Page 106 of Playing for the Hat Trick
All three of them laugh like I just told the best joke they’ve heard all week.
Hailey moves first, grabbing a blueberry scone, breaking it cleanly in half like she’s proving some kind of point. “Your brother came home pretty pissed about this morning’s . . . events.”
She says events like it’s code for something scandalous and not just me kissing a man we’ve known for years.
“His sister kissed a guy,” she continues, sarcastically. “In public.”
“The horror,” Val deadpans, tossing some ice into the blender.
The blender whirs to life with a roar as if adding an extra exclamation point to the scene.
Once it settles, Cam holds up her mug of wine. “Someone who’s ‘fine,’ doesn’t ignore twenty-seven texts from her brothers demanding to know if she was making out with Jason Tate.”
Valentina taps a manicured nail against the counter like she’s delivering closing arguments. “Fine, it doesn’t look like she’s one bad memory away from taking a flamethrower to her life and starting over on another planet.”
I open my mouth to argue—because that is wildly unfair.
Immediately close it.
Because . . . okay, yeah. I could try to figure out if there’s life on Mars or . . . somewhere closer. And perhaps they’re right, but I have been spiraling a little.
I snatch the first margarita Valentina pours and a scone like they’re flotation devices on a sinking ship. If my mouth is full, I don’t have to explain myself. Great plan, honestly.
“Exactly,” Hailey says, sitting on a stool and leveling me with the look. The same look she usually reserves for Leif when he’s doing something infuriating.
“Don’t worry,” she adds. “We’re gonna sort your life out.”
“I don’t need sorting,” I grumble, but even to my ears, it sounds more like a toddler insisting they don’t need a nap mid-meltdown.
Cam props her chin on her hand, grinning like she’s got front-row seats to the world’s best soap opera. “You’re in love with him.”
“I am not.” The denial rips out of me fast and defensive, like she just accused me of murdering someone.
Valentina snorts into her margarita. “You just choked on tequila at the idea. That’s not a ‘no,’ sweetie. That’s a full-blown panic response.”
I glare at them, cheeks burning, but they’re already laughing, clinking their drinks together like they’ve won a bet I didn’t know we were having.
And maybe they have.
Because even with all the tequila and denial in the world . . .
I don’t think I can lie to myself anymore.
“I’m not—” I start, but my voice cracks traitorously. I clear my throat. “I don’t care for him. Jason is okay.”
They all stare at me.
“I just—” I gesture helplessly, scone crumbs flying. “—like him. Sort of. Maybe. A little.”
Hailey’s eyes soften immediately. “It’s okay, you know. To like someone. To want more.”
Cam leans forward. “You’re allowed to be scared and still try.”
Valentina, predictably, goes for the kill shot. “You’re just so used to surviving that you don’t know how to thrive.”
It hits like a sucker punch.
Right in the gut.
