I can’t. If I don’t leave now, I never will and the family will make this into a big deal. To be frank, I think it is a big deal, this thing blooming between us, but it’s too soon to tell. And if I’mgoing to be disappointed, I want to do it without an audience. It’s bad enough my family has to watch my career humiliation unfold, they don’t get a front seat to my personal life. So I break the kiss and slide slowly back away from her and off the island.
She rights herself too and we both square our shoulders on either side of the island. “I’ll text you.”
She nods as I walk backward toward the door. I turn to grab my jacket off the living room floor. She watches my every move as I shove my feet into my boots and shrug into my jacket. "Merry Christmas, princess."
"Merry Christmas to you, but I'm no princess," she argues back softly.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I open her front door. “You’re a fucking queen. And I will worship you again anytime. Just say the word.”
And then I step through her front door and close it behind me. Because I’m not brave enough to see her reaction to that offer.
Chapter 17
Conner
Iwake up on December twenty-seventh because my phone starts blowing up with phone calls and text alerts and message pings at seven in the morning. Guess the Barons didn’t waste one second announcing I was waived. I send Mac a quick text.
D Day. Turning off my phone for my own mental health. Be in touch later.
Then I turn my phone off. If Clark has news, he can call my family’s home line because we still have one of those and he’s one of the few people who know the number.
I get out of bed and throw on sweats and socks and make my way through the quiet house. I can only assume, since the sun is barely up, that everyone is still asleep. But when I head downstairs and make my way to the kitchen I figure out how wrong I was. Callie and Aunt Jessie are at the coffee machine, making one latte after the other, like veteran Starbucks baristas. My dad is sitting at the island holding a coffee and staring intently at his phone. Theo, Grady, and Tate are spread out on the sofas in the family room, glued to the sports channel onthe seventy-five-inch television. Tenley, Shelby, Mae, and Liv are sitting on the vibrant throw rug, gathered around a laptop they've propped up on an ottoman.
“TSN says that there’s been interest by Vegas and Los Angeles,” Liv announces.
“I can call my coach and ask,” Tate replies.
“He won’t tell you anything,” Uncle Luc reminds him from where he’s sitting at the kitchen table with Uncle J and Aunt Rose. “Legally, they can’t.”
“They didn’t even tell me when they were negotiating to get Jordan traded to play with me and Luc,” my dad pipes in, eyes still glued to his phone. He takes a sip of his black coffee. “Twitter says he’s going to the farm team for sure.”
“Twitter is full of fat old men who can’t qualify for a beer league. Their opinions mean less than nothing,” Aunt Rose announces, which almost makes me smile because she is never salty. She’s always honey, never vinegar. “I will never cheer for the Barons again. If they retire your jersey, Luc, I’m not going to the ceremony.”
“T’enquiette,Fleur,” Uncle Luc says and gives her a smile. “We need to present a calm front for Con.”
“A little too late for that.” Every person, in both rooms, swivels their heads to see me standing in the doorway from the hall.
"Morning honey!" Callie walks over and hugs me. I don't hug her back. She hugs me harder and then she kisses my cheek. "Hug me back or I'll never let go. You know how this works."
I sigh and wrap my arms around her to give her a quick squeeze. It does actually help a little but I still untangle myself from her as soon as I can. Aunt Jessie is right behind her but I sidestep her as she extends her arms. "I don't want a bunch of sympathy hugs Aunt J. No offense."
She gives me a sad smile. “Fine. I’ll save it and turn itinto a congratulatory hug for when you get picked up by a team way better than those asshole Barons.”
“The team owners are still solid people,” Uncle Jordan argues. “It’s the coaching staff that needs to be gutted. And that GM. I knew when they hired Chance Echolls to be their general manager it would all be downhill and it has been."
“Not all Echolls are assholes,” Tate says and his green eyes are sheepish. “Mallory is awesome.”
“Yeah well they should have made her GM,” Liv replies. “But they didn’t so fuck the Barons and the Echolls and the hockey sticks they rode in on.”
“Besides,” Mayhem adds. “You only like Mallory because you were banging her best friend for two summers.”
“Mallory is best friends with Diana?” Callie asks. “Are you going to be bed buddies with her again this summer? I’m not sure I like her.”
“Can we not talk about my son’s sex life?” Uncle Jordan asks.
"Sex lives are a healthy part of life, Big Bird," Callie retorts. She's been calling Uncle Jordan that since they were teens apparently. He always gets a sour look on his face when she uses it. "They're all in their twenties. I'm more worried when they don't have a sex life…Livvy.”
“Mom! God!” Liv blurts out and every exposed inch of her skin turns bright red.