Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
It’s not like these guys are hard to figure out if you pay attention. I pay attention. I also pay Ron in security to tell me the juicy shit that happens around here so I don’t get hit with any surprises. It helps me put out fires before they turn into raging goddamn infernos.
River shakes his head, hauling himself to his feet. “One of these days, I’ll be in your skates, Graves.”
“Keep dreaming, St. James.” If he ever gets his shit together, he may very well be in my position one day. I’ve got a few good years left. He’s damn near a decade younger than I am. He’s got at least fifteen in him. He’s in line for the captain spot once I retire. He just needs to grow the fuck up first and realize that he’s his own worst enemy.
He hops over the boards, discreetly flipping me the bird before he skates off.
I pull my phone out of my bag, grinning when I see a text from Wren. She sent it less than five minutes ago.
Wren: I bet your morning is going better than mine.
Me: Wanna bet? You aren’t here, little bird. Mine is automatically worse than yours.
Wren: Did you get pooped on? Because I got pooped on, Archer.
A surprised bark of laughter erupts from my lips.
Me: WTF? Who shit on you?
Wren: Gross. Don’t call it that. It makes it sound worse.
Me: … Poop and shit are literally the same thing. How does “I got shit on” sound worse than “I got pooped on”?
Wren: It just does.
I smile despite myself. She’s irrational and cute as hell anyway.
Wren: Happy wife, happy life, Archer. That means you have to agree with me.
Me: Oh. That’s what that means, huh?
Wren: Obviously.
Me: Yes, ma’am.
I chuckle again. Fuck, I love how goddamn playful she is. She gives me nine kinds of hell, and I eat it up because I can’t get enough of her.
“Who are you texting?” Micah asks, hopping over the board. “You’re smiling. It’s fucking weird.”
Shit. I power off the screen before he can see it. And then I hesitate. This is the part where I’m supposed to lie to him. I’m supposed to tell him it’s no one important or it’s nothing. But…I fucking can’t.
Not after what Wren told me about her almost dying when she was a kid. I understand him a whole lot better now. I get why he’s so fucking overprotective. He almost lost her, and he still blames himself. Hiding our relationship from him isn’t the way to solve the problem. I respect them both too fucking much to sneak around behind his back and cause more damage.
“Your sister,” I say, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible, fully aware that either he or she may kill me for this. But it has to be done. I’m not okay hiding her, and deep down, I know she isn’t okay with it either. Micah’s opinion matters to her, perhaps more than anyone else’s in the world.
“What the fuck?” He scowls at me, his expression dark. “You better be joking, you prick.”
“She texted to say she got pooped on at work.”
He stares at me for a long moment, the silence between us tense, broken only by the sound of sticks slamming against pucks on the ice. “What the fuck is going on between you and my sister?” he finally asks, his voice a soft growl. He’s pissed. Suspicious.
I married her while she was drunk in Vegas, and I don’t fucking regret it. I’m in love with her.
For a second, I think about telling him the whole truth, just spitting it out and letting the chips fall where they may. But…I can’t do that, either. Wren would never forgive me. Until she’s all in, ready to face him together, I can’t force it. If I try, I’m only going to force myself right out of her life. I can’t take that risk. I need time to convince her that telling him we got married is the right move.
But that doesn’t mean we have to hide us, either.
There’s a happy medium here, a fine line that may just be the only goddamn way forward for us. Or it may blow up in my face. I don’t know, but I won’t lie to him.
“I’m crazy about her,” I say quietly. It’s the understatement of all understatements. I fucking breathe for her. But he isn’t ready to hear that. One step at a time.
“Keep your goddamn hands off my sister, Archer. I’m not fucking around.”
“I get that you want to protect her, man. She deserves that. But she’s grown, Micah. She gets to decide for herself who she does or doesn’t want to be with.”
“Jesus Christ. You two are seeing each other?” He narrows his eyes on me. “Is that why you offered to take her gambling in Vegas? So you could sneak around behind my back?”