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Forget turning out like my dad, a measly professional athlete. Or my mother, a mere award-winning songwriter. I was going to be Stanley Cup and rule the fucking world. I can’t remember who burst my bubble. Probably my twin brother, Wyatt. He’s an unrepentant bubble burster.
“Garrett who?” “Are you shitting me right now? You don’t know who Garrett Graham is?” “Is he famous or something?” Ryder stares at me. “He’s hockey royalty. This is his camp.” “Oh. Yeah. I only follow figure skaters.”
“Dad?” he growls under his breath. “You’re Garrett Graham’s kid?” I can’t help laughing at his indignation. “Not only that, but I’m helping with your shooting drills today.” His eyes narrow. “You play hockey?” I reach over to pat his arm. “Don’t worry, prom king, I’ll go easy on you.”
Graham: Does your father-in-law pay you to be his hype man? Or you do it for free to score approval points?
“You host a show with Jake Connelly, the most beautiful man in the world. Trust me, you’re going to get the views.” “Nope, nope, nope,” he groans. “You know how I feel when you talk about Connelly’s stupid looks. It triggers my crippling inferiority.”
Garrett Graham’s daughter is hot. She was hot when I met her six years ago, and she’s even hotter now.
“Is that what you need from people? To be told what a good girl you are?”
“How do you feel about murder-suicide? I could easily kill you, but I don’t think I can kill myself, so you’ll need to murder me and then take care of yourself. Is that something you’re comfortable doing?” He looks at me. “Forget I said anything.”
For a bunch of grown men, my dad’s friends are capable of shenanigans I never anticipate.
“Oh, I’m going to remember that,” Dean growls. “I’m telling your father,” Logan adds. “He knows he’s old. You don’t need to remind him.”
“You should be prepared,” Owen eventually says, glancing over to grin at me. “For what?” “You’re gonna marry that girl.”
“Like hell I can’t,” I growl. And then I give him another firm shove, forcibly moving him out of my way. “That’s my wife out there.”
