Page 34 of Game Changer (Wynn Hockey #5)

After Jax barbecues the steaks and we eat dinner, we gather around the fireplace to play another game of Trivial Pursuit. It turns out Jax’s whole family is into trivia.

This time we keep our clothes on.

We’re drinking wine and beer, laughing uproariously at jokes about Mr. Thompson’s balding head following a question about phalacrosis, which means hair falls out, when there’s a knock at the door.

We all turn toward the porch door and Jax rises. “I’ll get it.” As he opens the door, we hear him say, “Holy shit. Dad.”

Tori immediately goes on alert, and Mr. and Mrs. Thompson exchange a wide-eyed look.

“Seriously?” Tori mutters. “Mark is here?”

“Uh, he did say he might come up for a visit while Jax is here,” I say.

Three pairs of eyes fix on me intently.

I swallow. “I, uh, went to California with Jax at the end of June,” I say. “We saw him there.”

Their eyes widen.

I want to spew a bunch of stuff to Tori to tell her that Jax and his dad had a talk, and Jax found out that his dad never cheated on Tori, and they’re working things out, but that’s not my place, especially with Mark now walking into the living room with Jax.

“Oh.” Mark stops. “I didn’t realize…”

“We didn’t know you were coming, Dad,” Jax says.

Mark sighs. “I thought I’d surprise you. I should have let you know.” He pauses. “Hi, Tori. Hi, Pat. Gary.”

“Mark.” Mrs. Thompson rises with a polite smile. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it has been a while.”

Mr. Thompson rises too, but he’s frowning. The atmosphere that moments ago had been full of laughter and is now charged and heavy.

“Molly.” Mark smiles at me. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I stand and walk over to him. “It was a last-minute decision. Nice to see you again, Mr. Wynn.”

“Mark. Please.” He claps a hand on Jax’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll go see if I can get a room at one of the hotels.”

Everyone glances at each other. It’s acutely uncomfortable for a few seconds. Then Tori says, “You don’t have to do that. There’s lots of room here.”

“Yeah, Dad.” Jax appears relieved. “I’m sleeping on one of the couches. You can have one of the others.”

Mark hesitates. His gaze lands on Tori, and for a moment they share a long, indecipherable look. “You sure?” he finally says quietly.

“Of course.” She smiles. “You can join our Trivial Pursuit game. I have to warn you, though, Molly is a whiz.”

Mark meets my eyes and grins. “I suck at trivia.”

“I guess Jax gets it from his mom’s side of the family.”

“I had no idea Jax was into trivia.”

“He’s a champ,” I tell his dad, feeling a twinge of sadness that Mark doesn’t know that.

“Dad, can I get you a drink?”

“Sure. I’d love a beer.” Mark pulls an armchair closer to the coffee table.

I follow Jax to the kitchen to get a bottle of wine. “You okay with this?” I ask quietly.

He grimaces and closes the fridge door, a beer in his hand. “Don’t have much choice, I guess.” We pause, face to face, so close we’re almost touching. He smiles down at me. “Family, huh?”

“You definitely have a lot of it.” I smile back at him, my insides melting at the affection in his eyes. “They’re all great, though.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “They’re okay. As long as Mom and Dad get along. And as long as Grandpa doesn’t go after Dad with the axe.”

“Eek. Hard feelings?”

“You could say that.”

We carry drinks back to the living room. The fire has burned low, so Jax takes a minute to poke at it and put another log on, and then we resume our game.

Tori gives Jax and me a run for our money. She knows who lives at 39 Stone Canyon Way (the Flintstones). But Mark knows what an eagle is in golf and that Blackjack is the better-known name of the card game Twenty-One.

“What was Little Miss Muffet eating when she sat on her tuffet?” I ask Jax.

He lifts an eyebrow. “What the fuck is a tuffet?”

“I don’t know, but that’s not the question. And keep it clean.”

His family guffaws. I’m fitting right in here.

“A tuffet is like a footstool,” Mr. Thompson says.

“Ah. Okay. I think she was eating…a buffet.” He pronounces it to rhyme with tuffet.

I fall over laughing.

“Oh, come on!” Mrs. Thompson says. “You don’t know that?”

Jax grimaces. “Nope.”

“Eating her curds and whey,” say Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, Mark and Tori all at the same time.

“Kids these days,” Mark says, shaking his head, eyes twinkling.

“Right?” Tori agrees.

“Okay, Boomer,” Jax says with a grin, drawing groans from his parents.

“We’re not even Boomers,” Tori protests. “We’re not that old.”

“I’m kidding, Mom,” Jax says.

We continue the game.

“What mosquito’s bite draws blood, male or female?”

I frown. “Whichever it is, they’ve been drawing a lot of my blood.”

That gets a sympathetic laugh.

“I don’t know for sure, but I’ll guess female,” I say with a touch of bitterness.

“That’s right!”

“Okay.” Mrs. Thompson reads the next question for Mark. “Who stood at the top with ‘Stand By Your Man’?”

“Too easy. Tammy Wynette.”

“Stupid song,” Tori mutters. Her eyes meet Mark’s, and they have a little stare-down. “Story of our marriage.”

“What the…” Mark stops himself, his jaw tense. “How the hell can that be, when you didn’t stand by me?”

“I did so!”

My eyes go wide, and I slide my glance over to Jax. His face has reddened. The atmosphere in the room has become loaded.

“Sorry,” Tori says with a big fake smile. She waves her hands. “Got sidetracked there. Keep going.”

Finally, Jax ends up with the last question for the win. I read the card and roll my eyes. “Oh my God. How do you get so lucky with your questions?”

“It’s not luck,” he says with a fake modest smile. “I’m smart.”

