Page 101 of Married to Number 22
God, I love this woman.
“Let’s go,” Frank says, tugging at John’s arm.
He shakes off his father. “No, I need?—”
“No,” Frank snaps. “Weneedto go.”
“Yes,” I say, stepping forward again, Smitty and Gray right beside me. “You need to go.”
John tries to stare me down.
Newsflash, that doesn’t fucking work.
So when Frank tugs at his arm again, he finally gives up the bravado and turns, following his father through the doors and back into the house.
“I’ll just make sure they leave,” Gray tells me quietly, his words still filled with deadly intent.
Not trusting myself to see to that—andkeep my hands to myself—I nod. “Thanks.”
He nods back and it’s curt.
Then he follows them into the house, Smitty and Joel on his heels.
I touch Luna’s cheek before our family closes ranks around us. “You okay, my tiny tornado?” I ask before we’re interrupted, needing the assurance from her before we deal with explanations and reassurances and…with all that’s my parents and siblings and teammates and…her newfound billionaire fairy godfathers.
“I’m okay.” Her lips kick up and when I open my mouth, she presses a finger to it, saying, “Because I have all of this.” She sweeps her hand around the party, everyone already doing their best to get over the interruption and back to the festivities.
Joel has come back outside and is passing out beers, my mom has Bri tucked close to her side again and is making her laugh, and Smitty…well, he waltzes out, gray on his heels, and loops his arm through my woman’s, dragging her to the makeshift stage and tempting her into a duet.
When I was traded to the Grizzlies from the Breakers, I didn’t know what my hockey future would look like.
The family I found in Baltimore was unique, special, impossible to create anywhere else?—
The music cranks on to an ear-piercing volume and I wince.
Then shake my head as Smitty and Luna begin belting out a boy band ballad.
But I do it smiling.
Because it turns out that if I find the right people, I can build a family that’s just as good here.
That’s maybe—somehow—even better I think as I look to Luna, who’s been drawn into singing, who’s already shaking off the bitterness of her family, her brightness shining through the huge smile on her face.
She’s fucking incredible, fuckingperfect.
Jean-Michel pats my shoulder and I manage to tear my gaze away from the beauty of my woman to see his eyes shining just as bright—only not with beauty.
With brutal challenge.
Like he can’t wait for the confrontation ahead.
“Oh, Aiden,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder again then jerking his chin at Jace, who nods back, his expression just as fierce, “I’m so glad we talked.”
He’sglad?
That whole scene was a fucking shit show.
And Istillwant to pummel someone.
