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Two more shots. Two goals.
I can feel her curiosity from where she stands behind me.
“You’re not close with your parents?” she asks.
My next shot is harder than the others and completely misses the net. “No. We’re very different people.”
“They’re grumpy? Rude? Glass half-empty types?”
I turn to her and release a breath. She’s staring at me like she wants me to cut myself open and bleed every single one of my secrets out on the ice for her. Little does she know all she’d have to do is hand me a knife.
“All of the above with a sprinkle of unsupportive and a dash of stuck-up.”
She winces. “Yeah, that would do it.”
“They’re not a part of my life anymore. Cooper deserves better.”
“So do you,” she says, her voice so soft I barely hear it. I hold myself back from closing the distance between us and pulling her in my arms. “Some people don’t deserve the time of day, and from what you’ve told me, it sounds like they’re those people. The sun’s too bright to be cast out by gloomy storm clouds.”
My heart thumps against my rib cage. “Are you calling me the sun, Scarlett?”
She rolls her eyes, but the action does little to hide the warmth in them.
“Yeah, Adam. You’re the damn sun.”
23
SCARLETT
Leo is already waiting at a booth in the back corner of the pub when I arrive.
The Minnesota Woodmen just won game two in the final round of the playoffs, evening the score to one for both teams. The mood in the pub is a mix between frustration, anger, and a small flutter of happiness from the few MW fans.
Having the home team lose at their own arena in their city sucks. This was their chance to come up with two before heading to Minnesota, but instead, they gave their advantage away.
Even though I’m a VW girl at heart, I can’t pretend like I didn’t scream a bit too loud when Leo scored the final goal and sealed the win for the Woodmen.
“Letty!” Leo calls from the booth. He’s standing now, waving his hand in the air as if the pub is too crowded for me to see him.
I sidestep a guy in a Bateman jersey with green paint all over his face when he falls off his stool and mumbles drunken words that I don’t understand.
He’s going to feel that in the morning. Along with a mountain of hockey-induced frustration.
Leo’s grin is cheek-splitting when I reach the booth. “Look at you. You’re glowing.” His arms are wrapped around me in seconds, squeezing me in a bear hug.
I roll my eyes and hug him back. “It’s sweat from how hot it is in here.”
He places a kiss to the side of my head. “I actually found it quite cold.”
“That’s because you’re a Woodman in a Warriors bar. I was expecting to find you pinned to the wall and being used as a dartboard.”
Leo pulls back, laughing that same belly-warming laugh that always seemed to free me from a losing-game funk. His soft brown eyes twinkle under the hanging lights above us.
He hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw him—maybe just a bit bulkier, considering the training regimen he has to follow. His hair is still that light blond colour that reminds me of wheat fields, and his dimples are still deep in his cheeks when he smiles.
“It’s safer for me here than at a bar celebrating the Woodmen win. At least here, everyone hates me too much to come ask for an autograph.”
I snort a laugh. “Good point.”
