Page 94 of Revenge Puck

“Hey,” she says in greeting as she tosses the throw pillows back on the sofa. “I’m not even going to complain about the mess this morning because Finley had so much fun last night.”

“Good,” I say, since I’m not in the mood to hear her griping.

“I like Elle. She’s so sweet. She’s perfect for you, isn’t she?”

“She is, but…” I rub the back of my neck, thinking of the next conversation I’m going to have to have with her.

“But what?”

“I don’t know how this will work with her in North Carolina and I could end up anywhere.” I intentionally don’t mention California to my sister until it’s a done deal with signatures on the page.

“If it’s meant to be, then you two will figure it out.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Speaking of the future,” Maya starts. She flops down onto the sofa cushion and pats the seat next to her for me to sit, which I take. “I think…I think I may want to stay here with Finley if you have to move.”

Nodding, I tell her, “I understand. Even if it sucks.” If Maya doesn’t want to relocate, then that gives me one less thing to worry about, I guess.

“We’ll miss you like crazy, but there’s no telling if you’ll have to up and change teams again in a year or two. I don’t want to keep relocating Finley once he starts kindergarten in the fall.”

“I know. I get it. I wouldn’t want to upset him with so many changes.”

“That still doesn’t solve one of the biggest changes—not having you around.”

“I’ll visit as often as I can,” I promise her. “And you two can come to the weekend games, right?”

“Right. We’ll figure it out, just like you and Elle will.”

I know Maya’s words are meant as encouragement. It has the opposite effect.

Between hockey and finding time to see Maya and Finley, that won’t leave much time for Elle, and I fucking hate it.

33

Elle

“Hey, I’m almost ready!” I call out to Preston from the back when I hear the jingle of the front door opening. Then I step into the salon and find the last person I expected to see.

“Christian?” As always, he looks like the good ole golden boy next door, not a blond hair out of place, his jeans and tee just a little snug to show off his lean, muscular frame. “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“I fucked up,” he says with a shrug, his hands sliding into his front pockets.

“Ah, what?”

The hot shot stands there in my empty salon, portraying the picture-perfect definition of humble. I didn’t even know he was familiar with the word.

“I’m sorry about showing up at Preston’s the other night.”

I cross my arms over my chest when I remember him strolling up to the porch like he owned it with his twoteammates, trying to start shit to get Preston arrested. “You shouldn’t have done that. If you all had got into a fight…”

“I know. It could’ve landed us all in jail and out of the championships. I went too far.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I just wanted to see you and talk to you since you blocked my damn calls and messages.”

“Blocking your texts should’ve made it clear that I don’t want to see or talk to you, just like my previous texts before that specifically told you that, which you ignored.”

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