Page 61 of Wild Card 13

When Betsy finally rolled to a stop in front of my house, neither of us moved. The porch light glowed softly against the darkness. My parents' cars sat in the driveway.

Ty climbed out first. Then walked around to open my door before I could protest.

"Such a gentleman."

"I know."

"Your ego is exhausting."

"My best quality."

Together we walked up the front path. Our hands brushed. Then linked automatically.

At the front door, I turned toward him. Neither of us seemed particularly interested in saying goodnight. Ty tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture made my stomach flip. It was ridiculous how often that happened around him.

"Good luck tomorrow," I breathed softly.

His smile appeared immediately. "I have an A-minus."

I rolled my eyes. "You are never letting that go."

"Absolutely not."

Then he kissed me. Slow. Sweet. A kiss that felt less like fireworks and more like warmth. Like safety. Like home.

When he finally pulled back, neither of us moved very far.

His forehead rested lightly against mine. "See you tomorrow, Shortcake."

"See you tomorrow."

Ty smiled one last time before heading back toward the truck. I waited until he climbed inside before unlocking the front door. Then I stood there for a second. Watching the taillights disappear down the street.

The entire drive, I hadn't been Ezra Thomas's daughter. I hadn't been the responsible one. I hadn't been the girl trying to make everyone else happy.

I'd just been Lucy. And somehow, when I was with Ty, that felt like enough.

CHAPTER 7

LUCY

NOW

The Frosthawks plane felt more like a flying hotel than an airplane.

Wide leather seats stretched in pairs along both sides of the cabin. Warm red accent lighting glowed beneath polished wood panels. Somebody had already stolen three of the team blankets. Zee was currently spread across two seats he absolutely did not pay for, arguing with Marco about whether a hot dog technically qualified as a sandwich while Jonah sat across from them looking like a man reconsidering every life decision that had brought him here.

We were headed to New York. Big road game. National coverage.

The first trip after Alois won his court case and got cleared to return. Everybody had spent the last week talking about that. The media. The league. The suspension. The fake relationship circus that somehow had Alois and Bea traveling together looking one passive-aggressive comment away from committing homicide.

Normal stuff.

Frosthawks stuff.

I should have been focused on hockey.

Instead, I was halfway through a protein bar and pretending not to listen to Marco explain the proper way to flirt with flight attendants when the cabin door opened.