bottle of beer. “Voila. Your Sudbury Special, sir. And I’m not skating with you guys tomorrow, becauseCutting Edgetakes priority.”

I put a deliberate amount of chill on my response. “That’s fine.”

She doesn’t pick up on the vibe, though, and when we all pile onto the couches in the viewing room again, she manages to arrange everyone in the blink of an eye so we’re sitting next to Shannon and Max.

The massive couch still isn’t big enough for the four of us.

I shift in my seat as the episode starts.

Immediately, the room starts laughing along as our favourite minor league hockey player chirps his way through reffing a junior game.

Shannon is as into it as anyone else. It’s nice to watch her laugh. And it’s hard to pretend not to watch her.

Emery pats my knee and leans against me.Pretend with me instead,she projects.

I don’t want to, but I slide my arm over her shoulder, anyway—and my knuckles graze Shannon’s shoulder on the other side.

She jolts, and then holds still, the soft muscle now firm against the back of my fingers. But she doesn’t pull away.

I flex my hand, straightening out my fingers. Touching her from knuckles to fingertips. Warmth pours up my arm as she laughs with the next joke, shaking gently.

Grinning, I relax.

And when Shoresy talks about liking mature women, Shannon claps her hands and pushes her elbow into Emery, clearly delighted.

When he says he’ll be so good to the woman he’s pursuing, she turns pink and bites her lower lip.

Fucking adorable.

She deserves a man who will pull her close and repeat the line for her enjoyment.

What she gets, instead, is a pissed-off husband who starts whining about minor league players as if Shoresy is some real person who couldn’t make it to the NHL, and not the figment of a clever writer’s imagination.

Beside me, Emery shakes her head a little, then pushes herself off the couch. “Anyone want a beer?”

She counts hands, then disappears.

My arm, no longer having an Emery to rest on, is back on my end of the couch, and a sharp awareness of the space between me and Shannon prickles as the characters on the show argue about being less slutty in order to give their team everything they have for the rest of the season.

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