Page 44 of At First Smile

“Come on, Boy Bronte, buy me a shot. If they’re going to be like that all night, I’ll need to get liquored up.” Trina’s quip is playful.

After a round of Patron shots, we catch our rideshare to Casa Loma. The Gothic Revival mansion resembles a medieval castle but is a private residence turned museum. A maze of gardens surrounds the stone structure with two massive towers. Events like weddings and Landon’s fundraiser are held here.

“It’s like Downton Abbey,” Pen says as we enter the castle.

The fundraiser sprawls out from the first-floor restaurant into the atrium and outdoor gardens.

After grabbing drinks, we mosey around the event.

I spy a few familiar faces. Eli Silverberg and his husband, Malik, are there.

My heart swells as he embraces Pen like they’re old friends despite only first meeting at the MVP Event.

“Did you see Coach is here?” Eli tips his head to where Stefan Carlson stands, his daughter, Liv is next to him, a tight smile that is more of a grimace on her face.

My eyes narrow as Landon crosses the room, an unabashed expression on his face, and seems to head right toward Carlson and his daughter. Stomach knotted, I fix my stare on Landon.

“Looks like Landon is making a beeline to him.” Eli chuckles. “Probably going to try to sweet talk him into the bachelor auction.”

“Well, he is a silver fox,” Malik deadpans, making the small group, except me, laugh.

“Carlson? Is his daughter with him?” Pen asks, her hand tightens in mine.

Brows knitted, Eli tilts his gaze around me. “Yep.”

“Rowan, want to introduce me?” she asks, her thumb strokes across my skin, easing the bristly effect that seized me knowing Landon is approaching Liv.

I lift our joined hands and press an appreciative kiss. “Of course.”

It doesn’t take psychic abilities to know what’s in Pen’s head at this moment. She’s able to read me like nobody else.

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” she whispers, leaning into me as we move across the room.

“Rowan!” Liv’s mouth blooms into a bright grin, her slender arms fling around me like a vise grip.

“Liv!” I laugh, squeezing her back.

She pulls back. “Oh, my word, I cannot believe it. Is this your girlfriend? She’s even prettier in person. I nearly died when I saw the social media posts earlier today. I have to hear all about how you met.” She turns to Pen.

Pen reaches her hand out. “Hi Liv, I’m Pen?—”

“We do not shake hands, we hug.” Liv envelops Pen.

The tension unspools from every inch of me. Seeing that Landon has paused several feet away relaxes me.

“Iverson.” Carlson nods at me.

“Coach.”

“I see you’ve been busy on your break.” His gray eyes bounce between Pen and me.

“Daddy, don’t be crass. This isn’t a locker room,” Liv teases, poking her dad.

Affection glints in his eyes. “My apologies.” He extends a hand to Pen. “Stefan Carlson, nice to meet you, Pen.”

She grins. “It’s lovely to meet you. Rowan has said so many wonderful things about you.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’m sure that will change when training camp starts in a few weeks.”

The knot in my stomach seems to untie with each smile and joke as Stefan continues to speak with Pen. Almost two months ago I sat in the visiting team’s locker room in Toronto, a dull ache in my chest, as Stefan walked away after saying, “Get out of my sight.”

“Coach Carlson. Iverson. Glad that you both could make it.” Landon steps into the group, his predatory gaze dropping on Carlson’s daughter. “Liv.”

My jaw clenches.

“ Liv ? I didn’t realize you knew my daughter.” Carlson’s eyebrow raises.

“We met in March at an event at the university. I always enjoy giving back to my old collegiate stomping ground.”

Liv’s eyes drop to her feet.

“Liv, can I steal you for a minute to help me find the restroom,” Pen almost blurts.

“I’m sorry.” Landon chuckles. “How rude of me. I’m Landon Andrews.” He extends a hand toward Pen.

“Penelope Meadows.” She takes his hand but releases it as soon as it is socially acceptable to do so.

“My girlfriend,” I add quickly, pulling Pen closer.

“Girlfriend? Really? Giving up that monk lifestyle since losing?”

“Well, Friar Tuck here forced you to a game seven.” Pen bristles beside me, a quiet growl builds in her throat.

“That he did.” Chuckling, Landon’s stare drags down Pen and lands on Cane Austen, who rests in her right hand. “Iverson, are you using this lovely lady to get out of the bachelor auction?”

