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“Use him,” Connor mimicked, grinning over at me.
“He’s an untapped resource.” Ward smirked.
“Oh, fuck off. I didn’t ask him to take me under his wing.”
“But he did, hotshot. And now he wants you to take all the glory.”
“Worried I might steal your thunder, Holden?” I quipped.
“Nah. You hold our assist record for a reason. We’ve got a good thing going, Mase.” He gave me a cocky smile. “Don’t fuck it up.”
CHAPTER10
HARPER
“I can’t believeChad is making us watch that,” Kalvin flicked his head towards the flatscreen where the Lakers game was being aired.
“It’s all part of his plan to turn Millers into the next Lakers hangout.” Jill rolled her eyes. “I guess we can thank you for that,” she snickered.
“I didn’t know they’d show up. You can’t blame me.”
“What are we blaming Harper for?” One of the other servers, Janelle, joined us.
“Turning this place into The Penalty Box 2.0,” Kalvin grumbled.
“Nah, you’ll never lure them away from TPB.”
“Don’t be so sure; half the team turned up last weekend to see Harper.”
“They did?” Janelle frowned.
“I’m friends with some of the girlfriends. Not the guys.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that.” Janelle was new, like me. Her schedule was flexible, so she tended to cover wherever Chad needed her.
“You a hockey fan, Jan?”
“I prefer football. But the guy I’m seeing is a huge fan.”
“Unlucky for you.”
“Yeah.” She gave a small, strangled laugh. “I should get back out there before Chad loses his shit.”
“We should all get back to work,” Jill suggested.
But as I moved from table to table, taking orders and delivering food and drinks, my eyes kept wandering to the TV screen. The Lakers were winning, but it was a close game. Number 13 had the puck flying down the left wing. He faked the pass, ducking around a defender, and sent it flying toward the goal. The buzzer went off, and the Lakers moved another goal ahead of the Huskies.
The rest of the team piled on Mason, celebrating his goal. The camera panned to the Lakers bench, and I caught a glimpse of my father, fist-pumping the air and cheering alongside the rest of the team. He beckoned Mason over, grabbing him by the shoulder and smiling.
Damn, that one little interaction hurt more than any of the cruel words Mason had spat at me.
My father hadneverlooked at me like that.
All I got was disappointment and indifference, but there he was, grinning at Mason like he was the proudest man in the arena.
Dejection trickled through me, turning my blood to ice. All he’d ever wanted was a son to continue his legacy. To bond over hockey with.
Instead, he had gotten me.
