With no help from him. Well, except for money, but he wasn't supportive. More like an a.s.shole. Without the coaches we had growing up, we might have not gotten to where we are. Oh, and my mom. She was awesome. Always the best at pushing us to greatness. I love my mom. Maybe I should call her. Before I can, my phone dings with another text.

Dad: Hoping you can join me and Ellen for dinner this week?

s.h.i.t. No way in h.e.l.l do I want to go to dinner with him and his wh.o.r.e.

Me: Hey, thanks. I'll have to get back to you. Cla.s.ses are kicking my a.s.s and I have to train hard since the season is starting.

Dad: Sure. Just let me know. When is the first game?

d.a.m.n it. Jude and Jayden are supposed to come to my first game, and of course, my mom and Lucy. I'll get so much s.h.i.t if they know I invited him, but what am I supposed to do? He just gave me money.

"f.u.c.k."

"What?" Markus asks as I look up to find him staring at me, confused. I tell him my situation and he shakes his head. "Yo, Jude and Jayden told you to cut it off with him."

"He's my dad, Markus."

"Yeah, but he's a douche, and you know it. You just like the money he throws at you."

"Who wouldn't?"

"Hey, I'm not hating. I'm just saying if you want to play with fire, be prepared to burn. 'Cause if he does come, your brothers are gonna murder you and your mom is gonna be crushed."

"Yeah." I look back down at my phone.

Me: Mom, Jude, Jayden, and Lucy will be there.

I don't have to wait long for his response.

Dad: Okay? You're my son. If I want to watch you play, I can.

After I read the text to Markus, he shakes his head in disgust. "Just ignore him."

When my phone signals another text, I glance down at my phone to see it's him again.

Dad: If I run into them, I'll say that Ralph invited me.

Well, that solves my issue. They wouldn't question his friend, who is also my agent, inviting him. But when I tell this to Markus, he doesn't look convinced.

"Sure, that covers your a.s.s. But do you want your mom to be upset?"

"No," I say almost immediately. "But you know, he probably won't make it."

But Markus rolls his eyes, leaning back in his bed as I look back down at my phone. "You do you, homie, but I think it's a bad idea."

"I hear you."

And I do, but this way may work and it will cover my bases. I won't feel like a d.i.c.k because he just gave me money, and my mom won't ever know.

So why do I feel so guilty?

Dad: Jace?

Me: Yeah, sorry, it's the 3rd.

Dad: I'll be there. Let me know if you need anything.

Me: Will do.

"He said he's gonna come, but I doubt it." Markus shakes his head. "What?"

"It's s.h.i.tty, dude. Your mom doesn't need to be dealing with that."

Shame washes over me because he's right. But what was I supposed to do? I don't want to work right now, not when the season is starting and I am trying to holler at Avery. My time is going to be completely taken up between hockey and her. I don't have time for a job, but I like to have money. Last year, I didn't have anything except for my scholarship money, and that didn't last me all year. I had to work all summer because it wasn't like my mom could give me anything or support me. She was struggling to get by herself. It's hard watching your mom struggle, so of course, I threw money her way. She didn't like it, but she's my mom. I'd leave twenties on the counter or in her purse. I had to support her.

I had to do my part, but when my dad offered to send me money at the beginning of August, I didn't turn him down. I needed a new stick and skates and had planned on buying them, but I needed books first. Then the money just kept coming, followed by the car. Yeah, it p.i.s.sed my mom off, I could tell. But I miss not having to worry about money. It's nice, and if he wants to support me until I get into the NHL, then I'm going to let him. I just have to figure out how to do it without it coming back and hurting my mom.

I won't let anything hurt her.

My dad is still stalling on the divorce and paying her alimony. Makes me wonder if that's why he's so eager to throw money at me. Less for her to have when it's all settled.

But Markus is right. I'm playing with fire, and it sort of makes me nervous. I know how my mom gets when she sees my dad. She isn't over his betrayal, and I don't blame her. But there has got to be a way to keep my mom happy and take my dad for all he's worth. h.e.l.l, he owes it to me. To all of us. He ripped apart our family. So yeah, I'm going to take his money and his gifts-anything to make life a little easier since the last two years have kind of sucked. Or maybe I'm making excuses for being a spoiled brat who doesn't want to work for what he needs.

Who knows, but before I can answer Markus or tell him I've got this, my phone dings with a Facebook notification.

Avery Rose accepted your friend request.

"Ha! She accepted me."

"Well, she did sleep with you. It's sorta protocol. And hey, means you were good in bed."

Rolling my eyes at him, I click on her picture and then I'm full-out Facebook-stalking her. She doesn't have much on her page. No pictures of anything but herself and her guitar. When I find that she has no tagged photos, I think that's weird, but what she does have are thousands of videos.

"She has a YouTube channel." I click on the link. Markus comes onto the floor with me, and then we are watching video after video of her. She's amazing and so d.a.m.n talented. I love music-I mean, who doesn't? But I swear I could listen to her smoky voice all day long. It's just mesmerizing, and I love watching someone who is pa.s.sionate about something. It's obvious that music is everything to her, and it's a beautiful thing to watch.

Leaning my head back, I click on the newest video, which was uploaded thirty minutes ago.

"Hi! Avery Rose here, and thanks for watching!"

She looks hot and makes me feel like a lovestruck, idiot kid. Her hair is in a pile on her head, and she has little to no makeup on while in a cute little black dress that hangs off her shoulder. She looks like she did this morning when she woke up beside me. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright, and I swear, I've never seen someone as beautiful as her.

"She is cute."

He says it like it's a bad thing and I smile. "Gorgeous is more like it."

