Page 111 of The Triple Play

“No ‘great set’?” She teased, giggling as she leaned into it, her eyes falling down to the phone. “No ‘wow, what a great new song?—’”

She blinked as she stared at the screen, her mouth falling open, her hand twitching around my phone case. I took it from her before she inevitably dropped it, her eyes wide and flicking between the three of us.

“That’s—” she started, cutting herself off.

“Yep.” Xavi grinned as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We saw it happen in real time.”

“Oh mygod,” she breathed. The bottom of her guitar hit the ground, and I grabbed for it, catching it before the whole thing could topple over. “That’s real? You’re not fucking with me? Please tell me you guys aren’t fucking with me.”

“Real as hell, sweetheart,” Colton murmured into her hair. “Cole’s already sent them your contact details. They want to talk to you.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her lips trembling like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You guys did this, didn’t you? Reached out earlier or something?—”

“Nope,” I cut in. I set her guitar down against the wall and took her face in my hands, Colton retreating just enough to let me. “You did this, darling.You.”

She couldn’t stop smiling. Even with her mascara smudging from the tears starting to fall, she was practically glowing. The chaos of everything else — the stress, the nausea, Elliot, her father, the lawsuit I was helping her build — was so far in the background right now that it was like none of it existed.

“I thought stuff like this happened to other people,” she said, her smile still big but her voice cracking.

Xavi snorted and took her hand in his. “You areother peoplenow.”

She took a deep, shaking breath. “What if they call me? Or email me? I’m so bad at being professional in emails. What if I say the wrong thing?” She squeezed Xavi’s hand, her other flitting about her face with her words. “What if I screw it up?”

“You won’t screw up anything.” I caught her wrist, stilling her, feeling the warmth of it beneath my fingertips. “Breathe, Annie. We’ll help you write an email if you’re that nervous about it.”

Xavi brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “I’msogood at writing emails.”

“You misspelled your ownnameon the injury form for your chin, like, three weeks ago,” Colton laughed, letting his chin come down and rest on Annie’s head.

Xavi’s gaze narrowed. “Spell check exists for emails. And I’m pretty sure I had a concussion.”

“You did not have a concussion,” I snorted.

“Guys, seriously,” Annie said, her eyes blinking too quick, her breathing a little stuttered. “I’m going to fuck this up. I canfeelit. How am I meant to focus on whatever this could mean when?—”

I knew what she meant. The mess with her dad, with Elliot, with her worry about money and the pregnancy, with the house feeling like a goddamn pressure cooker half the time because of it all, all the pieces of her life that she never asked to shatter, shattering anyway around her.

I held her cheeks a little more firmly. “Annie. Trust us when we say we’ve got everything else under control,” I said softly. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Stop spending so much time focusing on things that we can handle. My lawyer’s on the lawsuit to get the trust back in your name, we’ve got him ready to go in case anything goes to the press as well. Just focus on this.”

“But—”

“Cole’s right,” Colton murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She tilted it back, resting the back of her head on his chest, and I let her go, letting her look up at him. “All you need to worry about right now is landing this opportunity and growing our kid. Let us shoulder everything else.”

She swallowed, her throat working, her chin trembling a little. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Chapter41

Annie

The parking lot was almost empty, the kind of quiet that made the world feel suspended, like everything was either about to explode or exhale gently. I sat in my car with my fingers curled around my phone, staring down at the message from Colton in the group chat.

Colton: Come to the rink when you get off work. No questions. Hobby Lobby surprise.

When they’d told me there was a surprise, I hadn’t thought it would culminate in me being at Peach Arena at eleven o’clock at night. I thought they meant we’d have some weird arts and crafts date or something.

I cut the engine, grabbed my bag from the passenger seat, and made my way to the side entrance. One of the Zamboni drivers I recognized from coming to practice a handful of times was locking up, and he raised a hand as I approached.

“They’re still in the rink,” he said, flashing me a friendly grin. “Said to let you in.”

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