Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“No.” I give Chase a warning look. “It’s a word.”
“Ixnay?” He furrows his brow. “You’re getting hosed, Dad.”
“Challenge it,” Talia says gleefully.
“It means to nix something,” I tell my son.
“Nix?” He gives me a skeptical look.
I roll my eyes. “Moving on. It’s your turn.”
“I do accept unconditional surrenders,” Talia says.
“No one’s surrendering,” I say.
Lucien sits down at the table, a plate loaded up with pecan pie, a frosted brownie, and ice cream. “Does anyone have any idea where she gets her competitive streak? She’s cutthroat.”
“So weird,” Audra quips from the kitchen island.
I shrug. “I’ve never met a good hockey player who’s not competitive.”
“Can we watch one of your old games?” Chase asks.
I have every game I ever played or coached in a file on my computer, and I regularly back it up to a hard drive. I don’t know why I keep them; it’s not like I watch them.
“It’s a day off hockey,” Talia says. “Let’s watch a movie.”
“I vote for Elf,” Chloe calls out from the couch.
My phone buzzes from its face-down spot on the table. I pick it up and read the text.
Jules: I need to talk. Call me tonight if you have time.
I text back immediately, concerned.
Noel: Are you ok?
Jules: Yeah. Just call later if you can.
Noel: Of course I can. I’m finishing up a game. I’ll call you after.
Jules: We’re still cooking like peasants without a chef. Make it tonight. After 9.
Noel: I’d invite you over, but Audra’s staying here.
Jules: I understand.
Noel: Want to meet up somewhere to talk?
Jules: I can’t. I’ll explain later.
I frown at my phone, concerned. Is she sick or hurt?
Noel: Want me to drop by your place later?
Jules: Aren’t your kids there?
“Are we interrupting the drafting of your novel?” Talia asks, annoyed.
“Give me a second. Go get some pie or something.”
“I think Lucien ate all of it.”
“Geez,” he mutters. “Feeling the love at my first Turner family Thanksgiving.”
I return to my attention to my phone.
Noel: They’ll take off by eight. Audra’s going out with Lucien and Talia and some other players.
Jules: Okay, come over. It has to be after nine, though.
Noel: Text me the address. Happy Thanksgiving.
Jules: Happy Thanksgiving. See you tonight.
Jules: This isn’t me angling for sex. I really do need to talk.
I smile at my screen.
Noel: I know.
I put my phone back on the table, wondering what’s going on with her. A day off her usual crazy schedule may have given her the time to think about things and decide middle-of-the-night hookups with a man eighteen years older than her aren’t doing it for her anymore.
If she dumps me, I’ll take it like a man. She’s made me happier than I’ve ever been with a woman, but it’s not a real relationship, like she deserves.
It’s going to hurt like hell if she ends up falling for one of my players. I know we can’t last forever because she’s young and wants different things than I do. She probably wants marriage and kids, like many women her age do.
Could I survive seeing her pregnant with a mini Isaac? Just the thought gives me heartburn.
“Dad, do you want dessert?” Chloe asks me.
I exhale heavily, pushing my worries about Jules aside. “Yeah, but I’ll get it myself.”
Standing, I walk into the kitchen, where the kids are all talking and eating on the five desserts the chef made. It’s the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had. All my kids are here—even Audra, who plans to file for divorce from Kyle.
And there’s peace. No raging Angie losing her mind over place settings and wine choices. She always seemed to think the more people we had over for holidays, the more of a big deal she was.
I’ve always hosted my players without a place to go on Thanksgiving, but Carter and Suki offered up their home this year. I’m glad I had a year of just me and my kids.
And now I get to see Jules tonight, too. I just hope it’s not the last time I see her outside of work.
When Jules opens her front door that night around nine-thirty, she offers up a sad smile.
“Hey,” she says softly. “The boys are asleep upstairs. We can talk in my room.”
“Your place is great,” I say.
“Thanks.”
She’s wearing pink, silky-looking pajamas, her button-up top and pants matching, and a lightweight gray bathrobe. Her Grinch slippers complete the look and make me smile.
Her home is a beautiful, brick two-story in a nice subdivision right outside the city. The lots in the neighborhood all have immaculate landscaping, even with the trees bare in the cold of November.
The inside of the house feels like her, with touches of her family. In the large family room, a huge gray sectional has textbooks sitting on one cushion, a notebook and laptop next to them, and a few toy cars on an ottoman.
I can smell apple pie, and the decor looks like a Pottery Barn ad. It’s clean and cozy.