Markus shrugs then as the video of her goes on. "So I wrote this song this morning, like total word vomit, and I have to share it. So here it goes. It's unt.i.tled right now. Nothing really fits it, you know? But if you listen to this and think you've got something, please comment below. So, yeah, enjoy and thanks!"

And then she is singing.

And I'm a goner.

A f.u.c.king goner.

I don't care what anyone says, but this song is about me and there is no doubting it. The words describe our night together and even the way she traced her tongue along the curve of my hip. It's our song. Our night together, and holy s.h.i.t, she sings the h.e.l.l out of it. It's one thing to experience something so special with someone, but to know you inspired them to write a song this beautiful and this meaningful is something else.

Something I can't even put into words.

"So, I got a name for the song." I don't look over at him since I can't take my eyes off her, but I know he is smiling, his voice full of humor.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, my night with Jace f.u.c.king Sinclair."

Seems about right.

But I have something better.

When she finishes, she sends one last grin that I swear it hits me straight in the gut. Why does one little smile feel like scoring the winning goal? Jeez, she is something. Biting into my lip, I hit comment and log in to YouTube before typing out what I think the name should be.

"Oooh, good one," Markus comments.

"Right?"

Laughing beside me, he says, "And I get it. She's sorta cool."

I chuckle at his understatement as I go to her Facebook page. "She's more than cool. She's f.u.c.king amazing, and I have to know everything about her.

"Okay, stop all that girlie s.h.i.t. I said, I get it."

I knock my shoulder into his, and he laughs as I grin, going to her wall and leave her a post: Jace Sinclair > Avery Rose.

Heya, Avery Rose. I checked out that video you posted and I got a name for you.

Beneath Him.

Yeah, I know it's amazing.

Almost as amazing as you.

Can't wait to see you tonight.

Love, Jace.

Before I can post it, though, Markus says, "Dude, take the 'love' off. You seem like a stalker-a.s.s loser."

"Screw you!"

But I delete it.

Just in case.

I have turned into a Facebook-stalker.

Or creeper?

Or something along those lines.

Because I'm officially obsessed with Jace's Facebook. I mean, there is so much to look at. He has billions of funny posts, and I've decided the dude is hilarious, but I kind of already knew that. I mean, he was throwing lame-a.s.s lines at me left and right on the fly, but the stuff on his page is gold. Really. For a week, he did the adventures of his left sock. His left sock was found all over the place: on the ice, on a girl's b.u.t.t, in Markus's hair, and I swear, it has been the highlight of my day.

Well, minus the time I spent with him this morning.

Along with his funny posts and goofy profile pictures, he has more pictures of his family on his Facebook than I think I've ever taken of my family-in, like, my whole life. That's doesn't mean much though in my case, but it's obvious he loves his family. Like, really loves them. He's a momma's boy; there is an alb.u.m just for pictures of him and his mom, which is downright adorable. There are a lot of pictures of who I am a.s.suming is his sister. She looks just like him, but the pictures are usually of her with a small little girl and then some of her flipping the camera off. She seems like a hoot in my opinion.

And then, there are the pictures of him and his brothers.

Holy. s.h.i.t.

Mekena wasn't playing when she said the Sinclair brothers were hot. Hot isn't even the right word to describe the three pieces of man meat I've been staring at for more time than I'd like to admit. Smoldering. Blazing. s.h.i.t, they are all so beautiful. They are like Greek hockey G.o.ds or something. So hot. There is an alb.u.m of a vacation they took to Florida that includes a lot of shirtless pictures of Jace. Easy to say, that's my favorite alb.u.m.

Glancing at the clock from my phone, I realize I have an issue.

I've spent the last hour and a half dissecting Jace's Facebook. But it's just so easy to get lost in him and his life. It's like a fairy tale. He is obviously loved and he loves life. I'm jealous. Just watching him grow through the years was magical, but the problem that has arisen is I want to know more. I want to know the names of all the women on his page. I want to know how old the child his sister holds is. I want to know why in the last couple of years there are no pictures of his dad in the group photos of his family. I want to know why he didn't go into the draft last year, because there was an article he had posted a link to saying he was supposed to go. I'm thankful he didn't, but still, I want to know why.

I don't even care about hockey, but I want to watch him play.

His alb.u.m of hockey is full of pictures of him playing in tournaments and videos of him shooting and puck handling. He's amazing. Like, super good. It doesn't take long for me to realize that we have been at the same places a lot in the last five years. He was even at Worlds when I was there for Matty. I never saw him, though, and that upsets me. I could have found him earlier. But then, I guess I wouldn't be the person I am now. Back then I was broken, and I wouldn't have talked to him. h.e.l.l, I probably wouldn't have even looked at him.

I was a mess.

But I'm looking now, and I can't wait to see him tonight. I've decided I can't ignore him. I have to know more. I have to have more. I don't know what will happen, or what this attraction and need will lead to, but I can't fight what I'm feeling. I just can't. I have to see where it goes. If it gets to be too much, then I'll back off. It won't be that hard, and I sure as h.e.l.l can't fall like a dumba.s.s. I have to be smart about this.

When a notification pops up that Jace has posted on my page, a grin curves my lips before I click it, going to my wall. Reading his post, I can't stop smiling. And when I read the t.i.tle he suggests for my song, my heart pounds into my ribs and I lose my breath. Not only did he watch the video, but he really listened.

Swoon.

But the t.i.tle for song suits it; it's good.

Clicking the comment b.u.t.ton, I type back quickly.

Avery Rose: Maybe. It's okay.

I don't wait long for him to comment back.

Jace Sinclair: It's okay? Whatever! It's amazing, and I demand that it be called that.

Giggling, my grin grows.

Avery Rose: Demand? Who are you to demand anything?