Page 37 of XOXO, Summer
We stop outside the door to his van. “It’s nothing but trouble.”
“Yeah, it’s bullshit. You’re right. I don’t want this job. Too much trouble.” His expression lifts. “But I got to meet you.”
“And I got to meet you, Bryan, with a Y.”Asshole.
Snapping his fingers, he points at me. “Heeeey, you got it. My friends are going to be so jealous.”
“But the rest is a secret, right?”
He pulls out his phone to take a photo. “Yeah, no worries.”
The photo is snapped. While he studies it, I open the door. “You got a long drive back.” When he gets in, I shut the door and punch the lock down. “You take care, buddy.”
“You, too, Mav.” He starts the engine as I walk back to the house.
As soon as the van pulls away, I see Summer standing there, beautiful as if a weight was lifted.
Her arms are still crossed, but a smile has filtered the anger away. “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle a jerk of a plumber.”
“I know you can, but isn’t it more fun when you don’t have to?” I walk straight for her and cup her cheek. Tilting her head back, I lean down because kissing her seems to currently be my only mission in life, and whisper, “Now, where were we?”
Just as her eyes flutter closed, my phone rings in my pocket. Not just any ring, the team’s theme song. Her eyes open again as I gently release her. “Sorry. I need to take this.”
“That’s fine,” she says, indicating by her tone that it’s notactually fine at all. “I have calls to make too.” She turns, pulling her phone from her back pocket, and walks inside the house.
My phone rings once more, and I answer it. “Hey Coach, how’s it going?”
“Good. Good.” He stalls, letting the quiet linger. “How are you, Sutton?”
“Pretty good. It’s only been a few days since the season ended, so I’m not out of hockey mode yet.”
“That’s what makes you so good.” Coach Spears runs this program like it’s his baby. He’s not just setting the tone and goals, he makes sure his players are in a good headspace. “You’re always ready to go.”
“Yep.” I walk across the deck but stop to glance back to see if I can catch sight of Summer. I can’t, so I head toward the water. “I’m assuming this isn’t a social call?”
“Actually, it is. The owners are having a Fourth of July picnic, a real upscale event hosted in the Hamptons.”
“Sounds fun. I’ll talk to Roman?—”
“It’s more of a fancy cocktails, steak and lobster event. Finger weenies?—”
“Finger what?”
“You know, fancy shit rich people eat.”
“Youarerich people, Coach.” The water glides over the rocks on shore as it drifts in and back out again. I stop just before the grass ends and stare out at a few boats in the distance. “I’m also rich people now.”
“Yeah, but we’re not that kind. We had to earn it. Hell, I was planning on throwing burgers and dogs on the grill to celebrate. Now my wife is out shopping for what she calls a summer suit for me to wear.”
The mention of summer has me looking backfor the only version that keeps my attention. I chuckle. “The food sounds more my style. Summer suits? I’m not interested.”
“They named you personally as one of the players they wanted to see there. It didn’t sound like an invite. It sounded like a demand.” He exhales. “I know this isn’t part of your plans for the summer, but you need to be there. That’s a request, not a demand.”
“Why?”
“We’ve talked about this, Daniel. They want to see a new attitude, a softer side to you. Angry isn’t doing it anymore.”
“Tell that to the other team’s goalie. Softer doesn’t put a puck in the net. Soft sounds like someone they want to retire.” Shoving a hand in my pocket, I say, “So tell me the truth, Rich. What’s this party really about?”
