Ten months older, actually. Irish twins. Our family had a trip raising us, especially our grandfather. Ryan’s older, but I’ve always felt like I’m the more responsible sibling. By high school we were in the same grade because I tested into his year.
We used to be so close growing up. For the last two years I’ve distanced myself from hockey. After his big NHL draft moment over the summer, I agreed to go to the game tonight so I wouldn’t miss my last chance to see him play my college before his professional career.
Ryan doesn’t respond for several minutes, then sends a thumbs up emoji as his only apology. Dick.
I scroll back through the messages to the one that gives away my Heston Knight’s name.
“Easton,” I murmur.
I wasn’t sure at the bar if he was a hockey player or not. He’s built like one, tall and strong enough to throw me over his shoulder and carry me for three blocks with ease. I might have a soft hourglass figure, but I’m not exactly willowy. Mom used to say the Donnelly women are built solid with curvy hips and generous chests.
My face tingles with warmth remembering the feel of every firm muscle of his body when he set me on my feet. He had the attitude down, too.
I swallow thickly and clamp my thighs together to chase away the unwelcome throb of heat while picturing the sultry look he served up—the one that almost made me the next score on his stats.
Easton Blake is the perfect reminder of why I avoid hockey players.
Cocky. Frustratingly sexy. Accustomed to every girl in his orbit falling for his charm.
Handsome, playful smile. Messy dark brown hair. Warm blue eyes.
“Oh boy.”
I rub my forehead, still shocked at myself for winding up with a hockey player tonight. I can’t believe I dared him to keep tryingto win me over. There’s no way I’ll ever give in, yet part of me wants to see how hard he’ll work for it. My lips twitch.
Nah. He’ll move on. A guy like him is bound to forget about me.
Johnny did. Not a second wasted before I caught him with another girl—not like finding an unfamiliar pair of panties in his bed, but interrupting them in the act. I wanted to surprise my boyfriend before I toured his college. Instead, I got my heart broken and learned I should never trust hockey players.
Other than my brother, I want nothing to do with them. I swore them off to shield my heart from ever going through that pain again.
An aggravated sigh escapes me and I flop back on the bed, covering my face with a pillow. I don’t need to dwell on him at all. Annoyed with myself, I climb beneath the covers for bed.
This semester I have what most students would consider a normal schedule. It’s a blessing and a curse because I’m not keeping myself as busy as I have the last two years. Without the extra classes and assignments to distract myself, all the things I try not to worry about rise to the surface.
At least winter break is soon. That means I get to visit Grandpa in person.
I wait all year for the short amount of time I grant myself to go home. Since I started at Heston University, I’ve been nose to the grindstone. The intense course load that comes with racking up enough credits to complete my degree a year early is hard work, but worth the summer semesters and crammed schedules from the last two years.
This semester is the first one where I feel like I can breathe. It’s weird after piling on credit hours to have such a light class schedule. I’m glad I got as many course requirements as I could out of the way. From here on out, it’ll be smooth sailing to finish my studies next semester.
It’s all so Grandpa can see me graduate from college.
My throat closes over for a brief moment. In my senior year of high school his health took a really bad turn and he hasn’t fully recovered according to Mom and Dad’s reports about his physical therapy and doctor visits.
Winter break can’t come soon enough.
When my phone vibrates with a notification ten minutes later, I assume it’s Ryan texting me again. Time to silence my notifications. It’s an unpleasant surprise to find my ex’s name on my screen.
Johnny:You shouldn’t have left. Come back to the bar so we can catch up.
Johnny:I missed you.
“Ugh. No way.” I grimace at the slimy sensation his message causes in my stomach and glare at my phone. “Asshole.”
Stabbing the block caller button after so many years feels great. It’s something I should’ve done when we broke up, but I never had to worry. Johnny didn’t bother fighting for us or explaining himself. Hard to formulate an excuse forsorry you caught your boyfriend balls deep in a sorority chick.
He was my first andlasthockey player boyfriend. I swore I’d never fall for another self-absorbed jackass like him. He’s also the only serious relationship I’ve had—at least it was for me. Considering he was cheating on me, things were probably never serious for him. The few other guys I’ve dated either couldn’t handle my lack of availability, or fizzled out because I wouldn’t let my guard down for any true connection to develop.
