Page 50 of Outlaw Heartstrings
“Wow, that wassocool,” the little boy mutters, eyes transfixed to the YouTube video of his father in action on the ice. “Can we watch another one?”
“Of course, Little Man.” I see the pride that flashes across Easton’s face as he scrolls around with the remote, searching for another hockey clip to show off to his son. “This is a good one.” Easton nods as a new video starts to play. “One of my signature moves.”
Ever since the shock of learning that Easton is his father wore off, Jagger has been nothing but affectionate with the big tower of a man. While the two of them sit hip-to-hip on the couch facing the TV, I curl up in an armchair off to the side. I’m supposedly reading the novel I brought along with me tonight. Well, I’m pretending to. But my eyes keep getting drawn back to the two adorable men as they bond.
My attention shifts to the screen just in time to see Easton stealthily stealing possession of the puck from a Mountaineers wingman. The men glide around the ice, their sticks battling for control of the puck. But Easton is too clever. He tricks the opposing player into thinking he’ll skate left. Instead, he swerves to the right and sends the puck off to Ronan who executes a powerful slap shot. The puck rockets straight into the net.
Jagger’s arms fly up in the air and he lets out a shrill cheer. “Whoa! How did you do that?” he asks his father, his eyes twinkling.
Easton just shrugs. “First, you distract the opposing player. You charge at him from one direction, getting him to shift the puck to the other side of his body to protect it—you’ve got to anticipate that he’ll do that. But once the puck is in a vulnerable position, you swoop your stick right in behind him and you steal the puck from him.”
Easton spills his biggest game secrets and Jagger hangs onto every word and my heart overflows at the sight of them, chatting together like the very best of friends.
I did the right thing tonight. Telling Jagger about Easton being his father was the right thing.
It’s not something I wanted to have to do—especially not before hearing Raya’s side of the story—but now that the truth is out in the open, I’m confident that I made the best decision, given the cards I’ve been dealt.
On the screen now, Easton and the Saints are celebrating the goal they just scored. The crowd is going wild. The camera zeros in on Easton in particular.
Jagger turns to his father, head tilted to the side. “What’s that thing you do sometimes at the end of a good play? That thing you do with your hands?” Jagger lifts both palms infront of his face, fingers spread wide. Then he slowly drags his hands apart, making a scratching motion. “What does it mean?”
Easton clears his throat, quickly casting a glance in my direction. I drop my eyes back to my book, but not before he catches me staring.
“It means ‘tiger’ in American Sign Language,” Easton tells Jagger, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
“Tiger?” Jagger echoes.
Easton hesitates, and then he says, “When I was leaving to go play hockey, your aunt Alba asked me to make up a secret hand signal. A way to say ‘hello’ whenever I’d be on TV. That’s the signal I came up with. Because my nickname for her used to be ‘Tiny Tiger’.” He gives a little shrug.
“Really?” Jagger giggles. “Why did you call her Tiny Tiger?”
“Because she’s tiny. Duh”—Easton smirks at me and I grunt in response—“and because she’s one of the fiercest, strongest, bravest women I know. Just like my mom, actually.”
Jagger smiles, his gaze traveling between Easton and me. “That’s really cool. I like that you and Mimi were friends growing up.”
Easton nods. “Yeah. I like it, too.”
This time, when our eyes connect, I don’t look away. We smile at each other.
The truth is, I liked being Easton’s friend. Actually, I’m starting to realize that what we had was always more than just a friendship. I had a crush on him. A teeny tiny crush. A crush I was never able to acknowledge because of the circumstances at the time. A crush that’s even more taboo now because of the circumstances between us today.
A crush I need to get out of my mind.
I need to put an end to the sneaky glances between us. I need to stop the electric current that shocks my tummy each time his skin touches mine. And more than anything, no more kisses. Definitely, no more kisses.
I give my head a firm shake and bring my attention to Jagger. “Hey, you know your dad and I had a special handshake back in the day?”
His eyes light up. “You did?”
“Yup.” Easton bobs his head up and down.
Jagger pops up onto his knees on the couch, his eyes darting between the two of us. “Can you teach me?”
“Oh my gosh. I’m pretty sure I don’t remember it.” I snort a laugh.
Easton cups a hand around his mouth and whispers to Jagger. “She used to mess up our handshakeallthe time.”
I throw my head back, laughing some more. “Oh come on! I wasn’t that bad.”
