Page 71 of The Overtime Kiss

“And we’ve seen a lot,” Luna adds, since we’ve spent plenty of time watching skating competitions over the years. Not to mention, my first-ever crush was on a figure skater—Allison Marchand.She was eighteen when I was twelve and I could not stop watching her in the Olympics. I could blame my mom and grandmother for their obsession with figure skating, but really I was obsessed too.

“We have,” I agree, before pointing toward the stairs. “All right, skater queen, let’s get going to school.”

“And then we get to trick-or-treat tonight,” Luna cheers.

“As if you need any more sugar,” I grumble.

“Dad, you canneverhave enough candy,” Parker pipes up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

We head to the garage, and—because I’m a glutton for punishment—I steal a glance at Sabrina’s door. Even though I know she’s at the rink for an early lesson.

Maybe she’ll post another video.

The thought excites me more than it should.

As I load the kids into the car, I tell myself I won’t check. Iwon’t.

Hell, I haven’t looked at her socials in over a week. I’m trying to break the habit of wanting her.

This is what I planned, right? To move on.

But I picture her skating the whole time I drive my kids to school. I’m chatting with them about their teachers and friends while my mind is taunting me with images of Sabrina gliding across the ice, the spotlight on her alone, one leg extended, arms out wide, and a polished, determined smile on her beautiful face. The pull to check her feed growsstronger all morning as I meet with Corbin and Rowan, catching up with those clowns at the gym.

“Haven’t seen you at the bocce ball court,” Corbin remarks. It’s the first thing he says as I settle in by the free weights.

“Been a little busy with work and shit,” I say. “Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s that thing you do on the ice with blades.”

Corbin bristles. “I get plenty of ice time thank you very much,” he says, as he parks himself on the weight bench.

“Or maybe you’ve been afraid to show your face since the bet we made,” Rowan says, clearly not willing to let me get off that easily. “I’m guessing you lost,” Rowan says.

Oh shit. I pause mid-lift of preacher curls. I fucking forgot that bet—Corbin bet I’d last a week till I was spending too much time with my hand; Rowan bet two days.

Corbin points at me, like my hesitation proves they were right. “Yep! You didn’t even last a week till you…gave in,” he says, then makes an obscene gesture with his fist.

“Pay up,” Rowan says, with a smug smile.

I smirk, shaking my head at these two. “You assume you won.”

“Won what?”

It’s Ford joining us now, setting down his water bottle with stickers of the mountains and the wordsSurprise Themall over it. His mantra.

“We bet on how long he’d hold out,” Corbin supplies, because of course he wants to get my goat.

But the thing is—I’ve been restrained. So damn restrained in the solo department.

I set down the weights. Wiggle my fingers. “Pay up.”

Corbin’s jaw drops. “What the hell?”

My smile widens. “I’ve been such a good boy.”

“No way,” Ford says, then knocks me with a fist. “Impressive restraint.”

“Especially since you’re obsessed with her,” Rowan adds dryly.

And…ouch.

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