“Would you like a beer?” I ask in the hope of cheering him up.
“I’d love one, but it’s on me. What would you like, young man?”
“Whatever you’re getting for Freya is good with me.”
Brian winks at his daughter, some unspoken words passing between them before he stalks off.
“So your dad really does love me, huh?”
“He loves all hockey players. Don’t let it go to your head.”
A smirk twitches at my lips. “It’s not anyone else's jersey he’s wearing right now, though, is it?”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“And that leads me to my previous question. Why aren’t you wearing my jersey?”
My stomach flutters with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
“I…um…wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.”
“I see,” I mumble, my eyes dropping to the LA Vipers branding across her chest.
“What’s that meant to mean?” she asks.
“Nothing. I’m just trying to imagine how it might look.”
Freya’s lips part to respond, but she doesn’t get a chance, because Killer bounds up to us and wraps his arm around her shoulders.
“If she’s wearing anyone’s jersey, then we all know it’s gonna be mine.”
Freya giggles.
“Why would you wear this grumpy motherfucker’s when there are other options? Are you and your dad coming out with us?”
“Oh god, no. Please do not invite him to his face. He’ll lose his mind. I promised Mom I’d have him back at a decent time. He has work tomorrow.”
Killer laughs. “Life’s no fun when you follow the rules.”
“You haven’t met my mother when she’s angry,” Freya jokes.
“Terrifying woman,” Brian agrees as he rejoins us. “Why are we making your mother angry?”
“We’re not,” Freya states as she takes her drink from her father and gives Killer a stern glare.
To my surprise, he heeds her warning.
I can’t lie; I’m disappointed. I want Freya to join us for drinks again. Though I must admit, the thought of her date being there again puts me off. It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t come. I’m not sure I can cope with another night watching her with another man.
I’ve hesitantly broached the subject of a second date with her this week, but so far, they haven’t made plans.
Am I hoping they never do? Possibly.
Brian stands between Killer and me with wide, excited eyes as he steers the conversation back to the game.
Freya watches her father with a soft smile.
Leaning closer to her, I whisper, “He’s like a kid in a sweet shop right now.”
