Quinn’s questions stopped after August went quiet, and they didn’t talk again until they were pulling into the parking lot of a rink he knew was close to Callahan’s home.
August took his time getting out of the car, waiting awkwardly as two children bolted from the backseat of the SUV parked beside them to tackle Quinn in a hug.
The girls were still as adorable as the last time he had seen them. Their hair was the same dark brown as Quinn’s, but they had Callahan’s blue eyes, and they werefullof energy.
“Quinn! You brought Snowy!” One of the girls shouted, waving frantically at August. “Is he here to watch us?”
Quinn exchanged a look with the woman who was handing the children off, muttering something about how August was about to steal his ‘uncle spotlight’.
The quieter girl approached cautiously, frowning in a way that reminded him of Quinn.
“The last game was so cool, Mr. Snow. You scored twice and got pushed around by the goalie, but why didn’t you fight him?”
August knelt so she wouldn’t have to hurt her neck to look up at him. “August or Snowy is fine. And I didn’t fight the goalie because he was small, and I didn’t want to hurt him.”
The other girl approached him much faster, bouncing on the heels of her feet. “Daddy said that you’re a gentle giant, and that you don’t like to fight,” then she turned to her sister and said, “Duh.”
Wow, August was starting to have rapid-fire flashbacks to the arguments between Quinn and Esme. But unlike back then, August didn’t have to intervene because Quinn pushed forward, separating the siblings.
“If you start fighting, no hockey,” Quinn announced, grabbing the arms of his nieces to keep control over them. “If you want to bicker with each other, save it for the ice, brats.”
“I’m dropping my gloves after the whistle,” said the quieter twin, mimicking her uncle’s stern tone. “You’d better be ready, Alara. And no crying this time.”
Now Quinn was sharing a look with August that screamed,save me from this family of puckheads, and August chuckled.
The girls were eager to get inside and put on their skates, so August let Quinn take the lead since he wasn’t familiar with the arena. And because he was dumb and forgot to bring a cap and sunglasses to hide his face, people took notice of him when he walked inside.
“Ah shit,” said August.
One of the twins gasped.
“Snowy, you’re not supposed to swear. Daddy tells Uncle Quinn that all the time.”
Quinn shushed her, reaching out to take August’s hand to keep him calm, but the whispers had already started. Excited kids with excited parents were creeping forward like an approaching tide.
“Hey, Quinn. It’s almost time for the kids to get on the ice,” said a pretty blonde-haired woman that August sort of recognized. She pushed through the murmuring crowd with a little boy on her hip, along with another woman who was holding onto a boy who looked to be the same age as the twins.
The girls lit up when they spotted their friend, and their babbling was loud enough to mask Quinn’s answer of, “Save us, Bea.”
Bea shot a look at the people surrounding them and peered at August, and it was that moment that he recognized her as Logan Bradshaw’s wife, Beatrice.
“Damage control,” said Bea with a nod. “August, you’ll probably have to sign autographs after practice to get out of this. Is that okay?”
August would have agreed, but then Quinn pressed into his side and shook his head. “No,” he hissed. “Make them go away or something. August shouldn’t have to sign crap just because he’s in public.”
Bea set her hand on her hip and readjusted the kid she was holding. “Public for you guys isdangerousright now. Did you not get my damn text?”
Before August could think better of it, he took out his phone and almost threw up when he saw several missed calls from his agent, his captain, and his fuckingmother.
He wasn’t paying attention when Bea asked her friend to take the children to the locker room and change into their skates. The only thing he was aware of was how fast Quinn’s pulse was fluttering in his wrist from where August was gripping it too hard.
One search on Google was all he needed to do to find several articles about him and Quinn, including pictures outside of their weekend in Toronto, going as far back as the charity ball months ago.
Nothing was damning in any of the articles. It was simple and nosy speculation on whether August and Quinn were dating, and so far, the response appeared positive, but it wasn’t why he was having a meltdown.
The meltdown was happening because of his mother’s six missed calls, and even though she couldn’t hurt him anymore, it still—
“August! I can’t believe my luck.”
