Page 10 of Afterglow
I spot Landon with both hands palming his head. He groans and rubs his face.
Indi stands facing him, arms crossed.
“What happened?”
She finally notices me. “No big deal, just my husband being reckless and juvenile.”
“Baby,” he whines.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me, Radek.”
I gasp. She used his maiden name. He winces.
“Apparently, the boys don’t play poker during the season to avoid losing too much money. But now, since they’re out of the playoffs, they thought it’d be a good idea to gamble their sadness away.”
Who can blame them? They kinda blew it this year. And last year.
“And they knew—theyknew!—Fletcher would clean them out and wipe the floor with ‘em.”
Fletcher?
Fuck me, Fletcher Donovan.
In my dreams, he does.
Just the sound of his name has me tensing, sexually. Physically, there’s a tear rolling down my thigh.
The man is perfection. You know when you see someone so hot, you can tell they smell good? Yeah, that’s Fletcher Donovan. And I know for a fact he does. God, he smells incredible. I once caught a whiff of him when I passed by him in the family waiting area of a birthing center where Indi had Akhila, and it altered my brain chemistry. I can’t pinpoint exactly what he smells like, but it’s that fresh out of the shower, soapy clean. They say God doesn’t choose favorites, but that’s a lie, because Fletcher exists.
I wanna lick those beautiful freckles off his beautiful face. And those meaty, toned arms. I’d apply to be his hockey helmet only to tug his pretty red hair and take a ride on his face all damn day. And his voice? I wanna drink it down like Ursula from The Little Mermaid.
Alright, get it together, Bea. The man has you going full-Disney villain and getting all riled up with no plan in place for relief. Good thing no one can read my mind. It’s filthy in here.
“He doesn’t have a tell! What are we supposed to do?” Landon argues.
Her hands fly up. “Quit playing poker with him, god damn it!” Hishmphends in a pout and crossed arms like a petulant child. “Stick to the sport, okay, hockey boy?”
“Fine,” he mumbles and holds out his hands, grabbing for her. “Do I still get cuddles?”
Knife, meet back.
I am so fucking single.
Indi rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the right. “Get in the bedroom.”
I clap my hands together. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
The joke doesn’t land as well as expected, and I back up, retreating to my room for the night. I’m lucky they didn’t boo or throw tomatoes.
I let the bed swathe me, burrowing into the luxurious sheets and fluffy comforter like a warm hug.
You’re family, she said. Worst comes to worst, at least I know I can crash here temporarily. But it won’t come to that. I try affirmations and flood my thoughts with positivity.
I can do this.
Something has to work out.
Chapter 3
