“Daddy, where are you going?”
I’m laughing but I hate this. I hate this so much. I shake my head at Jordan, whose eyes are bright and whose grin stretches ear to ear. “You are so going to pay for this.”
That night in my bedroom, after Jordan goes home, I study the guesthouse, lit up, before my gaze goes up to the stars. I find my favorites—the Little Bear and Great Bear—and rub a hand over my chest.
These days, when I look up at the stars, the same question rises, every time. If Jordan were a constellation, which would she be? I think of her silly socks, the mug she uses at work, the shirt she wore during the power outage, and it appears in my mind, so clear and sharp that I smile, my gaze roaming the night sky. The Little Fox. It’s too early in the year.
I can be patient, though.
CHAPTER 68
JORDAN
“Where’s your jersey?”Bea asks through a mouthful of nachos at the game two weeks later.
The first period just ended with the Storm up by two points, the band is playing in the arena, and the Zamboni does laps around the ice. We’re playing Los Angeles. Keir Fraser, the player who didn’t want to be traded, glowers from their bench.
She’s wearing a kid’s-size Storm jersey in the black and white colors from the last era, withWARDstitched across the back. Adorable.
“I don’t have one.”
She looks on either side of us at Pippa, Hazel, Darcy, and Georgia. “They all have one.”
“They’re all married or engaged to players.” Hazel’s jersey stretches across her expanding baby bump.
She frowns, unsatisfied with this pathetic answer. Fair. Compared to them, I stick out like a sore thumb. One of these things is not like the other. The sore spot aches like an annoying bruise before I shove the thoughts away. Who cares? They’re just jerseys.
“Maybe you should marry my dad and then you could wear his jersey.”
I choke on my pop. “What?” I croak, coughing. On either side of us, Georgia and Darcy turn with slow, devious grins.
“You and my dad could get married,” Bea says. Is she messing with me? It’s so hard to tell with her. She’s too smart. “You already live together.”
“We don’t live together.” My eyes are the size of dinner plates. “I live in the guesthouse.”
“Bea, I like where you’re going with this,” Georgia says, and I give her theshut upeyes.
Darcy puts on a thoughtful expression. “Is there a specific reason you think they should get married, Bea?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m going to break your calculator, nerd.”
“You already threatened to do that,” she says primly with a smile. “You’re all bark and no bite.”
“My dad laughs a lot around her,” Bea adds.
Darcy’s eyes light up. “Really.”
“Uh-huh. And he smiles more.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat.
“And,” she continues, “Jordan brings him pizza because he likes it, and she remembers his favorite flavor.”
“That,” Georgia leans in with a bold smile, “is a very thoughtful gesture.”
“And no one takes care of him but Jordan does.”
My pathetic little heart aches and I avoid everyone’s gaze. Thank god Hazel and Pippa are deep in conversation about something else.