On the surface, the joke appears lighthearted, but I bristle with the thinly-veiled judgment that underscores Landon’s words. Storm clouds form within me and I open my mouth.

But Pen is quicker. “Nope. I’m using him for his body.”

Liv snorts. Carlson chortles. Landon gapes.

Laughing, I press my head against hers murmuring, “Christ, woman.”

“What? It’s quite lovely.”

“On that note—” Liv steps forward. “Pen and I are off to do girl talk in the bathroom.”

With a quick kiss, Pen saunters away, arm-and-arm with Liv.

“How on earth did you meet her?” Landon’s forehead scrunches.

“Tim Hortons.”

“I may need to frequent Tim Hortons,” Carlson says, awe in his tone.

“I take it this means I’ll need to find a new bachelor to replace you. Coach, ready to get back out there?” Landon says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“No,” Carlson says gruffly.

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the most embarrassing thing to happen to you in the city of Toronto.” A snake-like smile slithers across Landon’s face.

Balling my fists, I mentally count to ten.

“Relax, Iverson, it’s just a joke.” He waves to someone.

Carlson’s palm lands on my shoulder. “Let’s go get a drink.”

Grabbing a drink at the bar, Carlson and I soon find ourselves in the garden. Fairy lights drape along every surface. A fresh, floral scent melds with the hint of the rainstorm forecast to roll in overnight. Music floats through the gardens from the string quartet playing in the atrium inside.

It is utterly romantic and instead of taking this in with Pen in my arms, I’m standing at one of the many high-tops positioned around the gardens with my coach. A man whom I admire and would do anything for. A man that I’d disappointed, even if I did it for him.

“I hear you’ve been at the training center almost daily during the off-season,” Carlson says, his fingers tap against his glass of Scotch.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He raises his glass to his mouth and sips.

“I’m…” The thump of my heart drowns out the quiet, murmured conversations around us. “I’m focused on the game. I’m ready for this season.”

“Once your five-game suspension is over, you mean.”

“Yes.” My eyes remain on his, and I swallow thickly. “I know if I hadn’t got a penalty in the last two minutes, Toronto may not have scored, and I’d have been playing, rather than in the box. I’m sorry I let the team down… let you down.”

His steely stare assesses. “I could give two fucks about that. We were at game seven because of you and Silverberg. You two carried the team all season. What I do care about is what happened after the game. Are you sorry about that?”

I’m two months north of what happened. The smart answer is “yes.” It’s what Sasha and Greg advise. It’s what any smart man would do, lie.

“No.”

“Disappointing.” It’s almost a snarled breath.

“I know.” My gaze falls to my pint glass.

“I’ve known you since you were eighteen. You’re scrappy, but you’re an honorable man, a good man. Not the beast that I saw seething with anger, a man whose teammates had to pull off Landon.”

Eyes closed, the images of that moment flood back. Blood trickling from Landon’s nose as he lay sprawled on the ice, his face twisted in angry shock. My teammates holding me back as I growl, “If you dare, I’ll end you,” while Toronto players jump into the fray.

“You worry about disappointing me, what about disappointing yourself? That’s why I’m angry. These aren’t the actions of the man I know.”

Pain radiates in my chest, and I rub against its tightness, hoping to quell it. I know why I did what I did and why I can never tell him.

“Guess you’re lucky that despite your zero remorse for your actions, Landon has chosen the high road. He may be a smug bastard at times, but you could learn a thing or two from him about being a good man.”

“You have that the wrong way around, Daddy. Landon can learn how to be a good man from Rowan.” Liv’s shaky voice yanks our focus. She stands, wringing her hands, beside Pen, who squeezes her bare shoulder.

His head tilts. “What does that mean?”

With an encouraging smile, Pen nods at Liv, who looks between her and her father.

“Daddy, remember how I told you about the guy I was seeing at the end of the semester.”

“The halfwit you said ghosted you and you didn’t want to talk about him?” His eyes darken like a stormy sky.

“Liv, you don’t?—”

“But I do, Rowan” she cuts me off. “I don’t know how you knew it was him, but I knew the moment you punched him that you’d figured it out. That you’d done it because of me.”

“Who? What is she…” Carlson’s face twists with fury. “Landon? It was Landon Phillips?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “I’m so stupid. I thought he really liked me but?—”

“You’re not stupid. Assholes like Landon know exactly what they are doing,” Pen soothes, her arm coming around Liv.

