“I really appreciate this,” JJ says, his voice a little quieter.
Ugh. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Dad and Mom get to live by themselves in the Penthouse in Boston. JJ should be thanking me for this privilege. I’m the one stuck sharing a bathroom with him since he took Finn’s old bedroom.
It’s like déjà vu. The last time he lived with us, we shared that same bathroom, though Finn was still home, so the boys shared a room. We were fifteen and I had all sorts of feelings. Feelings I wish I could forget.
This is going to be so weird.
My parents ordered two sets of bunk beds and had them set up in the large playroom at the end of the hall. That’s where JJ’s daughterand Hope’s oldest—Grace, who’s four—will sleep, along with Winnie’s boys.
Hope’s other girls are little and will be staying in her bedroom.
It’s not a perfect scenario, but it’ll work.
With any luck, it’ll be fun for the kids. I grew up in a house full of kids, too, and I have thousands of good memories of that time.
If not for one small detail, I wouldn’t mind the situation at all.
And that small detail just stepped into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. “Do you have to go?” Avery whines.
“Yeah, Avey girl, I do,” JJ says, giving her a soft smile. He catches me staring at the two of them and smirks. “And so do you.”
I tilt my head and focus on the counter in front of me. It’s safer if we don’t make eye contact. Easier. Though that’s about to be nearly impossible, considering my new job. With that reminder, I force myself to meet his gaze.
It’s annoying how beautiful JJ Hanson grew up to be. Yes, beautiful. He’s got all these pretty lines on his face, a strong jaw, and long black lashes that most women would kill for. And then there are his eyes. They’re a glacier blue, almost the dusty blue of the ice in Bolts Arena. The team color that just so happens to be my absolute favorite in the world.
I honestly can’t say whether I love the color because I’ve always dreamed of being a Bolt or because it’s the color of his eyes. I hate how much I’ve thought about this question. Despise it really.
And don’t even get me started on his incredible body. It’s not just that he’s strong, with broad shoulders and thick thighs. Those traits are a necessity for all NHL goalies, and he’s damn good at what he does. Not that I’d ever tell him that. But in my world, muscular guys are a dime a dozen. What I love about his body is that the man is built like a protector. Like a dad. That last part is the sexiest thing about him of all. How sweet he is to his daughter. He turns into complete mush for her. JJ Hanson is as incredible as a father as Beckett is. And damn if that isn’t my kryptonite. As much as I despise this attraction to him, I’d never wish those traits away. I absolutely adore his daughter, and how could I not want him to be a great dad for her?
“I’m leaving shortly,” I reply.
“We’re going to the same place. Might as well ride together,” he says.
I swear every eye in the room is on us, like they’re all waiting for me to explode.
Avery peers up at me, her eyes the same glacier blue as her father’s. “You should remind him he’s not the boss of you.” She gives me one of her signature saucy smiles. “You’rethe boss of him.”
The room erupts into laughter, the tension breaking. Grinning, I pull Avery onto my lap, hugging her tight. Her mother disappeared recently, so I’ve made even more of an effort to show her love and affection since. I still don’t know why she left, but that woman has caused more than enough grief for a lifetime. It serves me well not to think of her. I will, however, always have her little girl’s back. Even if she happens to be JJ’s daughter.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to remind him repeatedly.” I dart a look at JJ, who is wearing one of his many guarded expressions, his focus on us. “I’m driving.”
His eyes instantly light up like he’s surprised by my response. “Fine by me, Coach.”
That’s the other thing I got wrong when I pictured my future. I’m not the legendinthe NHL. I’m justthe legend’scoach.
TWO
JJ
Theo: How’d the move go? Hopie all settled?
I shakemy head as I sink into Adeline’s Bolts blue Porsche. I’m pretty sure Beckett had it custom made for her. She’s been obsessed with cars since she was sixteen. Probably because she’s spent all her life hanging out with guys who are obsessed with three things: hockey, cars, and women.
Adeline doesn’t give anyone even a second of her attention—male or female—but she could talk cars and hockey all day.
And sports cars have always been her favorite.
“What are you shaking your head at?” She grumbles as she revs the engine.
