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1
August
I t’s McKenna and my twenty-first birthday today. We didn’t go out last night at midnight because she had a volleyball match this afternoon, but I’m taking Mack out tonight and told her I wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“I already arranged for Dakota to watch Cadence while we’re out celebrating. She’s planning to stay the night and watch her tomorrow morning too, for the guaranteed hangover we’ll have,” I tell Mack as we drive back to my place from her match.
As I pull up to the stoplight, I glance over at my twin sister and see she winces at my words. “I don’t know, Carse. You know I’m not a big drinker, especially in season and since I’ve had Cadence.”
“Fine, no hangover for you. Just a few drinks to ring in our milestone birthday together.”
McKenna has had a challenging two years, and I just want to give her the opportunity to let loose and have a reason to celebrate. Her childhood best friend and our next-door neighbor, Katie Turner, passed away almost two years ago in a car accident. Mack was in the car with her and, as a result, was in a coma for two days. She’s had to deal with a lot of survivor’s guilt along with her grief over losing her best friend.
Not to mention the fact that Katie’s older brother, Griffin, was McKenna’s boyfriend at the time. Katie’s death tore them apart, and Griff left my sister heartbroken. As if that wasn’t enough, Mack discovered she was pregnant with Griffin’s child a few months later. The fallout from her telling him was something I never anticipated.
Loss changes people—it certainly changed me. I never thought Griff would abandon my pregnant sister and his child, but I’ve also never lost my sister, who is my best friend. Though I almost did . I’m not trying to validate his actions because they’re inexcusable, but I know I’d be lost without my sister. We’ve done everything in life together from day one, which is another reason I’m not allowing her to back out of celebrating our twenty-first birthday together.
“I already told Brooke to invite a few of your teammates, and Mom and Dad are joining us, so you have to show up at least,” I add.
“How did you even get Dakota’s number?”
“You have it on the fridge on the ‘Cadence contacts’ list,” I explain. She doesn’t need to know that I added it to my phone contacts the second I saw it on the fridge. I was itching for a chance to use it, and our birthday was the perfect excuse.
Mack also doesn’t need to know that the handful of times Dakota has come over to watch Cadence, I’ve made it my mission to squeeze in a few extra minutes at home to get to know her better.
My conversations with Dakota have been few, but I look forward to each little interaction like an addict waiting for my next fix.
Speaking of my little addiction, Dakota opens the front door of my house with Cadence on her hip, waving excitedly to us as we pull into the driveway. Coming home to the two of them feels right. It makes me want things with Dakota that I know I’ll never get.
You’re just barely friends, remember?
Right, I told myself I could be her friend. She had said she didn’t have many of them here in Minnesota since she grew up in Texas. I just needed to remind myself that’s all we can be.
But god, she looks so cute in her jean short overalls with a white tank top underneath. Her long hair is pulled up into one of those clips she loves so much when she’s nannying so Cadence doesn’t tug her hair—it’s my little stinker-butt niece’s favorite thing to do.
Mack gets out in the driveway and runs up to them before I pull my truck into the garage. She never likes leaving Cadence, and she always feels guilty. Typically, I would bring Cadence to Mack’s game with me, but today’s match was during nap time, and believe me, it is in everyone’s best interest that Cadence gets her beauty sleep.
I turn off the ignition to my truck and take a deep breath. Each time I’ve come home in the last few weeks since Dakota has started nannying, I’ve had to give myself a pep talk before going inside. Seeing her knocks the air from my lungs, my attraction to her still hasn’t waned—if anything, it’s gotten stronger.
Shaking those thoughts, I get out of my truck and walk inside through the garage door. I hang up my keys and take off my shoes in the mudroom before heading down the hallway into the kitchen.
This house wasn’t what I envisioned myself getting at only twenty years old. I didn’t think that instead of a bachelor pad condo in the city, I’d have a five-bedroom home in the suburbs for my rookie season in the NHL.
