But she’s happy, and I have to admit, it’s nice being able to host everyone. It would’ve never happened without her.
For the first time tonight, and maybe not for long, it’s just me and Summer tucked against the wall. “Thank you for all of this,” I tell her. “I know it was a lot, with everything you have going on, but I appreciate it.”
She rises onto her toes to kiss me, mumbling against my mouth, “You’re welcome.”
I indulge in one more taste, sweet champagne and cherry on her lips, reluctantly pulling back in time to see Helm amble over, catching his toe on the edge of a rug. Coach told us tonight’s our last night to indulge until after the playoffs, and Helm is making the most of it.
“Cap, let’s get?—”
“Hey! You!You’reEaston Helm.” Owen marches up to him, staring up with an expression that’sdefinitely notadmiration.
Helm grins, bending down to his level. “Hey, little man. You a fan?”
“No,” Owen replies flatly.
The grin falters. “No?”
“You got a penalty for slashing last game. That was dumb.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. Beside me, Summer’s shoulders shake.
“It was a bad call,” Helm argues, looking genuinely offended.
“It wasn’t. You hit him right on the hands. I saw it.” Owen crosses his arms.
“Well, we still won,” Helm huffs.
“Owen.” Ada appears, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. “What did I tell you about being polite?”
“But, Mom?—”
Owen shoots Helm one last scathing look before running off. Ada tips her head back, like she’s praying for patience, then follows after him.
Helm stands there, shell-shocked. “Did I just get roasted by a nine-year-old?”
“Yep,” I say.
“I like that kid.” Summer laughs, cheeks flushed from champagne.
Helm mutters something about “tough crowd.”
“There you are.” Fox swoops in, slinging an arm over each of our shoulders. Mia’s right behind him.
“I feel like I should take credit for this,” he says, looking between Summer and me. “If it weren’t for me, you two would’ve never met.”
I free myself from Fox’s grip, and Summer finds her way back to my side.
“Pretty sure that was me,” Mia cuts in.
“You’re right, baby,” Fox agrees, leaning down to give her a quick kiss.
“We would’ve met on our own,” Summer defends.
I pull her closer to me, my hand squeezing her hip.
“Fated mates,” Fox singsongs, before calling across the room. “Hannah! Fated mates!”
Summer gives me a look that I interpret as:what’s going on?
