Page 21 of Whirlwind (Seattle Blades #4)

“ P orcupines.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” I tell Sadie, who is sprawled on my lap, barely awake, but not ready to stop playing our game of quiz. “They’re really good swimmers and can live up to twenty years.”

“They look like they’d sink.”

“I know, but I guess they don’t.”

“Um, slugs.”

“They have four noses.”

“That’s gross,” she says with a giggle.

“What about a slug isn’t gross?”

“Nothing,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “I think I’m getting a puppy for my birthday. But don’t tell my dad I know.”

“Okay, the secret is safe with me,” I say conspiratorially, as I look up to see Willa, who seems shocked her niece already knows about the apparent surprise.

“I hope it’s as cute as Nightmare,” she says.

She spent the entire first intermission looking through my pictures of him.

“I’m sure it will be equally as cute.”

“I guess it could be ugly, too. But it has to be friends with all the mermaids in the lake, or it can’t stay,” she says around a yawn.

They live on a floating house and Sadie has decided the lake is inhabited by merfolk.

“I’m sure it will love all your friends, and they will love it, too.”

“They better,” she says, her head popping up when she spots who’s just walked out of the locker room. I expect to see Cillian, but it’s not him.

“Tyson!”

Sadie sits up as he approaches, arms outstretched.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, lifting her from my lap. “What are you doing still awake?”

“Waiting for you slowpokes,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You played a great game.”

“Thank you,” he says, pride lighting his eyes.

Tyson’s mom, Francine, shifts next to me. I met his family for the first time tonight. I’d been nervous walking into the arena, but they were so kind and welcoming that I relaxed quickly.

Francine made a point of getting to know me, sitting beside me through the first period and intermission. She peppered me with questions—nothing too personal or hard to answer. When the second period started, she swapped seats with Lottie.

Tyson’s sister is amazing—so full of life, I could talk to her for hours. Tyson said we’d get along great. He wasn’t wrong. She’s sweet, smart, and sassy. All qualities I love in people.

His father, Will, is sweet, too, and was over the moon to see his son play again. He was as exuberant as a kid, and it was contagious. I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun at a game. Maybe I’m just more invested, now.

Until Tyson took that hit late in the game, we’d all been having the best time.

Lottie grabbed my hand when he was checked against the boards.

When he started throwing punches, she cheered him on with a zeal I didn’t know she had.

I couldn’t get excited—my anxiety over his potential injury wouldn’t let me. Francine’s reaction was much the same.

Sadie starts snoring softly on Tyson’s shoulder, finally giving in to exhaustion. Isla notices from where she’s chatting with a few of the other wives.

“Is she out?”

“Yeah,” Tyson answers.

“I’ll take her.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got her until Cillian comes out. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Are you sure? She’s getting so big and heavy.”

“I’m sure. I mi…it’s fine.”

Their conversation continues, Tyson’s family joining in as they catch up with Isla. I tune out, letting the buzz of the room distract me from the unwanted thoughts creeping in. I’m not a jealous person—especially not with Isla, who I love like a sister.

Yet, an uncomfortable sensation twists in my stomach. It’s new, foreign, and it makes me sad—mainly because I don’t know how to process it. Harder still that my first time feeling it is in a room full of people, many of them practical strangers I’ve only just met.

My fingers tense at my side, the urge to ball them up strong. I tuck them under my thigh, which helps a little. Isla isn’t the problem—she’s just being herself, friendly and polite. Tyson isn’t the problem, either…except my brain keeps trying to pin the unease on him.

When I glance up, I find him watching me. You good? he mouths.

At the same time, Willa slips into the empty seat next to me. Her hand rests beside the one I’ve hidden under my leg. She leans in, shoulder to shoulder.

“Need a break?” she asks quietly.

“I’m not sure,” I say, answering her and him at once. “It’s probably time to go home.”

“Damian and I can take you. We don’t need to wait for Zan—his car’s here.” I’d ridden with them, but the plan was to go home with Tyson, since we’re headed to the same place.

“Hey,” Tyson cuts in. “I can take you.” He reaches out to brush his free hand along the side of my head. I look up at him, and his concern only makes me more uncomfortable—drawing attention to me when I already feel off-balance.

“I don’t want to rush you,” I say, glancing toward his family.

“It’s all good,” he says. “I’m spending the whole day with them tomorrow. Let me take you home?”

