Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
There’s the dad I know and love.
Asher’s in the kitchen helping Grandpa, and when we get out there, Dad walks straight up to him and hands over the sweater with a grunted “Here.”
He leaves, and Asher walks over to me. “What the hell is this?”
“Hmm …” I tap my chin. “If only there was something we could do to figure it out.”
Asher rolls his eyes and tears open the paper. “Oh no …”
“Oh yes. Reindeer knit is my kink.”
He groans as I take the sweater and force it over his head. “Why do you hate me?” Despite his words, he shoves his arms into the sleeves.
“Nonsense. Red, navy, and white is a good look on you.” I actually don’t think it’s a good look on anyone, but Asher almost pulls it off.
Then I take out my phone.
“Oh, hell no.” He lunges for it, but even with his hockey reflexes, he’s too slow, and we end up play fighting in the kitchen while he tries to wrestle it off me.
“Just one picture,” I say.
“No.”
“But you’re my boyfriend. It’s basically a requirement.”
“There is no damn way I want anyone on the team seeing me in this.”
“For me?”
“Not even for that.”
I pout. “I’ll tell my dad you’re being mean to me.”
“And people think I’m the shithead.” He pretends to be outraged but leans in and kisses me. It’s soft and sweet and does nothing other than make me want more.
Then my phone is tugged from my hand.
“Hey!”
I don’t get a chance to protest any more because Asher pulls me against his side and holds out the phone. “You owe me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I lower my voice so no one else can hear. “I’ll lick your jingle balls later.”
He takes the shot, and when he hands my phone back, I’m sort of blown away by how good we look together. It might be the lighting, or the angle, but I’m pretty sure the main reason the photo is so good is because we both look happy.
“What’s that face?” Asher asks.
I glance up from my phone to find him watching me closely. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Figured.” His gorgeous lips pull into a smirk as he plucks the front of his sweater. “There’s no way this was from your dad.”
“My mom, actually.”
He steps forward and wraps his arms around me. “Was he okay with us?”
“Not really. Maybe still isn’t that sold on the idea, truthfully, but I made it clear he doesn’t have a choice.”
For some reason, that seems to surprise Asher. “That simple?”
“At the end of the day, he wants the same thing as I do. Someone who will treat me right. And that’s you, so he needs to deal with it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone tell Coach to deal with it before.”
“Lucky you have me, then.”
The back door slams loudly, followed by, “Bennett, give it back!”
Asher drops his head onto my shoulder. “It’s going to be a long day.”
I tilt his face back up. “Totally worth it.”
29
Asher
I’m sitting at Coach’s dining table. Next to my boyfriend. And I’m breathing. I was not expecting that. Though I can feel Coach’s stare from the head of the table.
On my other side, Bennett tugs on my ugly-ass sweater and points to his plate. Out of all of us, Ben is the fussy eater. He’d rather starve than eat a vegetable. West is adamant he has to eat everything on his plate or go to bed hungry, but Ben would rather be hungry. There have been many nights where he has skipped dinner.
According to Google, kids won’t starve themselves and will eat their vegetables if they truly are hungry, but Ben has my stubbornness, so yeah, I wouldn’t put it past him.
I take his plate and separate his food so it’s not touching each other the way he likes it and then scrape a good chunk of the stuff I know he won’t eat onto my plate.
And now West is glaring at me too.
At this rate, Kole will be next. Maybe by the end of the meal, everyone will be glaring at me.
I figure I had the choice of fighting with Ben in front of everyone or giving him a smaller goal. He still has some vegetables on his plate, just not an overwhelming amount. If he eats any, it’s a win.
“Asher,” Kole’s mom starts, “Paul says you’re going to take the team all the way this season.”
“It’s a team effort,” Coach grumbles, as if he doesn’t want to acknowledge he’s been talking about how good I am.
“I hope so,” I say diplomatically. “The team’s really coming together.”
“And the good news is, we’ll have Asher, Kaplan, and Simms for at least another season,” West says. “They’re really working together and are tight line mates.”
Ugh. I hate that my chest swells with pride at my big brother’s approval, but I focus on the praise because I know the resentment is superficial. It’s been years of comparisons that we don’t need to do anymore.