Page 96 of Delayed Penalty

And that’s all I’ll ever be.

“Pickles!”

I whip my head toward the ice and watch in horror as Flora flails around, chasing after a small black kitten that’s slipping and sliding across the ice.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Hayes voices my thought out loud, skating after them both.

Everyone scrambles to get out of the way, all watching the frenzied scene in front of us unfold. I run to the edge of the ice, snatching up the kitten just as it tries to run off.

“Pickles, what the hell are you doing here?” I ask, snuggling the frightened animal close.

“Flora, what the…” Hayes says, catching up to her as she stops in front of me. “Where did Pickles come from?”

“My pocket.” She points to the front pocket of her hoodie.

“You had her in there the whole time?”

She nods. I thought her pocket looked heavy, but I just figured it was stuffed with snacks or toys or a book, not a damn kitten. I guess I should have known,though. She carries the little thing everywhere with her. Of course she’d want to bring her to the rink today.

“Where did you…” Hayes shakes his head. “Where did you even get the idea to bring her with you?”

Flora points across the ice, right at the guy standing with his arm around Rory. “Uncle Lawson told me I could!”

“Lawson!” Hayes growls, skating after him, and for the second time during family skate day, the guys have to wrestle someone off Lawson, Coach Smith getting right in the middle of it.

I stand on the sidelines watching it all go down.

Just like I always do.

Just like I always will.

CHAPTER 19

HAYES

“This has to be the worst idea I’ve ever had, and I’m sleeping with my nanny.”

“Hey, I happen to thinkbothideas are good.”

I hold up my scratched and bloody hand. “Tell that to Coach Smith, who is going to have some serious questions when I roll into practice tomorrow all banged up.”

“Just tell him the truth—you suck at building.”

“I don’t suck,” I say through clenched teeth as I try to pry free the nail I put in crooked as shit.

Sunday Funday at the Park with Just Quinn and Flora the Little Flower has become one of Flora’s favorite days, and since I’m hardly ever able to make it there to hang out with them, I got a wild hair up my ass and thought it would be a good idea to bring thepark here. So, I’ve been spending this cloudy, cold November day building a playset in the backyard.

Sure, I could have had it delivered already assembled, but when I saw the salesman flirting with Quinn, I got pissed and told him to skip the sales pitch, then declared I could build it myself.

I was wrong. I’m four hours into this, I’m not even halfway done, and Flora gets home from school in two hours.

“Just take a deep breath.” Quinn inhales steadily. “Then let it go.”

I do as she says, but as expected, it does nothing to calm me down. I pick the hammer back up and channel all my frustration into getting the damn crooked nail out. When it finally pops free, I toss the hammer across the lawn and lie back, drained from the world’s saddest playset build.

Quinn crawls across the grass next to me, laying her head on my chest.

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