He’s so giddy and genuine. Seeing him smile like that is a bit intoxicating. It’s interrupting the irritation Ishouldbe feeling right now.
I’m still mad. I’m just taking a temporary moment to be happy for the team and my dad.
That’s it.
That’s all.
My dad peeks over his shoulder, glancing up at me. I wave to him, smiling big. This morning, I called and told him that Kerrigan and I would be attending tonight’s game. He wants us to come down to his office afterward to give us some merch he picked out for his two girls. I told him we could meet him after if it was easier, but he insisted.
I could have protested further, but that would’ve only drawn suspicion unless I told him the truth about Bates … which is not happening.
It can’t.
The thought stabs my chest, but I ignore the sensation, focusing instead on leading Kerrigan up the stairs and out of the seating area so we can head down to my dad’s office. It takes us a couple of minutes to get up to the main hallway that wraps around the entire rink and a couple minutes more to reach the area we need.
The sea of people is tightly packed, a lot like sardines, as I guide us toward an elevator, being guarded by a security member.
I don’t recognize him, but I show him my badge that my dad gave me long ago, and he happily lets me inside, not questioning my friend tagging along.
A moment later, we step into a long hallway.
“So … it was a good game,” she mutters, falling into step beside me.
I cackle.
This is the first thing she’s said since the game ended, and I know damn well that discussing the game play is the last actual thing on her mind right now.
“Just get to it,” I scoff.
“Okay, but the way he looked up at you afterward? Are you kidding? I could see the love in his eyes.” Looking off, her eyes glaze over, like she’s reliving the moment.
“Shut up.” I sass her, shoving her shoulder.
“If that were me …girl.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of your feelings regarding my situation.” I laugh, losing the fight to the smile tugging my lips up. “Iknowhow you want me to handle it.”
She nods, smirking with a devious look in her eyes as we stop outside my dad’s office.
“I get it—I do. But I’m not sure what I want out of all of this yet. I still have to figure that out. It’d be easy to just jump back into bed with him, but I want to be one hundred percent sure before that happens.”
We’re probably going to have to wait a few minutes until he’s done with the guys in the locker room or finished fulfilling any after-game duties, like interviews or … whatever he does after games.
We plop down into the chairs against the wall, making ourselves at home, and we get distracted showing each other videos on social media.
A door around the bend of the hallway closes, and a few players pass by us, waving politely at us. Neither of them is Bates or his two inseparable friends.
“Oh my God, they weresocute.” Kerrigan drools, watching them turn down another hallway, out of sight.
She’s not wrong. I swear our team could double for models if they ever needed a backup career. Eventually, I’m sure they’ll do a Sinners calendar because they’d be dumb not to. I have no doubt they’d sell every copy.
That same door closes again, and Kerrigan shamelessly watches, her head turned in the direction as she tracks the sound of one person’s footsteps coming our way. Maybe it’s my dad.
Or not.
Bates comes into view, and, holy mother of God, he looks good … too good. His hair is wet, looking darker than ever. It’s messy and damp, and, ugh … I don’t know what it is about guys with wet hair, but for some reason, it’s hot.
Maybe that’s just a hockey player thing or just a Bates thing. Regardless, it’s making me want to forget about being mad for just a second longer …
