Page 120 of The Overtime Kiss

“What did she say?” I ask, trying to focus on the conversation.

“She said she’s not surprised.” He exhales, a wry twist to his lips. “My brother and sister teased me about my crush before you even started. But my mom also said I shouldn’t stand in the way of you being happy.”

My heart sinks a little.

I get it. Truly, I do.

And he’s not standing in the way of my happiness. He’s making me happy. But he’s also making it clear—that this thing between us is justthis. And it’s not ever going to be something else.

And that’s fine by me.

Isn’t it?

I have plans for myself. A life I’m rebuilding. A business I’m growing. And I’m doing it all alone—with no family to support me. Just friends, like Trevyn and Leighton, Isla and Skylar. Friends who are like family.

But I can’t mistake Tyler’s family for my own.

They belong to him.

I don’t belong to anyone.

The next morning, he goes with me and the kids to pick up a kitten at Little Friends. All at once, four people fall in love at the same time with a two-pound black-and-white creature with a pink nose, white paws, and the loudest meow in the world.

Inside the shelter, Tyler reaches into the kennel through the grates and scratches the little critter’s ears. “Hey, Drama,” he says to the tiny thing. “We’re going to take care of you till you find a family.”

We’re.

This kitten was never just mine, and that’s more than okay with me.

Even though as we drive home, a dark thought flits through my mind—am I getting too comfortable with my life here with them?

29

WHISKERS AND KISSES

Tyler

Show me a hockey player who doesn’t know his rating, and I’ll show you a liar. We know that shit cold.

I know this season is much better than my last one. Two months in, my ice time is higher, my shot blocks have improved, and my penalty minutes have gone down.

This is what I wanted. To have a great season in my eleventh year in the pros. To line up a solid final contract. To be able to provide for my kids for the rest of their lives, no matter what hockey throws my way.

And I’m managing it. While also managing a—how shall we say—unconventionalrelationship with a woman who lives with me.

A woman who, somehow, has got me hooked on a tiny little two-pound creature a little more than a week into fostering.

Before I left the house for an afternoon game, I said goodbye to Drama, like I do every time I leave these days. Butnow, as I hop off the exercise bike at the arena and make my way to the locker room, I fire off a text to Sabrina to check in on the kitten.

Tyler: How is the cutie?

Sabrina: Well, I’m at the rink so I wouldn’t know.

Tyler: Should I have the neighbor check on her? My mom? Harvey?

Sabrina: She’s a cat. She’s fine.

Tyler: She’s a kitten.

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