Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Ahfuckbuddy.
Coach: Jeannot.
That’s all, just my last name.
Kill me now.
Coach: Call me.
I clear my throat. “Excuse me, it’s my coach. Sorry.”
Quinn waves me off, and I fully expect him and Ava to converse, but that would involve her actually uttering words to him.
I don’t like her.
Ignoring my distaste, I dial Coach’s number. “Are you trying to kill me? I swear, just the mention of your name makes my blood pressure go up.”
I pause. “I would never do such a thing, and I apologize for your blood pressure. Can I get you some Cheerios? I hear that helps.”
Quinn snorts as Coach seethes. “These next 182 days can’t go fast enough, Jeannot.”
So, 182 days, huh? That’s how long I have to convince Cameron I’m the one for her.
I shouldn’t feel giddy, when I’m pretty sure my coach is about to rip me a new one.
“I should have known when tickets for tonight sold out that you had something to do with it,” he says dryly. “Now, I’m on the BullieBoards, watching you flirt and show out like the pain in my ass you are.”
“But the game sold out. That’s a good thing.”
“But not for us, for you and your romance with Cameron White. Who the hell is that? And God please, don’t tell me it’s the gymnast because I don’t want to deal with her coach. He’s super possessive over his gymnasts.”
When I don’t say anything, he yells my name, so I explain, “Coach, you told me not to say she was the gymnast, and since I’m worried about your blood pressure, I’m trying to do what you ask.”
I’m met with silence for a moment. “You’re going to put me in an early grave. Not my own damn kid. You, Benson Jeannot.” I press my lips together not to joke around, not to piss him off more. “I should bench your ass.”
“For flirting?” I ask incredulously.
“For being a pain in my ass. You need to be focusing on grades and upping your game, not girls.”
“She’s a woman.”
“Jeannot!”
“Sorry.”
“You will not make a spectacle of my sport.”
“So, don’t score a hat trick?”
“No, Benson, score a fucking hat trick because I like goals. But don’t be throwing pucks or blowing kisses or flirting at the rink. Leave that shit off my ice, you hear me?”
I press my lips together. I fully planned on doing all that. Shit.
“Yes, sir.”
When the phone goes dead, I let out a laugh as Quinn looks over at me. “You know Jayden will kill you dead.”
I laugh harder. I always forget that he grew up with Coach since Jayden Sinclair used to play with the Nashville Assassins, which is where Quinn’s dad played and is the team his mom owns. “I know. I’ll need to stop and grab him some Cheerios on the way to the rink.”
“You’re a tyrant.”
I nod with no shame whatsoever. “I am.”
I notice that Ava is on her phone, in no way showing us a lick of attention. Quinn pushes his seat back. “Excuse me. I need to piss.”
“Classy, Quinn,” she mutters, and he doesn’t react. What the hell? If Emery said that, he would have licked her or something so unclassy, we all would have laughed. When my boy is almost to the bathroom, I find myself watching Ava as she clicks through her phone. She must feel my gaze because she looks up. Her brows come in, and she presses her lips together for a moment before asking, “Yes?”
I nod. “Just thinking. Trying to figure this out.”
“This?”
“What is going on between you and my brother?”
Her eyes narrow. “You two are hardly brothers.”
“Maybe not by blood, but by bond, we are.” She has nothing to say to that, and I know if she says something to Quinn, he’s gonna chew my ass. But I can’t hold back. I have to know. “Has he told you about Emery?”
“I am well aware of Emery.”
“You are?”
“Yes, but that has nothing to do with what Quinn and I have decided.”
“Decided?” Huh?
Her lips press into a straight line and way too casually for my liking, she says, “I mean how in love we are.”
I scrunch up my face, and I know I shouldn’t say this, but I need her to know. “I have it on good authority that he still loves her.”
“He does,” she says simply. “But that is none of your business—or even your place to say that to me. What happens between Quinn and me is between us. You’re his friend. I am his soon-to-be wife. Don’t forget that.”
Now I press my lips together and find that I’m glaring at her. “Is that a threat?”
“Doesn’t need to be.” Her eyes bore into mine. “If anything, it’s a reminder. Let us be, and out of respect for Quinn, don’t bring up Emery around me again. He is better off without her.”
She may be right, but I don’t like it at all. Maybe it isn’t my place to comment on, but something doesn’t feel right here.