My instinct is to say no. But it’s silly to refuse—especially when Damian and Willa would have to go out of their way. Tyson hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m the one feeling weird.

“If you’re sure you’re ready,” I say, linking my pinkie with Willa’s before I stand and turn to the Murphy family. “It was so great meeting all of you.”

“You, too, sweetheart,” Francine says. “I hope we see you again before we head home.”

“I’d like that,” I tell her.

“We’ll make it happen,” Tyson’s dad says, while Lottie throws her arms around me in a big hug.

“I’m so glad you like my brother,” she says, making me grin.

“I like you, too,” I say, squeezing her back. “Not just him.”

“That makes me happy,” she says, as Cillian finally comes out of the locker room and takes Sadie from Tyson. He doesn’t show any sign of distress that Isla’s ex is cradling his daughter or chatting up his wife.

Further proof that I’m the fucking weirdo here. When the rest of the group starts to say their goodbyes, Willa pulls me aside.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s…new. I’m struggling to keep my head on straight, is all.”

“Because you met his family?”

“No, that went great. I don’t even want to say the words, Willa.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s stupid to feel jealous. I’m not sure that’s even what it is, but I think it is.”

“Over his past with Isla?”

“Yes, and I hate myself for it.” I drop my head to stare at my scuffed up Doc Martens.

“Oh, honey. It’s a normal response,” she says. “I even had some moments with Zander and Damian early on because they were already together, and I didn’t know if I fit.”

“My brain understands that. My stomach has a different opinion.”

“It will catch up, I promise.”

“I’m putting my faith in that,” I say, pointing at her. “And thank you.”

“Always, Kit. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Tyson clasps my hand in his and leads me out of the arena to where he’s parked.

We don’t say anything until we’re settled in his SUV and driving down the street.

He reaches over again, taking my hand in his.

I stare at our fingers—his larger and rougher, mine darker.

I like the differences between them, even as they cling together as one.

He probably doesn’t realize tonight is the first time a man has ever held my hand—whether to guide me, comfort me, or simply touch me.

When he did it leaving the arena, I was surprised by how much I liked the quiet ownership in it.

Not that I want to belong to him—or anyone—but it’s nice to have someone who wants to look after me.

I should start writing down all the new things happening in my life.

I don’t want to forget them or take them for granted.

They should be cherished. Well, except for dumb stuff, like jealousy.

Maybe journaling would help me process it all.

I’ve never been in the habit, but I know it works for some people.

“I’m sorry if that was all too much. My family can be a lot.”

“No, they were very kind and welcoming. I didn’t feel nervous around them, at all.”

“But you were uncomfortable with something. I could see that,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles on my skin. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The last thing I want is for Tyson to start seeing me as a patient instead of the woman he’s dating—whatever it is we’re doing.

It’s not his job to psychoanalyze me. If I tell him the truth—that I didn’t enjoy watching how easily he and Isla communicate—will he think it’s endearing or utterly ridiculous? Will I stop being worth the investment?

My naivete threatens to derail us before we even start, and it’s so fucking frustrating.

“No,” I say bluntly. “Sharing the things I’m least proud of doesn’t hold much interest for me. But I also don’t want to start this relationship by hiding who I am or what I’m thinking.”

“I can appreciate that.”

“I’ll need you to do the same.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, glancing at me briefly. “Do you think I’m hiding something?”

“No,” I say, exasperated. I blow out a breath and stare out the window at the blurred lights of passing houses. “That’s not what I think. I’m just feeling very unhinged right now.”

Resting my forehead against the window, the cool glass feels like a wet washcloth on fevered skin—a balm for an unseen symptom. Tyson doesn’t press me for the rest of the drive.

“Let’s go get Nightmare,” he says when he parks in his driveway.

I unlock my front door and free my fur-baby from his crate.

Nightmare yips and circles us until we’re outside, so he can relieve himself.

Tyson still doesn’t say anything—just laughs and plays with him, which hints that he’s not upset over my drama.

That’s a relief; I avoid that kind of tension like the plague.

Still, my squirrel brain jumps from thought to thought—disappointed in myself, imagining how Tyson must hate dealing with me when he has such a high-pressure career.

“Kit,” he says, stepping in front of me. “Grab his crate. Come home with me so we can talk you off whatever ledge you’re on.”