Kinsley fell in love with Phoenix Maverick, an NHL player for a team she never imagined supporting. But when Kinsley suffers from a head injury and forgets the last six years of her life, she struggles balancing being the person Phoenix fell in love...
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Seven months ago. April.
Leighton slouched on the sofa, controller in his hand, foot on the coffee table. His black locs were cut shorter, too short for him to tie back but long enough to sit on his brow.
"Let me get this straight," he smacked the button, his whole body tensing up while he boxed his digital opponent. "You're skipping out on our Atlantic city trip, which we've been looking forward to all fucking season, because you have to have coffee with a Canucks puck bunny?"
"Ain't even like that," I read the text message from Kinsley confirming her address.
"What's it like?"
I dropped the phone onto the table and picked up the t-shirt hanging over the seat. Leighton didn't have an apartment here, his house was in Calgary where he'd grown up. Most of the team resided full time in Alberta somewhere.
The only reason he hung around in Vancouver was because this was where I was if we weren't on the road. He was a regular at the five star hotel in South Granville five minutes away but he didn't spend a lot of time there unless it was with his speed dial puck bunnies. That left him on my couch eighty percent of the time.
"It's like," I said, slipping the shirt over my head. "Seeing a play in your head and being so fucking certain it's going to win us the game."
He looked over the back of the couch at me. "You're comparing a girl to a good play?"
"Fuck up. I don't know how else to explain it. Like, sure there's other variables I can't see that could fuck up this move right? But I'm sure enough that I'm gonna go for it anyway."
Leighton let out a loud sigh and turned back to his game. "So what, she's the one?"
"Could be. Guess I'll have to find out."
"Sounds stupid. You don't know her at all."
"You can fuck off now," I said, slapping him across the back of the head as I walked past the sofa. "I'm headed out."
He grumbled under his breath but shut the console down and stood up. "Might see if Frey wants to do Atlantic city instead."
"You do that," I slapped him on the shoulder and held the door open for him. If he thought he could make me jealous enough to cancel coffee on a girl I hadn't had the chance to take out, he was dead wrong.
Cancelling would be a fucking terrible first impression.
"Look," I said. "If it doesn't go well, I'll catch another flight out and meet you there. Casey and Matthew's are still in. So head off and quit sulking."
