“And then when he realizes who did it,” Ash adds.
“You guys and your pranks.” Mrs. Wynn shakes her head.
“It’s tradition,” Harrison says. “Especially when it’s another Wynn.”
The talk turns to playoff predictions, and I’m fascinated by their analysis of how other teams will do, their strengths and weaknesses.
My gaze is caught by movement at the side of the house. I blink as two men walk around the corner, following the brick path to the patio. I gesture to Harrison beside me, who looks up.
“Jesus.” His head jerks back.
Everyone else looks too.
“Mark! Matthew!” Mrs. Wynn exclaims, standing. “Hi!”
“What are you guys doing here?” Mr. Wynn growls, also standing.
“It’s your birthday, Dad,” one of the men says. I’m not sure who is who. “We thought we’d come by.”
“You weren’t invited,” Mr. Wynn says bluntly.
The men and Mrs. Wynn exchange glances and I have a suspicion that she may have invited them.
“Well, have some food, since you’re here.” She gestures to the bar. “I’ll get a couple more plates.” She sets her dinner down on a table and hustles into the kitchen.
Harrison rises slowly and follows Mark and Matthew to the bar. “Can I get you a drink?” he offers.
They each take a beer and help themselves to food. Conversation has dried up, the atmosphere suddenly dense and heavy. I look around at the others.
“You haven’t met Arya,” Harrison says to his half brothers. “Arya, this is Matthew, and this is Mark.”
I smile and shake hands. Matthew is clearly older and looks very much like his dad, his hair graying and receding a bit. Mark has merely a touch of gray, and his wide shoulders and lean build indicate a very fit and muscular man. “Nice to meet you.”
Noah has pulled two more chairs closer to us and they sit with their plates.
“Happy birthday, Dad,” Mark says, echoed by Matt.
“Well.” Mrs. Wynn sits and looks around the group. She doesn’t look fazed by the unexpected appearance of her stepsons.
Which is a little weird to think about, because her stepsons are about the same age as her.
She smiles serenely. “This is a good chance for us to all talk.”
Mr. Wynn frowns. “About what?”
There’s another tense exchange of glances.
“I feel like I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper to Harrison, leaning over.
He sets a hand on my back and rubs a small circle. “You’re probably going to wish you weren’t.” He sighs.
My stomach tightens. This seems like it’s going to be a very personal family discussion.
“Let me start,” Everly says. “Mark, Matthew, I’m sorry that I blurted out all that stuff that night at the game. Actually, I’m not sorry I said it; I’m sorry I said it there. That wasn’t the appropriate place for that discussion.
“I missed it,” Mark murmurs. “But Matt filled me in.”
“We’re worried,” Everly continues, shooting her dad a glance. “This family needs to come together. Now more than ever.”
“You need to know,” Mrs. Wynn adds. “The doctors have confirmed that your dad has Alzheimer’s.”
I watch Matthew and Mark. Mark’s throat works; Matthew’s jaw tightens.
“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Matthew asks. “What about a second opinion?”
“We’ve seen a several doctors,” Mrs. Wynn replies. “They’re all in agreement. And they’re excellent doctors.”
There’s music playing from an outdoor speaker, but it seems to fade in the midst of the opaque silence that descends over us. I poke at a piece of grilled zucchini, wishing I could go get locked in the bathroom again.
“I’m not questioning the doctors,” Matthew says, his voice rough. “Just…”
“You’re in denial, like the rest of us,” Everly says quietly. She swipes a finger under one eye but lifts her chin.
“What are you talking about?” Mr. Wynn asks irritably. “The doctors said I’m fine.”
Everly’s lip trembles. Harrison closes his eyes briefly.
Mark and Matthew look to Mrs. Wynn. She shakes her head, her expression pinched.
“This lawsuit has to be settled,” Everly speaks up. “Now you know why.”
Mark and Matthew exchange glances and slowly nod.
“I have some information put together,” Mrs. Wynn says to them. “This isn’t the time, but if we could sit down and go through it, I have a…” She stops. “A proposal, I suppose. After the playoffs, maybe?”
“You didn’t steal that girl from your brother, did you?” Mr. Wynn suddenly demands.
He’s looking at Harrison. And me.
My mouth falls open. I turn to Harrison, confused.
“No, Dad,” he says.
“Good. Because that’s a dick move.”
“I know.” Harrison leans closer to me. “He’s thinking of JP.” He pauses. “I don’t think it’s worth getting into it.”
“JP stole his brother’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah. Long story. Evidently, Dad’s still pissed about it.”
Then Mr. Wynn starts into a story about one of the years he won the Stanley Cup. It’s a little rambling and doesn’t entirely make sense, but I can tell that it’s based on something that really happened. Everyone listens and reacts appropriately, smiling and commenting, but I can tell their hearts are breaking.
And I kind of feel like that too, because I hate seeing Harrison hurting. I finish my meal, set my plate on a small table, and reach for Harrison’s hand. I curl my fingers around it and he reciprocates, twining our fingers together, and we sit like that. I want to think, from the way he’s clasping my hand, that I’m helping in some tiny way.
