Page 117 of The Home Grown
“Bettsy tells me you’re going with him to the Team GB event next week? Looking forward to it?”
“Sure, yeah, it’ll be fun,” I say.
He nods. “Well, I need to get going but, yeah. Nice to meet you.”
Johnny moves away, his skates thudding on the rubber flooring as he goes.
And then there’s just Mike on the ice and a couple of the coaching staff in the far corner of the rink, heads together, deep in conversation.
“I’ll be in the training room if you need me to show you out,” Jen says, passing me on the bench.
Mike steps off the ice and moves in close.
“You’re okay, right?” he asks. “Do you need me to come with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” I say, not sure if I will be, but forcing myself to go along with it, anyway. “But I didn’t want to leave without seeing you. I wanted to say thank you. For being there for me last night. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he says.
I look down at the floor, focusing on the small pools of water from the pairs of skates as they left the ice.
“But I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Mike says.
“Of course.” I pause, listening to my heart pound steadily in my chest.
Before I realise what I’m doing, I’m pushing myself onto my tip-toes, not flinching at the sweaty smell coming from him—because I’m far from repulsed. In fact, there’s a heat that swarms my body and when my lips touch his, warmth spreads through me, deep and all-consuming. A clammy hand comes to rest on my cheek, igniting the fire further.
And when I pull away, his expression tells me I’ve surprised us both.
“I, uh—” He stumbles on his words, coming to a halt instead of continuing.
“I really like you,” I say.
And he kisses me again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
BETTSY
I’m exhausted.All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for days—weeks even. But I can’t. There’s too much going on and the desperation to hear from Ellie is intense.
Ever since she left the rink this morning, I’ve been checking my phone on the off-chance that I’ve missed a text or a call orsomething.
Has she spoken with Kathryn yet? What did she say? Did she get her money back? Because I swear to God, I’ll drive there tonight and have a word with her sister myself, if I have to.
But realistically, I can’t do that. Not if I want to keep my balls because Liam’s stag-do is a non-negotiable, even when it comes to errant sisters.
“Do you want another beer?” Hutch says from the sofa.
He’s lounging, nursing a beer while I iron both of our shirts; I’m leaning awkwardly over a far-too-low ironing board with a flowery cover—courtesy of my mother.
“Does a penalty box have walls?” I say before pressing my lips together as I hunch lower to attack a particularly stubborn crease.
Moments later, Hutch hands me a beer and I hand him his shirt, reaching for my own when there’s a knock at the door and since I’m busy, I don’t protest when Hutch disappears to answer it.
“It’s your sister,” he calls.
I wasn’t expecting Kelly.
