Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Wow. Kipson not only bared his heart, he ripped the whole bloody thing wide open and dared me to judge the shredded pieces. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, especially from a man like him.
I want to return the share, but I hesitate. “How destructive are you?”
“I mean, I’m not a danger to myself or others if that’s what you’re asking,” Kipson scoffs.
I’m glad to hear it, but I shake my head. “Are you angry enough with the team—and with me specifically”—I arch a brow meaningfully—“to let an innocent woman be collateral damage of your destructiveness? One who has already been hurt too many times in her life?”
He recoils, disgusted. “No, of course not.”
This could go horribly wrong. I know that down to my soul. But if I have any chance at saving Kipson—for his own good, not because it’s supposed to be some team directive—I have to be honest with him. This isn’t team building. This is brotherhood building. And whether he likes it or not, Kipson is my brother. Or he’s gonna be.
I take a big breath, praying I’m doing the right thing. “I’m not fucking Briar Johns.”
It’s technically the truth. I’m not merely fucking her. I’ve fallen for her, but even so, it feels like a lie. A lie told for a good cause is still a lie. My mom gave me that nugget of wisdom as a kid and it’s stuck with me. It echoes in my mind again now.
“Fuck you, Lee.” We’re back to that old favorite.
“I’m not done,” I say, pinning him with a look. “I’m not fucking her. I’m in love with her.”
“You’re what?” he barks, jerking forward and leaning across the table. But he looks left and right like someone might’ve overheard me. I glance around, too, but don’t see anyone of importance. Notably Coach.
Seeing the shocked look on his face . . . hell, feeling the shock in my chest . . . I start to smile. “I haven’t actually said that aloud yet. But yeah, I’m in love with Briar.”
“Stop saying that,” he orders. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling like he’s hoping to find divine intervention there, he finally declares, “You are so much stupider than I thought.”
“What?”
“I thought you were fucking her. For fun or to get back at Coach or some shit. I didn’t know you were . . .” The words come as one stream of consciousness until he runs a hand over his mouth, stopping them. “Coach is going to murder you. Literally. Or at the minimum, your career is over. Up in flames, poof, never taking the ice again. There’s no way he’s going to let you date Briar. And this isn’t his usual ‘hockey first’ thing. It’s his daughter, man.” He’s glaring at me as if I don’t know that.
“Not sure he has any room to say shit to anyone about priorities,” I snap back. “He might be a good coach, but he’s an awful father. He basically neglected her for her entire life.”
“She’s still his daughter. Automatically makes her off-limits.” Kipson shakes his head. “He’s going to cut your fucking hamstring with a skate and beat you senseless with a stick when he finds out.”
Graphic, but also, likely accurate given Coach’s leadership style.
“I know,” I finally reply. “Still won’t change my mind.”
I’ve been avoiding this, even in my own mind. At first, I didn’t care because the Blizzard wasn’t really my team anyway. I was here to fix Kipson and get the hell out of Dodge. But as the guys have become my friends, my brothers, I do care about them, and I’ve set a ticking time bomb in the middle of everything. When Coach finds out, he’ll be the one to light the fuse, but it’ll be my fault all the same. I’ll be the reason that everything I’ve worked to build here is brought to ruins again. I hate that, but I love Briar more.
“Damn, Lee,” Kipson groans as he sits back. “You sure know how to fuck things up, don’t you?” He says it as though it’s a compliment, and under normal circumstances, I’d take it as one. But I feel like I’m on the edge of a black void, inching my toes closer with every decision I make, but this time, I’m not the only one who’ll fall in. I’ll take Briar and Harley with me.
“Guess so.” I shrug.
“You really love her?”
“Yep, I really do. You gonna tell Coach?” I pause, beer poised at my mouth.
His brows knit together. “To what end?”
“Destruction?” I suggest, reminding him that he said that’s what he wants. “Could be fun, you know? Shake things up, get everyone arguing and fighting again, a little drama for the ’gram?” I don’t want any of that. I want the good-natured taunts, the text check-ins, the friendship the guys and I have built. But does Kipson?