“Are you guys cool now? Did you fix it? I’m so sorry. So, so, so, so sorry,” he chants. “I fucked up again because of my stupid mouth, and—”
Oskar approaches him, but Dex flinches as Oskar clasps his shoulder. “We’re cool. Tripp and I decided we’d be better off as friends, so go have your vacation with him.”
Dex’s mouth gapes while he looks at me. “Tripp?”
What’s the best way to cover a big fat lie? With another lie … apparently.
Tripp Mitchell’s self-help book, coming soon.
“I told you. Oskar farts like crazy. Not relationship material right there.”
“I do not,” Oskar says. “Maybe you’re smelling your own ass because you’re full of shit.”
“Ah, friend Oskar is back. Yay,” I say.
“And friend Tripp is back,” Dex says. “Right?”
“Right.”
Dex smiles, but then it quickly drops. “You guys didn’t really break up because of me, did you?”
Oskar and I share a look.
“Nah,” Oskar says. “It just wasn’t right.”
“Agreed. We’re better as friends.”
Dex’s grin is back. “In that case, race you to the lake for a swim?”
It’s one of Dex’s best and worst traits. He’s so quick to trust in what he’s told, which is great for when I want him to let something go. Not so great when he sees clickbait on the internet about official alien sightings confirmed by NASA.
I push him out of the way to run to my room for my trunks. “You’re on.”
The second half of the vacation is a million times better than the first. When the guys aren’t interfering and being jackasses, worrying about my heart and my feelings, the tension level drops dramatically. And I think the whole boyfriend situation might have finally clued Dex in about giving me space. Maybe. He hasn’t once tried to sleep next to me, so that’s something. Though it doesn’t stop him from slipping in next to me to wake me up. An elbow to the gut usually helps to make him go away, but today, he’s relentless.
“It’s the last day,” he says. “We need to get one more swim in before we leave.”
“I can’t. My trunks are all packed. Shame.” I reach blindly behind me and pat Dex’s cheek. “Have fun. I’m going to keep sleeping.”
“Nope. Swim. Even if I have to carry you out there myself.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“You say that like you think I can’t pick you up.”
“You can’t.”
“Oh, hell no.” Dex jumps up and rounds the bed.
I turn to dead weight as he tries to get his arms under me—one under my knees and one under my neck.
All he manages to do is drag me and drop me on the floor.
“Ow,” I complain.
“Then help me.”
“Nope. You said you could do it.”
“I’m getting you in that water. End of story.”
“Okay.” I continue to lie on the carpet, refusing to move, and when Dex gives up trying to lift me, he resorts to dragging me by my ankles.
He grunts while I laugh, even if the carpet stings my back as he pulls me all the way down the hall.
“What are you guys doing?” Oskar asks from the living room.
“I’m throwing Tripp in the lake in his underwear.”
“Ooh, I’m in.”
Next thing I know, Oskar joins Dex and grabs my arms.
“No!” I yell.
Between them both, they carry me outside and don’t let me go no matter how much I struggle. I’m probably stronger than both of them but not combined.
“You two should go back to all the hostility from last week. Be mean to each other, not to me. I’m loveable, damn it.”
They ignore me and carry me down to the single dock at the back of our rental property and throw me off the end.
“I hate you both!” I yell before making a splash and getting a ton of water in my mouth.
“What?” Oskar holds his hand up to his ear. “Can’t hear you.”
I throw up both my middle fingers.
While Oskar goes back inside the house, Dex comes running for me. He dives off the end of the dock, and I suddenly become a shark victim in a horror movie, moving in a circle, trying to see where he is.
Something grabs my foot and yanks me down.
Dex and I fight and struggle, but it’s hard not to take in water when you’re laughing through it all.
This is the epitome of Dex and me. This is us. Everything is fun with him. We goof around. And his carefree attitude is one of the many reasons I fell in love with him.
The NHL pressure can be intense, especially if you’re having a really good season or a really bad one. When you’re on a winning streak, the need to maintain it could make any player choke, and as a goalie, the pressure is only tenfold. Dex takes me away from all that, and I think it’s why we became fast friends.
He’s my escape.
We swim for a bit until we must lose track of time because Oskar, who we’re sharing a ride with to the airport later, comes back outside and waves us in, holding out two towels.
“Shit, are we running late?” I ask as we reach him on the dock.
I pull myself up and dry off.
“Nope. Both of your phones have been going off for the last five minutes.” Oskar holds up my phone.
“It’s the team PR department.” I’m still wet, but I take the phone anyway and answer. “Tripp Mitchell.”
“We need a meeting,” Graham Thompson says.
“Uh, okay? When? Dex and I fly back into Vegas later today.”
“Good. Both of you. Head office. What time can you get here?”
“Uh, we land at three, and then we’ll drop our bags off—”
“Nope. See you here at three thirty.”
“Wait, what do you—”
Graham ends the call, and my gut sinks.
Something’s wrong.
We rush to finish packing, and then we say goodbye to Ezra and Anton, who are flying back to Boston on the red-eye tonight.
We get to the airport early, which was probably a waste of time because the plane isn’t ever going to take off early, but I can’t help stressing about why Graham would want to see me. No, not just me, but Dex as well.
Zen and peace. Zen and peace.
Dex thinks it has something to do with a promo opportunity in the off-season, but he didn’t hear Graham’s voice. It was like a parent telling their child to come home because the kid accidentally burned down the house.
I don’t tell Dex that though. I don’t want him to freak out like I am.
A quick Google search doesn’t show anything about our nuptials—the first couple of pages of results are all about our friendship and hockey stats—but I can’t shake the feeling that’s what this is about.
I’m so nervous the entire flight home that my leg bounces the whole way, and Dex finally catches on that something’s not right.
“Why do you look so worried? What do you think it is?” He pales. “A trade?”
“No. They wouldn’t need us both for that. Unless we’re both being traded, but after our season and making it to the finals, thanks in large part to us, I doubt it. The most logical conclusion is that they found out about the fake wedding.”
“Oh, fuck. How?”
“Who knows? I couldn’t find anything online. But … what else would it be?”
“Like I said, promo opportunity.”