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Some irrational side of me expected him to wrinkle his nose and insist on getting me something less plebeian.
I should’ve known that wasn’t him, and true to form, he said, “Okay. The offer stands, but it’s your call. And I’m serious about coming with you.” His grin made my spine tingle. “I don’t want to wait for the wedding to see you in a suit.”
I laughed breathlessly. “Just remember you can’t peel it off me while we’re in the store.”
Tanner gave a melodramatically petulant huff that would’ve made my eighth graders envious, and he crossed his arms. “God. You take the fun out ofeverything.”
Snickering, I said, “That’s not what you said earlier.”
He tried and failed to fight a grin. Then he let it come to life. “All right. Fair.” As I took the pot of noodles to the sink to drain them, Tanner said, “So, we’re on, then? Visit your family, go to my teammate’s wedding, and then go stay with my family for a few weeks?”
I glanced over my shoulder, and his hopeful smile almost made me drop the pot. How was I lucky enough to have this beautiful, sweet man as my boyfriend?
Spend the whole summer with him? At our families’ houses and in Hawaii?
“Definitely,” I said. “I’m in.”
Chapter 24
Tanner
Isaiahand I watched the rest of the playoffs from the comfort of my condo. The Cup final happened to be on the same night school ended, so we celebrated the beginning of his “off season” in between cheering for Jersey, who ended up losing that nailbiter of a game to Nashville.
Now the school year and hockey season were over. For the next few months, we wouldn’t be getting dragged apart by jobs or travel. Soon, I’d be introducing him to my family. Even sooner, we’d be enjoying Hawaii.
First things first—a few days with his family.
This morning, we left Pittsburgh for his parents’ house near Philly. Instead of the Ferrari or Isaiah’s truck, we took my Mercedes SUV, since it was better suited for carrying a couple of suitcases than the sports car’s tiny trunk. After breakfast, we grabbed some gas station coffee and hit the road, chatting as we crawled through traffic.
“I’m glad I didn’t put any money on that game,” Isaiah mused from the passenger seat. “I still can’t believe they pulled it off. And it’s just as well I won’t be home for a while. One of my housemates is going to beinsufferable.”
“Yeah?” I glanced at him. “He a big Nashville fan?”
The groan and the eyeroll said it all. “I legitimately won’t be surprised if I come home and find a replica Cup on our kitchen counter.”
I snorted, keeping my gaze fixed on the road as I changed lanes. “I should give you a signed puck from last year’s playoffs, then.”
“Why’s that?” Beat. “Oh, right! You guys knocked Nashville out of the running, didn’t you?”
“In a glorious four-game sweep that got their head coach and GM fired.” I cackled. “I try not to be smug when they do that much housecleaning after a loss—shit happens, you know?—but I’ve played for both of them.” I grinned. “Couldn’t have happened to a couple of nicer guys.”
“Really?” He shifted a little, twisting toward me. “They were really that bad? I heard they were awful, but I never know how much of that is just rumors.”
“It usually is just rumors and bullshit. Like that giant rivalry between Cal Scott and Mikhail Petrovich?” I scoffed. “Total bullshit.”
“It is?”
“Completely fabricated.” I rested one hand on top of the wheel and glanced into his eyes, which were dancing with curiosity and amusement. “That year I went to the All Stars? I watched them hanging out in the locker room, scrolling through Mikhail’s phone and laughing their asses off at all the memes about how much they hate each other. And like, they train together during the off season. I think they’ve gone on vacations together with their families.”
Isaiah whistled. “Wow. Someone must’ve worked hard to cook up the rivalry, then.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “Comes with the territory when you have a couple of generational talents coming in at the same time, especially when they end up on rival teams.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. So what about the coach and GM? The ones who got fired from Nashville?”
“Oh, right, right.” I drummed my fingers on top of the wheel as I tried to figure out where to start. “So, Coach Haskins was the assistant head coach in Seattle when I was drafted. And the season before that, he was the head coach of my major junior team.” I rolled my eyes and swore. “God,Ihatedhim. His entire coaching style revolves around screaming at players and cursing them out. He never actually gives us constructive information to fix what we’re doing. The only way you know you’re doing it right is if he stops screaming at you.”
Even without looking, I could feel Isaiah recoiling. When I glanced at him, I wasn’t all surprised to see disgust contorting his features. “And let me guess,” he said. “He justifies it as him being ‘old school’ and his players being ‘too soft.’”
