Page 135 of Embrace

It’s like he completely surrenders. All to make his daughter happy. I don’t hesitate to pull him in tight.

“You only get two of these per year,” he says.

“Two hugs? Nah, no way. We’re negotiating that.” I keep him there for six whole seconds.

He pulls away. “All right, but only if we win our last game.”

“Deal.”

“See you at practice, son,” he says before walking back to his car.

Son. He called me son.

I’m frozen in shock until I hear Summer call for me.

“Finally talked to Coach?” Dylan smirks when I make my way to the car. Then it clicks that he must have told Coach I was here. Of course he did.

“Kian,” Sierra says slowly, eyes tracking the bundle in my arms, “why are you holding a cat?”

Dylan shakes his head, knowing me too well. “What did you name him?”

Forty-nine

Scarlett

When I storminto the hockey house, everyone stares at me.

The confidence I felt while driving here deflates like helium from a balloon. But it’s been hours, and every time I call Kian, it goes straight to voicemail. The thought of him ignoring me shoved something so sharp into my chest that I drove here like a woman possessed.

In the entryway, gear bags clutter the floor, and the guys are dressed in black suits and beanies. Dylan’s shirtless, holding a bowl of cereal, when he spots me. There’s a knowing smile on his face, and all three of them point upstairs.

The steps have never felt intimidating, because nothing about Kian Ishida is intimidating. He’s all hard edges and dark inked skin at first glance, but then he’s soft hugs and bright smiles. I’ve decided that’s not something I’m willing to lose.

The cat I got him—though I’ll never admit it because he keeps posting about being “the chosen one”—isn’t enough. Kian needs to know that I’m willing to fight for him.

The sound of Sade hums beneath his door as I twist the knob.Kian’s by the window, staring into the street. His hockey bag is already packed on the bed.

“Kian,” I call. He doesn’t turn. I walk over and grab his shoulder. “Ishida.”

“I’m coming,jeez. You sound like Coa—” The words fall flat on his tongue. “You’re here.”

His shock reignites some of the determination that drove me here.

“I called you. I texted you. I’ve been driving myself crazy looking for you, and you’re here staring out your window. What are you even looking at?” The words spill out, uninhibited.

“A blimp,” he says, confusing me more. “Y-you called me?”

“You blocked me.”

His head rears back. “No—what? My phone’s dead, and I figured I didn’t need it since I’m leaving for my game.”

I blanch. “B-but you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I was giving you space.”

“I don’t want space!”

“Then what do you want?”