Mrs. Wynn serves birthday cake that I can see nobody wants to eat, but everyone’s acting cheerful. Matthew and Mark are quieter than the others, moving to sit beside their dad to talk to him in low voices while they pretend to eat cake.
“You okay?” I ask Harrison without looking up from my chocolate cake.
“No.” He slants me a crooked smile. “I’m fucked up.”
“I know.” I reach for his forearm and squeeze it. “It’s okay.”
“You ready to go soon?”
“Sure. Any time.”
He takes my empty plate a few minutes later and carries it into the kitchen.
Following him, I say, “We should stay to help clean up.”
“Yeah.” He surveys the mess of dishes on the counter. “Let’s get these into the dishwasher.”
We set about rinsing and filling the dishwasher. I toss crumpled aluminum foil and plastic wrap into the trash while Harrison finds storage containers, and we move leftover chicken and veggies into them and store them in the fridge.
Mrs. Wynn comes in as I’m wiping the counter. “Oh my God!” She stops and looks around. “Did you two do this?”
“Yeah.” Harrison smiles at her, drying his hands. “It was Arya’s idea.”
She moves toward me with arms outstretched and my heart swells as she hugs me. She draws back and smiles. “Thank you. I’m glad you came and I got to meet you.”
“I’m happy to meet you too. I do feel like I probably shouldn’t have been here for some of that family business.”
“It’s fine.” She glances at Harrison. “We need to think about how we’re going to deal with this publicly. I think we should consult with Murray.”
I have no idea who Murray is, but…wow. Bad enough they have to go through this, they have to go through it in front of the whole world.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I don’t think we need to do anything yet.”
Everly enters the kitchen too, followed by Wy
att. “Oh! I just came in to help clean up.” She surveys the room. “It’s done.”
“Perfect timing,” Harrison says dryly.
She rolls her eyes.
“We’re out,” he says. “Thanks Mom, that was a great dinner.”
He hugs his Mom while I hug Everly.
“Let’s do drinks and appies again one day,” she says to me.
“Absolutely!”
“The playoff schedule comes out tomorrow, and then we’ll know what our life looks like for the next couple of weeks anyway.” She slides an affectionate look at her boyfriend. “I’ll text you.”
“Sounds good.”
We say more goodbyes, then climb into Harrison’s SUV to head home.
* * *
—
“I’m not going to be very available for a while,” Harrison says the next day in his SUV. “We need to focus on the playoffs. We’ll be traveling to Vancouver. Sometimes the team even makes us stay in a hotel here in town instead of our own homes so we’re not distracted by family shit.”
“And you have a lot of family shit going on.”
“True that.” His smile is rueful. “Anyway, I want to spend time with you as much as I can the next few days, if you’re okay with that.”
I smile. “I’d love that. I don’t want to be a distraction for you. I know how important this is.”
“Yeah.” He reaches over and squeeze my hand. “I just don’t want you to think I’m ignoring you when things get going.”
“I’m okay with it. Seriously. I have my friends, I have my work…in fact, I just got offered a great opportunity.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I’m going to do a rooftop sunset yoga class downtown once a week.”
He shouts a laugh. “No shit? That’s awesome!”
“I know, right? I just heard about it this morning. I’m excited. It’s a cool thing. So, um, where are we going?” He’s taking me out somewhere, but he’s been mysterious about where.
“You’re gonna love this.” He grins and twists his hands on the steering wheel in excitement. “Puppies and Pints.”
“Uh…what?”
“Puppies and Pints. We’re going to Last Glass Brewers. Once a month they have these Puppies and Pints evenings where they bring in rescue dogs and you can go and have a drink and play with the dogs.”
“Oh my God!” I press a hand between my breasts. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He slants me a smile. “I thought you’d like it.”
“Dogs! I miss my Roxy so much.”
“I know you do. And I know you want a dog of your own, someday. Maybe won’t be one of these ones, but you can enjoy them anyway and get some dog time.” He frowns. “That sounds weird.”
“No, it doesn’t. I need dog time. I need puppy hugs. I’m so excited!” I clap my hands.
The event is being held on the patio at Last Glass Brewers. The hostess shows us out there and seats us at a table. Before we even order drinks I’m eyeing the dogs.
My heart!
I can’t resist. I have to go see them. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I tell Harrison, leaving him to order.
I cross the patio and crouch down beside a beagle. “Hello, my sweetie.”
“This is Buster,” the girl holding his leash says. “He’s two years old. He’s very affectionate and friendly.”
I hold out my hand palm down which he sniffs, then I rub his chin. “Hi, Buster. You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you?”
He looks up at me with big brown eyes and I’m melting into a puddle of puppy longing.
Another dog comes over, tail wagging, eager for attention. He?—She?—is smaller, so I scoop him up. He lays puppy kisses all over my chin. I’m laughing as the girl from the shelter tells me this is Vita, an indeterminate mix of breeds who’s only eight months old.
“You are so sweet.” I cuddle him against me.
Harrison comes over with a plastic cup with beer in it for me. I set down Vita and take the beer. “Thank you.” I beam up at him.
He crouches beside me and holds out a hand for Vita to sniff. “Hey, little dude.”