McKenna and I gained access to our trust funds earlier this month, and with the signing bonus I got from the Wolverines, I had more than enough money to buy Cadence and Mack the home they deserved.
The strange thing is, I don’t even miss the bachelor lifestyle. Just because I didn’t envision it working out this way doesn’t mean I don’t absolutely love coming home to Cadence and Mack living with me. I’ve never been good at being alone. I like to be supportive—to feel needed. It’s what fills my cup when I’m running on empty.
I swear, the moment my little Cadey Cat came into my life, my world shifted and began to revolve solely around her.
Some have referred to me as the “funcle,” the fun uncle . . . okay, so maybe I’m the only one that refers to me as that, but it’s true. I know how to have a good time and make others around me feel at ease.
It’s just that, for me, being in my head isn’t always the most fun place to be. Ever since Cadence was born—hell, before that, if I’m being honest with myself—I’ve had crippling anxiety. I’m fucking scared all the time that something is going to happen to her, or Mack, or anyone I love and care about. I likely need to purge my insecurities and anxious thoughts to a therapist. But when you are the number three all-around draft pick and highly anticipated NHL prospect, you don’t want to be seen coming in and out of a therapist’s office. It doesn’t photograph well. Online therapy? Sure, I could attempt that, but I don’t have much time before the season begins.
Dakota, Mack, and Cadence are all in the kitchen now getting started on dinner. Mack connects her phone to the sound system, and soon “Wildest Dreams (Taylor’s Version)” floods the space.
I can’t hide the chuckle when Dakota picks up a wooden spoon and starts singing the chorus into it like it’s a microphone. Mack has Cadence on her hip and is singing so off-key it makes me cringe, but I love her enthusiasm nonetheless. When they spot me laughing at them, Mack points to me and says, “Get to work! These veggies aren’t going to cut themselves.”
After washing my hands, I set up my cutting station beside Dakota. I lean down so she can hear me over the music. “Thank you for watching Cadey Cat earlier and for being willing to stay over tonight to watch her. I really appreciate it, Austen.” I don’t mean to, but we’re so close that my cheek grazes hers as I pull away. Heat floods my system from the innocent touch just as Dakota’s breath hitches.
She clears her throat. “No need to thank me. I love watching Cadence. And occasional overnights were part of the job description.”
“I know, but this is different,” I remind her as I stare into her emerald eyes. “Mack isn’t playing volleyball tonight. And you’re staying because I asked you to, not her. I just wanted to thank you again for your flexibility. McKenna doesn’t get many opportunities to celebrate herself these days. I wanted this for her, and you’re a big part of why this was possible.”
She swallows, wetting her lips before she replies. “I’m happy I was able to help, birthday boy. Now, like your sister said,” she points down before continuing, “those veggies aren’t going to cut themselves.”
I smile to myself as I get to work cutting up the vegetables. This feels domesticated as fuck, but I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday.
After dinner with our parents, they join us as we meet up with a group of our college friends at The Wolf Den, a bar close to the arena where I’ll be playing my home games this season for the Wolverines. A few of my new teammates frequent this bar and told me we had to come by for a celebratory round.
It might seem weird to have our parents join us at the bars on our twenty-first birthday, but we’re a really close-knit family. Losing all that we’ve lost recently has only brought us closer together.
I make my way to the booths in the back of the bar, where I spot Bennett and Jackson Wilson. They are two buddies of mine from high school who are now my new teammates. Bennett was recently appointed captain, and Jackson was invited to training camp that starts next month, where I hope he will earn himself a spot on the final roster.
After giving them each a handshake and back pat, I ask, “Have you been here long? Who else from the team is here?”
Bennett and Jax look like the brothers they are with their tall, broad stature, but their similarities stop at their looks and hockey. As far as their personalities and interests go, they couldn’t be more different.
If I were to describe Jax, I’d say he’s carefree, laidback, and easygoing. Bennett, on the other hand, is an extremely hard worker who likes structure and keeps things close to his chest.