“Sweetheart.” Carlson strides to Liv, pulling her close. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you. I’m so sorry.”

Swiping at her eyes, she steps back. “I wanted to come. To face him and show him he’d not hurt me, even though he did. I also wanted to thank Rowan.” She turns to me. “You could have told everyone why you did it, but you didn’t. You kept my secret. How did you figure out that it was Landon?”

I look to Pen, whose soft expression encourages me to speak. “Landon said something crude after the game and…” I swallow thickly not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Say it,” Liv orders, her face stone.

“He said he wondered if it was worse for Carlson to have lost the cup to him or to know that his daughter lost her virginity to him.”

“That fucker!” Carlson’s rage-filled gaze jumps to the stairs leading into the gardens from the porch, where Landon descends along with Eli, Malik, and a photographer.

In a swift movement, I reach for Coach and halt his steps. “Don’t. You’re better than this. Better than me.”

The hard edges of his expression melt as his stare locks with mine. “I was wrong. You are exactly who I thought you were: a good man. You defended her honor. You protected her despite the exorbitant cost to yourself. Now, let me do the same.” He yanks out of my grasp.

“I was wrong. I didn’t protect her, and neither will this,” I hiss.

He stops and turns his face back to me.

“If I’m sorry for anything, it’s for not letting Liv fight her own battles. Not allowing her to face him and just stand as her backup.”

Carlson looks between Landon who strides towards us, a laughing expression on his face, and then back to Liv, her fierce glare locked on the man who’d hurt her.

Somehow, the little girl that she appeared while tucked under her father’s protective arms mere moments ago dissolves.

Spine straight and hands clenched at her side she’s the image of a warrior ready for battle.

“There you all are. I thought we could get a picture. You know, show there’s no hard feelings. Good sportsmanship and all that.” A smug expression etches across Landon’s features.

“You don’t know the definition of good sportsmanship.” Liv glowers.

“Excuse me?” Landon cocks a dismissive eyebrow.

“Were you being a good sportsman when you dated me, got me to fall for you, slept with me, and then ghosted me?”

“You what?” Eli growls and steps towards Landon, only to be held back by Malik. “What the fuck, man?”

“He sure did. Mr. Man of the Year is a manipulative bastard who used a twenty-year-old girl to get one over on her father. Were you still upset that he benched you when you played for him at university until you got your grades up, or that out of all the free agent players who played for him, he didn’t ask you to join him at the Bobcats?

” Eyes narrowed, Liv steps up to Landon. “You’re a pathetic little man.”

“Who you still slept with,” he hissed.

“Watch it, fucker,” Carlson snarls, coming beside his daughter.

“Or what?”

Placing a hand on her father’s chest, Liv’s mouth curves. “Oh, don’t worry we’ll give you exactly what you gave me in bed…nothing.”

“Coach, we got you and Liv’s back. Whatever you want,” Eli says, he and Malik move to Liv’s other side.

Intertwining our fingers, Pen guides us to stand on Carlson’s side. “Us too,” we say in unison.

Carlson looks at his daughter. “Your call, Liv.”

She looks at Landon like he is gum on her shoe. “Not worth the effort. Let’s go.”

Fifty minutes later, our little ragtag team, now including Finn and Trina, sit in the hotel lobby.

Two dozen Timbits surrounded by coffees, ice caps, and two apple cinnamon teas from Tim Hortons cover the surface of the table we’ve claimed.

We’re seated on the cluster of plush sofas surrounding the round table.

Pen is nestled on my lap, my arms looping around her middle, as she munches on our shared cheese toasty.

“Thank you,” I whisper against her cheek.

Twisting to face me, she bends close. “For what?”

I trace my fingers along her jaw. “For helping Liv.”

“All I did was listen.”

“It was so much more than that. You supported her to own her story, to speak up. You helped her regain her power.”

“I’m just following my teammate’s lead. Thank you.” With the sweetest goddamn smile, she offers me the sandwich.

“I love you.” Bypassing the sandwich, I slant my mouth over hers. The salty taste from the cheese toasty blends with her natural sweetness in the most decadent flavor.

“Are they always like this?” Eli chuckles.

“Yes!” Both Finn and Trina guffaw.

Mouth still locked with mine, Pen flips off Trina and Finn, making me fall just a little bit more in love with her.