Page 126 of Rush the Edge

I don’t bother moving my attention from Kane while I answer one of them. “Oh yeah,” I joke. “That’s what every little girl dreams of…being a mascot when they grow up.”

Everyone laughs.

My brother swoops in to vaguely explain the situation, leaving my Lupus diagnosis out of it, which landed me in this position, but I tune him out and watch the game. Kane is fierce on the ice. He always has been, but as a man with much more control of his body, he weaves in and out of clusters of players, shooting down the ice quickly.

The goal buzzer sounds again, and my jaw drops.

Is he serious?

Another goal?

My lips curve from the sight of his smile. His teammates meet him at center ice and clap him on the back. Warmth settles into my belly. It isn’t often that Kane looks genuinely happy, but when he does, all feels right in the world. My world.

One of my brother’s friends…Tom or Tim…Ted?...comes into my sight, blocking my view of the ice. He asks me how I’m liking Chicago. I quickly move to see the game and answer him blindly, not really paying much attention to the conversation. My sights are glued to Kane, who heads to the bench. He talks to Malaki before they both swing their sights on me.

My stomach lurches.

Kane’s lip curves with the crook of his eyebrow.

Yeah, yeah. I know. You got two goals.

He winks at me, and my face warms.

The guy to my left is still chatting away, but instead of continuing the conversation, my teeth sink into my bottom lip as I try to hide my smile. Kane jerks his chin and gives me a questionable look. It takes me a second to realize that he’s silently asking me who the guy is beside me.

“A friend,” I mouth.

Kane glares, and the thought of him being jealous twists something dangerous in my lower stomach. I know I shouldn’t push the limits any further with him, but it’s too fun not to. While keeping his attention, I reach over and grab onto Tim’s arm to cease his endless talking.

“It was really nice to meet you, Tim,” I say with a smile.

From across the ice, I’m sure it looks like flirting. But anyone in the near vicinity knows that I just shut Tim down as nicely as possible, considering he was still in the middle of a conversation.

My brother snorts.

“It’s Ted.” Tim—I mean,Tedcorrects me, and I wish I felt bad.

“Told you not to hit on my sister,” River jokes. “You’re not her type.”

I crinkle my brow. “And whatismy type?”

River taps his chin a few times. “Cocky, arrogant, athletic?—”

My heart races.

“Blond hair.”

Is he describing Kane on purpose?

Does he know?

Better question…does he care?

“So assholes? Great,” Ted mumbles.

“That’s not true,” I blurt.

Kane isn’t an asshole.

---