Page 14 of Unravel Me

“Keep your hands above the waist, Andersen,” Carter grumbles as Garrett squeezes Jennie’s butt. “That’s my sister.” He sandwiches a babbling Ireland between him and Olivia. “My two princesses.”

Jaxon steals the spotlight as he tears by everyone, screaming, “Cannonball!” before disappearing into my pool with a six-foot splash.

Olivia follows me into my kitchen, where I fill a glass with ice water and drain it in seconds.

“Date didn’t go well, huh?” she asks, pulling a fruit tray from my fridge.

“What, that picture of us kissing didn’t convince you?” I pop a piece of cantaloupe into my mouth as she snickers.

“You looked like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Maybe that’s why she only gave me a three out of five on the kiss scale.”

Olivia snorts, but so much genuine compassion shines in her eyes. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

I shrug. “It’s cool. I’m getting used to the idea that there’s no one out there for me.”

She frowns. “I don’t believe that, Adam. Not a single bit.”

“I’m tired of looking,” I admit quietly.

“Maybe that’s the point. Maybe when you stop looking and just live…maybe that’s when you find your magic.”

I smile at the thought as I hug Olivia’s tiny frame to mine before she heads outside. Magic sounds nice.

My phone rings as I pull burgers and sausages from the fridge, my mom’s face staring up at me from the screen. Her deep brown eyes and wide grin as she stands next to me after my first NHL game, proud as ever and barely reaching my shoulders, bring me a level of comfort that’s hard to find anywhere else.

I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder as I set the meat on a board. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey. What are you up to?”

“About to start the barbecue,” I tell her as a shriek and a splash sound through the door.

“Wish Dad and I were there to join you.” She hesitates, her tone somber when she speaks next. “Maybe we need to visit sooner than later.”

My chest tightens. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, your dad and I are worried, because…” Another pause, and is that—

“Are you laughing?”

“No,” she snickers. “It’s just, we’re really worried about you because—”giggle“—apparently you’re only a—”snort“—three out of five on the kiss scale,” she finally chokes out, nearly drowned by the boom of my dad’s laughter.

“For fuck’s sake. You two are brutal.”

“And she didn’t feel a love connection!” She wheezes, gasping for air, and my eyes find a permanent space in the back of my head.

“Don’t forget the tongue work!” Dad shouts. “He needs some serious tongue work!”

“I hate you,” I grumble.

When she finally gets a handle on her laughter—she might be crying—she says, “I’m sorry, honey. Keeping up with your love life on social media is our favorite way to spend Sunday mornings.”

“Not much of a love life.”

“Maybe you need to step back for a bit,” she suggests.

“Yeah, Ollie was just saying the same thing.”

---