Page 133 of Triple Pucked
Cody narrows his eyes at me from across the booth. “Are you constipated, sis?”
Cody is wearing a pastel cashmere sweater and light blue jeans. Michael is seated next to him with his arm possessively around his husband’s shoulders. He looks tired with purple circles underneath his eyes, but his tan suit is immaculate.
Michael has only just finished his twelve hour shift at the hospital but always insists on bringing Cody out to socialize with his friends. Cody only has me for family. Michael pushes himself past his limits sometimes but it is always for Cody’s sake.
My ex-husband, on the other hand, would leave me at home for long evenings. I would be isolated, sitting alone, while I would receive cold texts telling me that practice had gone on for longer than expected or that Wilder had gone out for drinks with the boys andnot to wait up.
Later, I learned that most of those times, Wilder was cheating with other women.
I know what it is to be separated and abandoned too.
I am so happy every time that I see my brother has a husband who puts him first.
“I can prescribe something to treat that,” Michael says, dryly.
Shay glances at me, confused. “Or are you trying to lay an egg?”
I stop my attempt to look tough with a sigh. “That was my Neve impression. I thought that it may help if I ever come across Blythe.”
Instantly, Shay’s expression shutters. “I wouldn’t allow her to get that close to you.”
“Nor would I.” D’Angelo takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sadly, since you look more like a constipated squirrel than a badass?—”
“Hey,” I protest weakly.
D’Angelo is sprawling in the booth on my other side. He is dressed in a suit that matches the piercing blue of his eyes.
I hide my smile behind my beer bottle.
It’s my third.
I intend to get nicely tipsy.
Okay, totally wasted.
Security are stationed outside the door of Merchant’s Inn for our protection. I have had weeks of stress and non-stop work. Eden is at home curled in bed with a mug of Earl Grey and a book, waiting for us and ready to catch me if I stumble in drunk.
Tomorrow, D’Angelo and Shay can sleep in, before getting ready for their next game against the New York Islanders. Eden and I intend to do more research on the Misfits and look through the research that Garcia has done on KillaStar.
“Blythe isn’t a badass.” Shay stares steadily at the table, avoiding our gazes. “She is charming to everyone in her orbit. Bloody hell, she was even charming tomeat the start. She’s glamorous. Having just turned eighteen and being away from home for the first term, I was flattered that this posh third year was taking an interest in me. She manipulated me with love bombing and by offering a glimpse into her cultured world. Ironically, she’s a true ice queen. She could slice me with a word, as much as the slash of a belt. She looks like the perfect English aristocrat, being the heiress to some business that’s beenrunning since Victorian times. The thing is that she’s entitled because she’s always got her own way. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be hungry or not to be able to buy what she wants, even a person. She doesn’t know what it’s like to struggle. I never felt good enough but like I was lucky to even be looking up at such a…”
He breaks off, frustrated.
“People like her are skilled at making others feel like that.” D’Angelo pushes a fresh open beer across the table to Shay.
Shay raises it, then tilts the beer.
We all clink our glasses and bottles against his.
“To your win on Thursday night,” I say. “And to winning on Saturday.”
Shay takes a drink; his long neck bobs.
He places the bottle down and wipes across his mouth. “Cheers to that.”
“If this Blythe person comes anywhere near you,” my brother declares, “I will kick herglamorousass.”
Michael pats him on the knee. “How about we come up with a more permanent plan than that?”
