Chapter 17 #2
I make it to class just in time, trying to brush off the interaction with Cirella, but there’s something about it—about her—that I just can’t fully shake.
Not during class or the bike ride home.
Not while doing my routine that I do before every game.
Not as we’re stepping on the ice for warm-ups.
And not even when we obliterate the Pirates.
We end up beating them seven to two. I’m pretty sure half of them left the arena in tears.
Griff got into a fight after one of their guys blew through the crease, practically tackling Finny. Finny didn’t help himself after the fact, only egging the guy on even though he knew he wouldn’t do shit without starting an all-out war.
Griff took care of him though, and Finny was a little schoolgirl, thanking him for having his back.
Fucking goalies, man. They are the weirdos of the world, but you’ve got to love them.
Dean and I have a few texts waiting for us when we get back to the locker room—some from our girl and some from our dad. From good and from evil. What a stark comparison.
I open my dad’s first to get them over with.
Dad: We need to talk about the plans for next week when Adrianna and I get back. We have the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. I need you both to be fully prepared and rehearsed.
Dad: Let’s not fight, please. I love you both.
The love you catches me off guard. He’s always been an affectionate father, but less so since our mom passed. He’s isolated himself, which I can understand, but if that side of him is surfacing again, maybe the normal version of him is too.
I love you too. See you soon. Travel safe.
Now on to my girl.
Her messages are in the group chat with Dean and me.
Princess: You guys kicked ass tonight!!! I’m so proud!!! I was cheering from my bedroom!!!
Dean: We could hear you, loud and clear, baby.
Next time, we’d love to hear you in person.
Princess: I promise I’ll be to a game soon.
My impatience gets the best of me, and I ask the question I know is haunting Dean too.
When can we see you again?
Dean: We miss you.
Princess: Soon. I promise. I just have to deal with a few things first before I can get away. I’m hoping this weekend or next at the latest.
Dean: Can we help speed it up at all?
Better make it quick, or we’ll track you down ourselves.
Princess: Both of you are ridiculous, but I love it. I’ll be with you again soon. I promise.
Soon, as in, like … tonight?
Princess: I wish.
Dean: Us too, baby.
She falls radio silent, not messaging us the entire rest of the night. She must know she has us wrapped around her finger, hanging on to every word. And we’ll wait as long as it takes for her to come around.
“Where do you want these?” Malik asks, carrying two full boxes of cups.
Maria directs him, taking charge. “This way.”
Thankfully, she’s being cool about this whole party, and at least so far, she hasn’t snitched to my father.
Let’s hope it stays that way, or this is going to get a lot more awkward between Dean and her on a day-to-day basis.
Our father and Adrianna left about an hour ago and should be taking off soon, jetting off to Turks and Caicos for the next few days.
I think it’s kind of insane, given they’ll be going on a post-wedding vacation in less than two weeks. I would call it a honeymoon, but they’re not really honeys.
Our father is kind to her and compliments her, but I don’t think it’s a secret to either of them that their relationship lacks genuine affection.
Griffin, Blair, Malik, Alora, Elias, and Finn all showed up to help tonight. We really don’t need that many bodies, but it’s sort of a little party before the party. They’re going to help us decorate and get the house ready for tomorrow.
Some of the house staff have even offered to help, and we’ll take all hands on deck. We’re going all out for this. No skimping on decorations, alcohol, guest list, none of it. We’re all in.
Alora and Blair walk over to where Dean and I are attempting to untangle a few strands of lights that were used for the engagement party.
“How many hockey players does it take?” Blair giggles, opening her hands, asking to take over, and I happily let her.
Alora laughs with her, reaching for the part Dean’s holding. “More than it should.”
“Rude,” I scoff. “But thank you.”
“Of course—Cirella!” Alora shouts excitedly, looking behind me. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Sunny brushes against my leg, and I give her a couple pets before turning around and finding Cirella looking over here nervously.
“Hey, I’m here to help!” She smiles, her gaze bouncing between me and Alora, if you can count the millisecond it stays on me each time.
Why is she so nervous around me? Maybe it’s because she works for my family and is just trying to be professional.
“Are you working for the house?” Alora asks, no judgment in her tone.
Cirella nods. “Yeah. So, if there’s anything you guys need, please let me know.”
“I found them!” Dean strolls into the foyer, a tote bin in his arm—which is full of wristbands, if I have to guess.
His gaze instantly falls to Cirella, and déjà vu hits me like a truck. But as fast as it comes, it’s gone.
Everything is reminding me of Princess right now, and I’m going to officially lose my mind.
Dean studies the back of her, brows furrowed as he looks at her like an alien, trying to decipher what she is.
Dude, you’re going to freak her out.
As if he can hear my thoughts, his gaze flicks up to mine. He looks at me with a crazed gleam in his eye, and I can’t tell what it is.
“I’m so excited to show you guys your customs. I should have them ready this weekend,” Cirella tells the girls, who squeal with excitement.
“I know they’re going to be amazing, Cirella. Those sketches and progress pics are perfect.” Alora beams. “You’re so talented.”
“Thank you,” Cirella says coyly, tucking her chin to her chest.
Her arms snake around herself, crisscrossing over her waist, and the image immediately causes another nauseating sensation of déjà vu.
The world stops spinning, and my blood runs cold. No way.
That exact movement, that self-soothing tactic she’s doing right now, I’ve seen it before … from one very special person.
Dean’s eyes meet mine, slightly wide.
He saw it too.
Could she really be Princess? Could she have been living under our roof this entire time without us realizing it?
“Hey, Cirella. Would you be able to help Dean and me—” My phone rings loudly in my hand, cutting me off mid-sentence.
It’s my father.
I turn the phone, showing Dean, whose face instantly falls.
Aggressively, he rants, “Shouldn’t he be in the air right now?”
“Yep,” I groan before answering the call, my voice even and calm. “Hello?”
“Asher. Change of plans. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. The weather is turning sour, and the pilot doesn’t feel comfortable taking the jet up.” He pauses as my heart rate kicks into overdrive. “We’re on our way home.”
“Shit.”