Page 54 of Vital Blindside

I inhale sharply when he lifts my leg and sets my foot in his lap before starting to dig his fingers into the taut muscles of my calf. A quiet moan slips from my mouth when he digs deep and kneads a particularly sore spot. The sound has his head whipping in my direction. His eyes are fire when they meet mine.

I’m aware of the conversations happening around us, but it’s all static.

His throat stretches with a swallow before he’s scratching at his jaw and running a hand over his hair. He’s becoming fidgety, and all I want is for his hand to move up my leg and settle between my legs, on the wet fabric that never had the chance to fully dry from our time in the bathroom before becoming soaked again.

“Dad, you brought extra clothes, right?” Cooper asks.

I nearly jump out of my skin when he appears beside my chair, looking bored. If he cares at all about his father touching me, albeit just my lower leg, he doesn’t show it.

Adam seems to care a lot more because he casually sets my leg back on the chair and removes his hand, placing it in his lap.

“Yeah, bud. I have a bag in the living room on the second level. I can show you,” he says quickly.

I can’t ignore the pang of disappointment that’s bloomed in my stomach as I watch him get up and start to lead Cooper off the deck and inside the sitting room.

Once they’ve disappeared, I force myself back into the conversations going on around me. The guys appear to be in a heated discussion about who they think is going to win the cup this year, and regardless of the Vancouver defenseman sitting with them, Oakley and Braden show interest in Minnesota, the team the Warriors will be up against in the final round of the playoffs.

“I’m not saying the VW will lose. I’m just saying they’re up against a harder team than they’ve faced so far in these playoffs, and without a consistent, reliable goaltender. I’m a Warrior until I die, but I’m not going to lie and say they’re the best team in the league right now,” Oakley says.

“You guys have already proved the shit-talkers wrong, Ty. You’ve made it to the final round with a backup tendy at best and a lacking defensive core. Without you, we all know there would be no VW in the finals,” Braden adds. He’s sporting a supportive smile, but it bounces right off Tyler’s frown.

He looks at Oakley and says, “Minnesota has a history of choking against us. You know that better than anyone.”

“The last time Oakley and the Warriors went up against Minnesota in the playoffs, they didn’t have Orlo on their team. They went up against an aging defense well past their prime and a goalie right out of the draft.”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken until after the words hit the air. Everyone goes silent as my spine steels.

Braden blows out a low whistle and settles in his chair, tightening his arms around his girls.

Tyler turns to me, his eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look angry but curious. Like he’s not sure what to make of what I’ve said.

“Orlo might be a great player, but he’s not the entire team, and the team is lacking this season,” he states.

I cock my head. “They’re also not playing with a backup-level goalie who’s pushing through an undisclosed groin injury.”

Tyler blanches. “Where did you hear that?”

“Nowhere. It’s just obvious.” I shrug.

“Our goalie is fine,” he lies swiftly.

“Lie to me if you want, but it won’t change the fact you can’t afford to be cocky.”

“She’s right,” Oakley says. His posture is stiff. “You’ve made it this far to win—don’t let your superficial view of the opposing team cloud your judgment.”

Tyler swallows that advice like you would a big pill with no water. He nods once, and the conversation dies. I almost feel guilty for butting in, but when Oakley shoots me a smile, I let it go.

“I think I just fell in love with you, Scarlett,” Gracie says quietly, leaning over the arm of her chair.

A laugh swells in my chest before exploding out of my mouth. And when the other girls join me, I don’t bother trying to stop.

20

ADAM

I wake up the morning after Gracie’s party and flinch at the pain in my throat. It’s swollen and raw, and my nose is stuffed. I lift a hand to my chest just to make sure there isn’t a giant’s foot pressing down on me and shudder a breath before coughing.

“Fuck,” I whisper, dropping my hand back to the bed.

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