As usual, Jax answers for the two of them. “It’s just us so far. Hughesy and Pacer texted me a bit ago to say they were on their way. Happy birthday, Carsey-baby. I can’t believe the babies of the group are finally twenty-one.”
“Fuck off with that, Jax. You only turned twenty-one last month,” I remind him.
“Semantics.” He grins. “Let me get you a shot. Pick your poison wisely. It’s about to be a long night.”
“Not too long of a night, Jax. We’ve got conditioning tomorrow afternoon,” Bennett says.
“It’s not even an official conditioning. It’s just the two of us,” Jax replies.
Bennett sets his shoulders. “You haven’t signed a contract yet, J. Being invited to training camp isn’t a guarantee of anything. It doesn’t matter how good of a season you had last year. That was college, and this is the show. You’re going to have to keep working your ass off, never letting up, if you want to make the final roster this season.”
There’s the serious big brother I’ve come to know Bennett as.
Jax’s jaw works before he lets out a scoff. “I’m more than aware of what’s at stake. As if our daddy dearest reminding me every day wasn’t enough, now I have to look forward to you busting my balls too. Maybe I should go back to Harvard this season.”
I cut in, not wanting them to argue anymore. “And miss out on being on a line together again? Fuck that. Come on, Jaxy, let’s get that shot, and then we can talk strategy about how we’re going to pad our stats this season.”
Jax’s shoulders relax, and his easy-going smile takes over his face. “Damn, Carse. I missed you. It’s good to be back.”
We head to the bar, where Mack orders a drink with a few of her volleyball teammates.
“There she is! McKenna Marie, get over here, my little M&M,” Jax says as he opens his arms for Mack.
She turns, running into his arms before he lifts her up and spins her around. “Jax! I missed you so much. How was Harvard, you fricken scholar?”
“Glad to see someone doesn’t think I’m some Ivy League snob now.” Jax sets Mack back down.
“Never! God, I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you since—” Mack trails off, not wanting to say it out loud. The last time she saw Jackson was at Katie’s funeral. A day that pains us all too much to speak of.
“It’s been too long, for sure. But I hear my M&M has been killing it on the court.” Jax comfortably changes the subject.
“I don’t know if I’d say killing it. But this season is off to a great start,” Mack replies. She’s being modest. She is killing it. Even after having Cadence, she played on the team last season. She didn’t get a starting spot for most of last year, but this season, the coach hasn’t taken her off the court for a single minute.
“Well, if I can get my shit together and make the final roster, I plan to come watch you kick some ass on the court,” Jax promises. “And I need to meet the girl that has taken up residence in Carsey’s heart.”
My pulse skyrockets. How in the hell does he know about Dakota? I haven’t told a single soul.
“I’ll hold you to that. Feel free to come by anytime—I’d love for you to meet Cades. Though I must warn you, she’s a little heartbreaker,” Mack gushes as she pulls out her phone to show Jax some pictures on her phone.
Shit. Of course he was just talking about Cadence. Looks like I really need that shot after all.
By one shot, Jax meant ten. I am officially tipsy as I stumble out of my parents’ SUV and walk up the front steps to my house. Mack is barely buzzed—something killed her mood after she started to have a good time dancing with my former college roommate, Ian. Though she’s keeping tightlipped about what it is that’s bugging her. I hate when she does that. It’s got to be the twin thing, or maybe the older brother in me, but I can’t stand to see her down like this.
After struggling to get my keys in the lock a few times, Mack grabs them out of my hand and lets us into the house. She quickly darts up the steps—to check on Cadence, I’m guessing.
I take off my shoes as quietly as possible so I don’t wake anyone. I make it a few steps into the house before the sight in front of me has me stopping in my tracks.
Dakota has made a bed of blankets on the floor of my living room. She’s nestled in front of the fireplace, reading a book I can’t quite make out from here.
I knew she was a paperback-by-the-fire kind of girl.
“A fire in late August, Austen?” I tease.
Dakota nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears me. She must have been so enveloped in her book that she didn’t hear us come in.