I introduce them, earning an amused glance from Harrison. He rubs a hand down Vita’s back. Vita moves closer, eyes closing, nuzzling into Harrison. My heart trips again, watching him rub the dog and smile at him.
This is heaven. Harrison and I play with the dogs and drink beer and laugh a lot. I squeeze puppy bodies and boop noses and rub bellies. Harrison seems to enjoy it too, even though he’s apparently never had a dog. At one point I catch him watching me as I plant a kiss right between the eyes of Buster the beagle. My skin tingles everywhere at the heat I see in his eyes, and for a few seconds I actually forget the puppers.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
He quirks an eyebrow.
“For bringing me here. I love it.”
He smiles slowly. “I can see that. I’m glad.”
My heart is already full of puppy love, and it swells even bigger. I want to throw myself at him and kiss him all over and…
I’m getting feelings for this man. Big, soft, tender feelings. Huge, scary feelings.
Chapter 20
Harrison
The coaching staff has told everyone to take care of whatever family shit we need to deal with before the playoffs start so we aren’t distracted by it.
I can’t really take care of my family shit; nothing’s going to change Dad’s situation. That weighs heavy inside me, but I’m going to have to accept it and put it aside for now.
I’m also aware this isn’t a good time to be starting a relationship. It’s the playoffs. We need to win. I’m trying to earn a permanent place on the Condors’ roster. I’m trying to show my dad I can do this and make him proud of me…and he’s dying.
But I can’t stay away from Arya. From the moment I laid eyes on her, something drew me to her. And my family can eat rocks about the fact that she’s blond—it’s not that at all. It’s the softness that glows in her eyes, the joy that shines in her smile, the affection she showered on those puppies, the way she held my hand when things got tough at my parents’ place. The way she’s got big jock hockey players doing yoga. Maybe I’m crazy, but being with her makes me feel…stronger. Better. And I need to be my best right now.
Outside of practices, workouts, and team meetings, and her class schedule, we spend almost every moment together for the next few days.
We go for a bike ride and end up lying in the sand dunes near Venice Pier, staring at the ocean, letting the sun warm us, and talking about everything. She takes me to Leo’s Creamery for ice cream and I find my new favorite—dark-roast coffee and white chocolate. We lie in bed reading, and she’s amused that I’m reading a Kresley Cole book, one of her favorite authors. We discover other authors we both like. We go shopping and buy a deep fryer, then to Whole Foods for ingredients, and spend an evening trying to create deep-fried pizza. We have a few failures.
“It’s basically a Pizza Pop,” I say as we remove one golden-brown treat from the oil.
“A what?”
“A Pizza Pop. Oh right. That’s a Canadian thing.”
“Oh yeah! We had them in Winnipeg when we went there! I love Pizza Pops.” Then her face falls. “Damn. I thought we were creating something original.”
“We totally are. No Pizza Pop will rival our unique creation. Let’s see how it tastes.”
We dig in.
“This is the best one yet,” I proclaim.
“I agree. Great Pizza Pop.” She grins.
We do couples’ yoga. I have no idea what this even is, but Arya convinces me to try it.
We’re on my living room floor and she’s telling me we’re going to do Plank on Plank.
“You can do a plank, right?” she asks m
e.
I scoff. “Of course I can do a plank.” I get down on the floor into a straight-arm plank. Then she gets on top of me the other way, gripping my ankles, her ankles on my shoulders. I tighten my core even more to support her weight on top of me.
“See?” she says triumphantly. “Not even hard. Let’s try something else. Front Bird.”
“Whut?” When she’s off me, I lower myself to the floor and roll over to stare up at her.
“Yes, like that.” She nods. “Bend your legs.”
I do so, and she stands in front of me, positioning my bare feet against her pelvis. She reaches over to grip my hands.
“Okay.” She grins at me. “Ready?”
“Sure…”
“Lift me up with your feet.”
My eyes widen. “Okay.” I push at her hips and she stretches out above me, her body flat, straightening her arms. Following her lead, I straighten mine too, propping her up over me like she’s flying. “Holy shit.”
She laughs. “See? Front Bird.”
“This is awesome.” It strikes me that she has to trust me to let me do this, because I could easily drop her. “What happens if I grab your boobs?”
She starts laughing, and so do I, and that’s the end of that pose as we both collapse onto the floor, me making sure to cushion her fall.
“Let’s try that again and see if we can let go of our hands.”
I’m skeptical, but we do it, and goddamn if it doesn’t work. Slowly, she releases my hands and extends her arms to the side, then stretches them back, balancing on my feet. I keep my arms up in case I have to catch her, but wow, she’s got this. She’s so strong. Our eyes meet and we smile and focus on each other and on the pose, a connection drawing out between us. Fuck, she’s amazing.
We do a few other poses, which require that we hold onto each other and not let go or we’ll fall, and it’s pretty cool, the engagement and trust we have to have with each other. This feels…intimate. Being totally present in the moment. Trusting each other.
Her trusting me makes emotion blaze through my chest. I can’t even speak for a moment. This is what I’ve wanted.
For the Win Page 18