Page 83 of Broken Hearts
My heart flutters.I think I love you too.
* * *
The driveto Kansas City for the Frozen Four takes two days. Ginny’s dad has to hate us by now. We’ve taken over his radio and the excitement for the upcoming games has us all loud and giggly.
When we pull into the hotel parking lot, he checks us in while we load up the luggage onto a trolley. We brought enough bags to stay a week instead of the three days the tournament runs. Mr. Scott lets out a long breath and stretches. “I’m assuming you girls have plans for dinner?”
“We’re going to crash the team dinner,” she says, holding her hand out for the room key.
“I’ll be at the hotel bar if you need me. Tell Adam to stop by and see his old man later.”
Ginny kisses his cheek. “Can you take up the bags? We’re already late.”
He shakes his head. “Have fun, girls.”
The team is at a local restaurant next door to the hotel. Allison calls as we’re about to walk in. There’s a small waiting area between the doors and hostess stand.
I hang back. “It’s my sister. I should answer. I’ll meet you guys in there.”
“I’ll save you a seat,” Dakota says.
“Hey,” I answer, holding the phone in front of my face.
“Save me. Dad’s decided to get in shape and wants me to run around the neighborhood with him while he listens to nineties music from a speaker which he carries while we run. Why can’t he just use headphones like a normal person?”
“Because then you couldn’t share the experience together.” I laugh, but there’s a little twinge of sadness. I haven’t seen my family in a few months and that never seems to get easier.
“Where are you? Out to eat with your friends? You can call me later.”
“Yes, but not in Valley.”
“Where are you?”
“Okay, don’t freak out, but I’m in Kansas City.”
Her brow furrows. “What’s in…” Her mouth falls open. “No!”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Oh my gosh. I hate you. You’re at the Frozen Four, really?” There’s a whine to her tone. “What are you doing there?”
“I came with some friends.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Her gaze narrows. “You don’t like hockey that much.”
“I’m dating a hockey player,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry. What was that?” Allison has some serious sass when she wants to, and right now—she wants to.
“I’m dating a hockey player.”
She’s grinning. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess which one.” She puts a finger to her chin. “Adam Scott.”
“No way.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t sound so offended. He’s cute.”
“He’s dating one of my friends.”
