Page 92 of Rookie Season
“I hate hugs,” my brother declares, but he can’t hide his smile as I hug him close.
As Dad piles luggage into the trunk of my SUV, my mom squeezes my arm. “I’m excited to meet Fisher and Penn and especially Noah….” She lets his name dangle in the air, sentence unfinished, and I love how while I haven’t told her anything yet—I was waiting to introduce them in person—she has already worked everything out. Probably from my constant babbling about him every time she calls.
“We’re together,” I confirm with a smile. “He’s really excited to meet you guys.”
Mom looks delighted. “I did see that picture of him on social media with his nieces at that one game—you know, the picture you’re in—and he seems like such a nice boy.”
“Man,” I correct, because there is nothing boyish about Noah.
“Man,” Mom echoes happily. “My mistake.”
It’s going to be a good day.
When we walk into the Lions’ practice facility forty-five minutes later, Dad whistles in approval, and even Jamie looks impressed as he looks around him. I smile at the memory of my first date with Noah here as we make our way to the rink.
Fisher, Penn, and Noah are all on the ice with their teammates, skating drills. Penn sees us first, eyes bugging a little as he takes in my dad. He waves before poking Noah in the side to get his attention. Noah looks up and it’s almost painfully adorable how nervous he looks as he nods and smiles at my parents. Fisher, meanwhile, is staring at my young, pretty mom with his mouth practically hanging open.
“That’s them?” Mom asks, looping her arm through mine.
“My guys,” I confirm. “Well, my two guys and my man.”
“Well, let it be stated for the record, your man isveryhandsome.”
“Ridiculously so,” I agree.
“A very fine hunk of man,” Mom adds, then makes goo-goo eyes at Dad. “Just like your father.”
“Damn right,” Dad preens.
“Gross, you guys!” Jamie exclaims.
Mom throws her head back and laughs as we make our way to some nearby seats. It’s not super busy—several seats are filled sparsely with a few friends and family of players, what looks like a high school hockey team—who are studying the guys on the ice intently—and the Lions’ media team.
“I’m hungry,” Jamie whines as he flops down in one of the turquoise plastic chairs.
My dad rolls his eyes. “You ate your meal, half your mom’s meal, and the nice old lady in the seat beside you’s meal on the plane.”
“That was like, two hours ago.”
Dad looks at me, blue eyes sparkling with humor. “He’s a bottomless pit at the moment.”
“I can go get you some chips or something,” I offer. Noah gave me a tour of the facility last time we were here, and I know where the closest vending machines are.
“I want a Snickers bar. And a Mountain Dew. Oh, and Lays, barbecue flavor.”
“Anything else, sir?” I tease.
Jamie gives me the death glare. “I told you, I’m hungry.”
“Such a ray of sunshine.” Dad ruffles Jamie’s hair.
I hop out of my seat and make my way out of our row. I take the stairs two at a time, then turn the corner to walk towards the back hallways. It’s strangely quiet back here compared to the noise of the practice arena. Eerily so. I’m suddenly aware of how alone I am, then a cold stickiness that settles over my skin and makes me feel like I need a shower immediately.
“Well, well, well…fancy seeing you here.”
My blood goes cold at the sound of a familiar but chillingvoice. I turn around slowly and find myself face to face with Tyler Whelan.
“Allegra Callahan, you’re alive,” he says with a saccharine smile. I always used to like when he directed that smile at me. Now it makes me sick to my stomach. “We were all worried about you when you seemed to drop off the face of the planet like that, but it turns out you were just here in San Francisco, hanging out with our good friend Archibald.” Another cutting smile. “And getting cozy with his teammate.”
