Page 27 of Over the Line

“I know, right? Four hockey players, all so drunk they can barely see straight, explaining how, ‘no, officer, I swear, he threw it back but it wouldn’t leave us alone!’”

Fuck me, he was so pretty when he laughed.

“Oh, man,” he said, unaware of my brain short-circuiting. “That would’ve been hilarious.”

“The best part would’ve been my buddy’s wife—who’d been driving the boat and was our D.D. for the day—rolling her eyes and saying, ‘no, really, they’re dumb and drunk, but they are telling the truth.’”

And I was suddenly racking my brain in search of any other funny fishing stories just so I could make him laugh that hard.

“What did you tell him, Saints?” Chris’s voice turned my head as he and Temo came back into the lounge. “You weren’t telling him about Temo doing karaoke, were you?”

“Hey!” Temo had to reach up to do it, but he managed to cuff the back of Chris’s head. “Shut up, rookie.”

“What?” Chris showed his palms. “You’re bad at karaoke.”

Temo huffed and dropped into the chair next to mine. “Eat a dick, Kanes.” Then his eyes locked on Garrett, and he stiffened. “Oh. Uh. Sorry, I⁠—”

“No, no.” Garrett put up his hands, mirroring his son’s gesture. “You’re all adults.”

All three of us wobbled our hands in the air and murmured, “Ehh” and “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Garrett just chuckled, and we all hung out while Temo and Chris finished their food. I was kind of glad they were back. I needed to reclaim my equilibrium.

In fact, this was the perfect chance for me to politely bow out so I could get the hell out of here and catch my damn breath. Which was exactly what I did.

I only made it halfway back to the locker room, though, before Chris jogged after me.

“Oh, hey, Saints?”

I turned around. “Hmm?”

He halted, the uneasy expression on his face making him seem even younger than he was. Gesturing over his shoulder, he timidly asked, “Do you mind if my dad tags along on Thanksgiving?”

My stomach flipped but I recovered. “Oh. Sure, of course! The invite is for any family in town.”

He exhaled, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, cool. I just wanted to be sure. I’ll let him know!”

I smiled my best smile, grateful for years of practice hiding my emotions from cameras and microphones.

My young teammate left, and I released my breath.

So Garrett was in Pittsburgh now. Living in Pittsburgh. He’d be coming to practices and games in an effort to reconnect with his son.

And next week, he’d be at my place for Thanksgiving.

Which meant I either needed to get a goddamned grip…

Or I was going to be a train wreck for the rest of this hockey season.

CHAPTER 9

GARRETT

Thanksgiving arrived the week after I’d moved into my apartment. Chris’s whole team was invited to their captain’s house for dinner, and that invitation apparently included me. Far be it from me to say no; I hardly had anywhere else to go, and it was a chance to spend the holiday with my son and daughter-in-law-to-be.

And let’s be real—I also wouldn’t say no to spending that holiday ogling Liam.

Chris picked me up early in the afternoon and drove Jasmine and me out to Sewickley—specifically its bougier side that was apparently called Sewickley Heights—which was where a lot of his teammates lived. The house was tucked back in the forested hills, and it seemed like we’d driven out into the middle of nowhere before Chris turned up a steep, mossy driveway lined with parked cars. That driveway wound even deeper into the dense trees before letting out in front of an enormous brick house.