Page 28 of Hot Shot

I swipe the tears off my cheeks. “Stupid Evan.”

“Brendan and I had a party celebrating when your divorce was final.”

That pulls a small laugh out of me. “Figures. Y’all never liked him.”

“He was a spineless ass with bad hair and a tiny dick.”

“How did you know about that?”

“You told me. On more than one occasion. It usually took at least two margaritas, but I could get you talking about him.” She clicks her tongue. “You’d whine about how he never could satisfy you.” She laughs. “It was hilarious.”

“Yeah, he couldn’t have found an orgasm with a map and a vibrator in his pocket.

I’m smiling now. Feeling less freaked out and more empowered. I love Max. I love him!

“Thank you for always making me laugh,” I say to Chelsea. “You’d be my soul sister even if we weren’t blood sisters.”

“Ditto. Now go find your man and prove to him you’re willing to fight, too. Love you.”

Next, I dial up my brother.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately.

“It’s okay. It was my fault for not telling him myself.”

“Everything okay between y’all?” Brendan asks.

“No, but I’m hoping I can fix that. Do you have any idea where he would go if he was angry? He let go of his hotel room more than a week ago.”

“Okay, listen, you should know that some of the guys were talking shit about you, teasing him. Max wailed on the main guy, bloodied him up pretty good.”

“Shit. Is he in trouble?”

“Fuck no. He did exactly what I would have done. What the coaches don’t know won’t hurt them. Charlie, Max is a good man. Don’t waste any more time punishing yourself for your failed marriage. You and Evan didn’t belong together.”

“Thanks. That means a lot. Sounds like you don’t hate Max anymore.”

“He’s alright,” Brendan says. “Try the rink. That’s where I’d go.”

“Right! That makes perfect sense. Thank you!”

Now that I’ve talked to both of my siblings, I toe on some flip-flops and grab my keys. And drive as fast, but also as safely, as possible. Carrying precious cargo and all of that.

I pat my belly when I get out of the car. “Let’s go get your daddy.”

Max’s car sits in the parking lot with only a handful of others. Brendan was right.

Thankfully the security guard recognizes me and lets me in. The moment I step inside, I rethink my current outfit. Shorts and a t-shirt with flip-flops is great for the Texas heat, but in a building full of ice, it’s not that comfortable.

I see him immediately. Not because he’s the only one on the ice, but because my eyes are drawn to him like a homing device. I make my way down to the boards.

“Max!” I call once. Then I do it again even louder.

His head whips in my direction and it’s then that I see the bruise blooming on his cheek. How did I miss that at the house. My gaze goes to his hands, and I find his knuckles red and broken. Because he punched a teammate. For me.

He skates to me, gliding over as if it takes no effort. I never could ice skate.

“Can we talk? Please? I have things I want to tell you. Things I should have already told you,” I say.