I somehow manage to make it through pre-game, though mostly through pure muscle memory. I forced my eyes away from the stands every time I was tempted to look at her—which was about every two seconds because she looked as beautiful as I remember.
Stop. It. Asshole.
A body plops down on the bench beside me, and I know who it is without even looking. Guilt threatens to eat me alive.
“Dude, why the fuck were you staring at Juliette?” Baylor's voice is harsh, and I do my best not to cringe. This is so fucked up, and I still have no idea who the woman I’m in love with actually is.
“Ju-Juli-what?” I stammer, attempting to play dumb.
I’m staring at the wall behind him, but his glare is so compelling, my eyes finally turn to face his fierce ones. Yeah, he’s pissed.
“Juliette,” he repeats. “The blonde that was holding Aiden.”
Unable to come up with a viable excuse, I’m saved when Gibby sits on the other side of me and laughs raucously. “Dude, never mess with Baylor’s sister. He’ll fuck you up.”
His…sister?
My spine feels like it’s melting, and I almost slump to the floor in relief when it hits me. Though sleeping with a teammate’s sister is a very bad idea, it’s not as bad as sleeping with his wife, for fuck’s sake.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t know that was your sister.”
Baylor’s face relaxes a little, and he points at his face. “What? You don’t see the family resemblance?”
I’m finally able to huff out a laugh. “You’re not exactly twins.”
“Nah, we’re half siblings. We share a mother.”
Juliette’s story about her family comes back to me, and the pieces begin to make sense. Her mom and biological father married and had her. Then her mom married another man and had a child—who’s apparently Baylor. When she came back years later, she married Juliette’s bio dad again and had two more children. That also accounts for Baylor and Juliette’s differing last names.
“I apologize again for staring. I saw her holding your son, and I was trying to figure out who she was. Didn’t mean any disrespect.”
Though I disrespected the shit out of your sister when she was on her knees for me and I was attempting to fuck her esophagus.
And have mercy on my soul because I want to doit again.
We beat Oklahoma handily, and though it was an exhibition game and wouldn’t count toward our season, it still felt really good. Next year, we’ll play on their home ice for a charity of their choice.
Knowing Juliette was in the stands, I played my heart out. The other team didn’t even score a goal on us.
As soon as I step out of the locker room, I spot Ma and Gramps standing against the wall. My grandfather reaches me first and pulls me into a hug, resting his hand on the back of my shower-damp head.
“My boy. I’m so proud of you.”
I close my eyes and hug him back, amazed as always at how strong he still is. Physically anyway. That’s what makes his disease so difficult to understand. He’s a big, hardy man on the outside, but his mental status is slowly fading away.
“I’m so glad you were able to come, Gramps.”
“I told everyone around us you were my grandson.” He wiggles his gray eyebrows. “They were mighty impressed. I got two phone numbers.”
My mother swats his arm playfully. “Oh, Arlo, hush. You did not.”
The old man chuckles wickedly, and I love seeing him joke around. “Well, I could have. I bet Reno would make a good… what’s it called? A bird man?”
It takes me second to figure out what he’s trying to say. “I think you mean wingman.”
He snaps his fingers and points. “Yeah, that’s the ticket. Wingman. Even though you’re a rookie, I’ll bet the ladies still love you.”
Ma and I catch each other’s eyes, and she winces slightly at his blunder.