“Oh my gosh! You startled me. I’m so sorry about the fire. I got a chill and, well, it’s just such a beautiful fireplace that I started a fire. But you’re right. It’s wasteful to start a fire this time of year. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Dakota shoots to her feet and turns off the fireplace.
I frown, my eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Dakota, there’s no need to apologize. I don’t care if you start a fire every night you’re here. I was just heckling you.”
Her shoulders ease slightly at my words, but her face is still filled with worry, and she’s hidden the book she was reading behind her back.
Needing to lighten the mood, I ask, “What were you reading tonight? Pride and Prejudice ?”
“Um, no. Jane Eyre .”
I love asking her what she’s reading. Her cheeks always blush, and she looks at me in wonderment as if my being inquisitive about what she’s interested in is a bewildering thing to her. I have mixed feelings about it—I both crave that look in her eyes and resent it because it likely means she’s not used to someone being fascinated by her. And everything Dakota does fascinates me.
“Ah, a Bront?-by-the-fire kind of night. I can see why you didn’t hear us come in.”
“I had the baby monitor right beside me in case Cadence woke up,” she reassures me, pointing to the coffee table where the monitor is.
I just nod my head in acknowledgment.
“It’s late. I should probably head to bed,” she suggests.
“Do you need anything for your room?” I ask. This morning, I finished setting up the guest room where she’ll be staying the night. I want to make sure I didn’t forget anything. One last minute Target run had me buying all sorts of shit I never thought I’d purchase. And who knew there was an entire aisle just for candles? I spent nearly twenty minutes picking out the perfect candle to set on her bedside table.
“No, it’s great. Thank you so much for putting that together. You didn’t need to go through the extra trouble. I could’ve slept on the couch.”
“I would’ve had you sleep in my bed before making you sleep on the couch,” I say, my voice coming out rough.
She doesn’t say anything. Her cheeks just blush an adorable shade of pink that matches her pink and white cotton pajama set. Her hair is down, pulled back from her face with a headband, and her face is clear of makeup. It strikes me again—her effortless beauty. I have to physically brush the tightness from my chest with my hand.
“Can I walk you up?”
“To my room?” she asks.
I nod in reply.
She laughs. “Your house is big, but it’s not that big, Golden Boy. I don’t think I’ll get lost on my way upstairs.”
That. That right there is something I love—her quick wit and hearing her give me shit. And I love hearing her call me Golden Boy. She’s reclaimed a name that was once given to me by the media and made me long to hear it leave her lips.
“I won’t apologize for wanting to be a gentleman. If you’d like, I’ll even check under the bed and in the closet for the Boogeyman and tuck you in tight.”
“Quite the host. Do you do that for all of the women you have stay the night?”
“The only women who have stayed the night in this house are my sister and my niece. You’re the first guest I’ve offered my turndown services to.” I wink and feel slightly more buzzed by the twinkle in her eyes flickering back to life.
Come on, Austen. Play with me.
Dakota squares her shoulders to me. “Is that so? Well, I’m just tickled pink to hear that I’m your first guest. What does this turndown service entail?”
I close some of the distance between us, giving her a rakish smirk. “Oh, you know. It includes turning back the comforter and shutting off the lights.”
She taps her finger to her chin. “Hmm, sounds like any other run-of-the-mill service to me.”
“Well, if you’re a good girl, I’ll even tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story,” I rasp.
Her breath hitches, and her cheeks burn brighter. “I’m quite sure that if you did that, I would be the very opposite of a good girl,” she breathes before slipping past me toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Golden Boy,” she calls over her shoulder.
My stomach somersaults as I stand there dumbfounded, my jaw damn near on the floor.
“Goodnight, Austen,” I reply when I finally regain my composure. I watch as she retreats up the stairway. My willpower not to follow her should be applauded. Dakota’s presence tests me more and more with each encounter.
You can only be friends , I remind myself, repeating my new mantra for the thousandth time.