“Ha ha. Okay. What hockey player was Sports Illustrated ’s Sportsman of the Year for 1970?”

He smirks. Then he wrinkles his nose, thinking.

I cock my head. “Not sure, smarty-pants?”

“Bobby Orr.”

I sigh. “Right. You win.”

“Attaboy.” Tori pats his shoulder. “No wonder you two are so good at those trivia nights you go to.”

“It’s good to have some purpose for all the useless information in my head,” I say, smiling.

Things still haven’t gone back to the fun atmosphere we were all enjoying before that little exchange between Mark and Tori. They keep looking at each other.

I gather up the tokens and Jax folds up the board.

“I’m going for a walk,” Tori announces. “I need some air.”

“It’s dark out,” Mark says.

“Really?” she says sarcastically. “Who would have thought it gets dark at night?” She heads to the door.

Mark rolls his eyes.

I bite my lip, packing up the game into its box. “Well. Who needs more wine?”

“I do,” Mrs. Thompson says eagerly.

“I need another beer.” Mark stands and picks up our glasses. “I’ll get you more wine, ladies.”

Mrs. Thompson gives him a small smile that suggests to me she doesn’t really hate him.

Mr. Thompson, on the other, glares balefully at Mark’s back as he walks to the kitchen.

I meet Jax’s eyes and he makes a face.

“We saw the Northern Lights,” I tell Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. “One of the first nights we were here. It was amazing.”

My change of subject works, and things feel somewhat easier when Mark returns and hands me and Mrs. Thompson a glass of wine. Mark keeps glancing at the door, though, as if watching for Tori.

Eventually he stands and says, “I’ll just go make sure Tori’s okay.”

“It’s pretty safe here, Dad,” Jax says quietly.

“Except for the bears,” I add. Then I clap my hand to my mouth and widen my eyes.

“Jesus,” Mark growls, striding out.

“We saw a bear one night,” I tell Jax’s grandparents.

“Yes, they do come into town occasionally,” Mrs. Thompson agrees calmly.

Mark and Tori still haven’t come back by the time I finish my wine. “Well, I think it’s bedtime for me,” I announce.

“Should I go look for Mom and Dad?” Jax asks.

Mrs. Thompson rises. “I’m sure they’re fine. I think I’ll head to bed, too.”

I help her gather up the glasses and set them in the dishwasher in the kitchen.

We hear voices outside and I peer out a window. Tori and Mark are sitting on the deck in the dark. “They’re outside,” I tell Jax, jerking my head.

“Ah. Okay.”

“Good night, everyone, “I say. “This was so fun.”

“It was fun. Good night, Molly.” Mrs. Thompson smiles at me, a warm, genuine smile that makes me feel at ease.

I use the bathroom and then shut myself in my bedroom.

Sitting on the side of the bed, I pout. Jax and I have been sleeping together every might for a couple of weeks now.

I don’t want to sleep alone. But with his family here, and us telling them we’re “just friends,” I guess we don’t have much choice.

I change into my nightshirt, keeping my socks on because it does get cool here at night and my feet are always cold, and crawl into bed. I turn on my Kindle to read for a while.

But I can’t focus on the story I’m reading. I keep thinking about Jax. I keep thinking about how kind he is, how he’s been my rock and my knight in shining armor. I could have saved myself. I mean, I did save myself. But he helped. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.

I like him so much. Oh God. This feeling…this swelling, warm feeling in my chest when I think about him. Not to mention the fact that I want to jump him every time I see him. This feels like more than liking him…it feels like love.

I’ve been in love before. And not that long ago. I was crazy about Steve. And yet…there’s something about this that’s different. I feel like Jax and I fit together.

There were ways Steve and I didn’t fit together.

He didn’t like dancing. Cooking. Reading.

Nothing wrong with people who don’t like those things, and I don’t think you have to like all the same things to be well-suited, but Jax and I always seem to be in sync—when it’s time to sit together quietly and read, when it’s time to get up and go for a hike.

We do some alone things, like he goes for a long solo run every morning, heads to the gym in Onanole to work out while I sit on the dock and gaze at the lake or do some yoga, but he good-naturedly tagged along as I explored the cute little gift shops and I had no problem following him while he hiked around taking photographs at Deep Bay.

The bedroom door opens quietly, and Jax slips in.

My heart bumps and I smile.

He closes the door quietly, takes a couple of steps and stretches out on the bed next to me.

I toss my Kindle aside. My entire body reaches out to him, every cell full of longing for him. “Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi.” He lifts a hand to smooth my hair back.

“You can’t sleep here.”

“I know. Fuck. But I want to kiss you goodnight.”

He rolls toward me, sets hand on my stomach over the quilt and leans in for a kiss. Our mouths meet in a long, heated kiss. We kiss again, and again, and I’m getting dizzy and hot.

God. I’m brimming. Overflowing with emotion and things I want to say to him. Does he feel the same?

When he draws back our eyes meet, and I search his face for any sign that he wants to say something, too. My pulse accelerates, my breath coming in tiny puffs. The air pulses around us and I wait, moments piling on moments as he cups my face, his thumb rubbing over my bottom lip.

“You’re beautiful, Molly.”

My face heats and my heart beats faster. “I wish you could stay.”

“Me too,” he groans. He kisses my forehead and rolls off the bed. “Good night, little trivia whiz.” He slips noiselessly from the room.

I close my eyes, my throat tightening and my lungs constricting.

I guess he doesn’t feel the same.

I mean, in fairness I didn’t say anything to him about how I feel. Oh my God. My feelings are getting way too caught up in all this. It’s a good thing I’m leaving Sunday.

I turn off the light and roll so my face is pressed into the pillow.