“And yet you thank me by kissing my sister,” he points out. “Remember that?”
Groaning, I slap my hand to my forehead. “Travis. Man. I am so sorry, I don’t know what happened…”
“I do.” He chuckles. “And look, I’m only kidding, but I meant what I said yesterday. She’s still my little sister, and if you do anything that hurts her, I will have to step up and do my brother job.”
“I get it.” Tracing a tiny path through Posh’s coat, I stare out the bedroom window. “She’s really cool, and I can’t explain why, but I’m pulled to her. Like a magnet.”
“Okay, I don’t need to hear about any of this,” he says, but for some reason, I feel the need to explain myself.
“I can’t call it insta-love, ‘cause I don't know if that’s what it is, but there are some insta-feelings happening that I’ve not had before.”
“Don’t you have some girls who are friends you can talk to about this?” he asks.
I love when Travis gets uncomfortable. I may be a wall of hidden emotion, but with me, the well runs deep and when I’m ready to let you see that side of me, I’m an open book. But Travis? He’s pent-up. After meeting his mother, I’m starting to understand where he gets it from.
“You’re the closest I have right now,” I say, laughing. “But I am going to call Henry to see how things are at the Renegades. Feel him out for what the other guys are saying.”
I can almost see Travis’s pleased expression now. Pleased that I changed the subject and super pleased I’m reaching out to my old teammates.
“Love that. I’m talking to the assistant coach today and he’s going to let me know what day you’re back on the roster. I have a feeling they want to keep it quiet, then spring it on the local fans a day or two before your first game back. I bet the ticket sales go off.”
He’s quiet for a moment before continuing, “Look, when it comes to Riley, I’m always going to be a little bit protective, but she is her own woman now. She’s been hurt before, and as her family, we can’t stand to see that pain. But smiling Riley is another story, and my parents have said that she’s doing more of that lately than she has in a long time. She’s our sunshine, Jake. Got it?”
This is for sure the closest thing I’m going to get in the way of having permission to do anything with his sister. There’s a warm feeling inside of me, an acceptance that eases fears I didn’t know I had.
“Loud and clear.” Clearing my throat, I glance at the clock on the dresser across the room and hop out of bed. “I need to hit the rink to do some drills. Should I check in later?”
“Nah, I’ve got it. I’ll reach out if I have anything for you. But call Henry, and be good to my sis.”
Disconnecting the call, I throw on an old pair of sweats and my Renegades zip-up hoodie as I grab my bag of equipment and gear. Sliding my phone in my pocket, I slip downstairs for breakfast so I can grab a bite and head out.
It’s quiet in the Richards house, which means I can move at my pace and not engage. It also gives me time to look at the family photos on the wall, most especially the ones of Riley in various poses: from her high school graduation (where she’s surrounded by a ton of people, including Levi and Austin), to what looks like a new car. There’s more with various family members and tons of her and Travis, signaling the closeness of these two that I already knew.
The thought of their family unit and the love it provides makes me happy inside. and for once, not jealous of what someone else has as far as a home life. Seeing the interactions here with the Richards makes me realize that while it was only Dad and I growing up, he did his best to make sure I never felt alone.
Grabbing a bowl from a kitchen cabinet, I fling open the pantry door and step inside, only to shiver as the memory of her lips on mine, right here in this small space, not that long ago, floods back.
All I know is that I’m ready for a repeat.
Sitting by the concession stand at the arena, I’m about to tuck into one of Riley’s world-famous in Sweetkiss Creek croissants when my phone rings. Seeing Henry’s name flash on the screen, I make sure to grab it instantly.
“I’m glad you called,” I say between bites.
“When you wake up to a text that says ‘we need to talk’ you make time out to call one of your oldest friends,” he says. “Are the rumors true, December? Freedom ain’t nothing ‘cause you’re missing us?”
Yes, I’m with it enough to know he’s misquoting some of Taylor Swift’s lyrics my way. Trust me, the Swifties that come to my games LOVE it when I’m on the ice. Only because they always play “Back to December” when I come out. I can only imagine how often it’ll get airtime in the arena now, once I am back.
“Funny thing happened on the way to the NHL. I realized that you guys were the wind beneath my wings, and this little birdie can’t fly without ya.”
Henry groans. “Oh, good one. While it’s great to hear your voice, the dad jokes are gonna get old quick.” He laughs. “So, you’re back for the last few games. Are you ready?”
“I’m still waiting for the exact days I need to be there, but it sounds like it’s any day.”
“Well, if you need a place to crash, mi casa is su casa. I’ve already made up the spare bedroom for you.”
“Really?”
“In total anticipation,” he teases. “No. I actually haven’t, but I will. You sold your old place, right?”
