Page 49 of Accidentally Checked By My Brother's Best Friend

The puck is the other goalie’s problem, and I’m just a spectator on the opposite end of the ice. Closing my eyes, I settle in for the plane ride home.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ava

Alopsidedgrincrossesmy face, and goosebumps prickle my skin at the deep timbre of Duncan’s voicemail. I leave a message asking if he still needs a ride home.

I’ve missed him these past few days, and having an excuse to see him wasn’t something I wanted to pass up.

My phone dings, and my pulse races, seeing Duncan’s name.

Duncan:Just getting on the plane. Will get back to you in a bit.

Reading his message twice, I assume the generic response likely means he didn’t listen to my message but just wanted to acknowledge my call. I responded with a text letting him know the reason I called.

Me:Sounds good.

I pause a moment before typing the next message.

Me:Do you still need a ride home from the arena?

A rush of energy darts through me, and my heart races. Sliding my phone in the front pocket of my jeans, I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath.

He probably already made arrangements for a ride home. Otherwise, he would’ve asked, right?

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward. What if he didn’t ask because he doesn’t want to see me? Is it possible he hasn’t been thinking about the last time we were together?

Does he regret kissing me? What if I’m making the kiss out to mean something more than it is? Is it possible for someone to kiss a person like that andnothave it mean everything?

Blowing out a deep breath, I pull my bottom lip with my teeth. All of these unanswered questions leave me wishing I knew what Duncan was thinking. How he was feeling. About me.

What if the only one falling is me?

My heart sinks and thuds in my stomach. Rubbing my arms up and down, I work to get rid of the chill that runs through me at the thought of being rejected this time.

“Aunt Ava? Can you braid my hair?” Scarlett’s arms wrap around my waist, hazel eyes smiling at me, and her chin resting on my stomach.

Grateful for the distraction, I run my hands over Scarlett’s hair and grin at her. “Of course I can. What type of braid do you want?”

“Can you do a Dutch braid?” She asks, jumping up and down. “I like the way it looks.”

“You’ll take it out before you go to bed, right? That style usually gives me a headache if I sleep on it.” She shakes her head so emphatically I can’t help but chuckle. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if your head hurts tomorrow.”

“I’ll take it out before bed.” A frown mars her brow, but it’s immediately replaced with wide eyes as she leads me into the living room. Sitting on the couch, I see everything we need on the coffee table. “Will you be able to braid it again before school?”

“Of course, I can do that for you!” Kissing the top of her head, I pick up the brush lying in front of me, and start brushing out the knots. I separate a few pieces and start interlacing them in the opposite direction you would a French braid. “Something special going on at school tomorrow?”

Midway down Scarlett’s head, the braid is starting to take form and I realize that my usually talkative niece hasn’t answered me. I stop and move my face over her shoulder to look at her. The corner of my lips lift at her expression.

“So what’s his name?” I ask in a sing-song voice and watch her cheeks take on a tinge of pink.

“Whose name?” Scarlett skillfully evades. “I just want my hair braided.”

Chuckling at her response, I silently go back to braiding. A lesson that my mom taught us before life got crazy was that silence will catch the same number of bees as honey.

“I don’t have a crush on Steven,” she says timidly. “He just moved here, and I want to be nice to him.”

“Steven, huh?” I ask, a wide smile on my face. “Want to tell me about him?”

---