Page 4 of The One Timer

“Of course I did. You’re my bestie, and you fucking deserve it. Excuse the salty language, but we’re at a hockey game, right?”

Laughing, I pull off my jacket and put the Whalers shirt on over my ratty old T-shirt. “It’s a little snug.” I dart an accusing look at her. “You did that on purpose.”

“You should show off those double-Ds. Besides, it’ll help lure in Chase, the hockey hunk, to complete your birthday night out later.”

“What are you talking about?” I half laugh. “First of all, they’re not double-Ds. Secondly, whoever said I was trying to lure Chase into…” I wave a hand, “anything.”

“When’s the next time you might have a chance?”

“Never.”

“Exactly my point. Tonight is the perfect storm of opportunity for you.” She ticks off her fingers. “The semester ended, it’s your birthday, you scored these tickets, and Chase is here, ready to be plucked and fucked.”

I swat her, laughing. “Plucked and fucked? Really? He’s not a Christmas turkey.”

“I know—but, seriously. When’s the last time you had that kind of night out, Cinderella?”

My eyebrows dart up, and I laugh, more from chagrin than enjoyment. “Shit, I can’t even remember. And don’t call me Cinderella.” It’s been her ongoing joke to compare me to Cinderella, casting my Aunt Bea and my two cousins, Penny and Petra, as my wicked stepmother and stepsisters. But that’s a wild exaggeration all around.

“If the shoe fits.” She grins and bangs on the seat arm like it’s a drum. “Bada bing. That was the perfect pun. Thank you for the setup.”

I roll my eyes.

“Seriously, you’ve been all work and no play for far too long.”

Shrugging, I hate to admit she’s right because there’s nothing I can do about needing to keep my nose to the grindstone if I want to graduate nursing school next semester and save up enough money to get a place of my own. I can’t wait to finally get a nursing job that pays me well enough to move out on my own and stand on my own feet, a truly independent woman.

Letting my eyes wander up to the jumbotron and then down to the ice, I spot Chase. This time, the flip in my stomach has nothing to do with existential fear and everything to do with existential anticipation—such as the primal need to procreate. He’s so fucking hot.

And he’s looking directly back at me.

“Is he checking you out?” Merry elbows me, the excitement in her voice far too contagious.

My phone vibrates violently enough in my bag sitting on my lap that I feel it and jump to answer it.

“I need to get this,” I say as I pull it from the small bag. Merry gives me a skeptical look.

“Hello, Aunt Bea,” I say, trying not to laugh at the look of horror on Merry’s face. She’s not a fan and motions for me to hang up. As Aunt Bea talks in my ear, Merry tries to grab the phone from me.

“Where are you? What’s all that noise? It’s past dinner time. Are you coming home to cook or what?”

“It’s my birthday today. I thought I mentioned it earlier. I lucked into some tickets to the hockey game.”

“Where’d you get all that money? Never mind. We have a pile of laundry here, waiting for you when you get home.”

Merry’s eyebrows shoot up, and she scowls like a mamma bear ready to attack. I turn away from her so she can’t listen in. The crowd noise is still light at this point. There’s still close to a half hour until game time.

“I’ll get to the laundry. No worries.”

“And don’t expect a birthday gift. In fact, my tips were short this week, so I’ll need some extra money from you. Plus, we have the expense of a fancy dress for Petra because she’s been invited to that fancy charity gala by her new boyfriend—you know, the one who works for the Brawlers as the equipment manager. He’s a good catch. Maybe it’s about time you thought about going after a man with a good career who can take care of you so you can move out of here.”

The clench in my chest is automatic and painful because no matter how many times she says things like that, I’ll never get used to the feeling of being so unwanted by my own family.

“I’ll get you some extra money, and Petra will get a party dress so beautiful that she’ll be the talk of the gala.”

Aunt Bea snorts. Mollified, she says, “Thatta girl.”

Warmth fills me, making me smile automatically at the praise. “Absolutely.” Petra’s new boyfriend has put her—and everyone else in the tiny household—in a good mood since she’s been dating him. She’s not as sharp-tongued as usual and smiling more—which she never used to do. Not that I blame her because the tiny apartment where we all live, her aunt, and her two cousins, Petra and Penny, is not a happy place. Not that Aunt Beatrice helps matters.