Jake Abbot
“Win handled that better than I thought,” Wyatt shrugged, walking to my truck. Sydney drove her vehicle today, leaving me to drive my best friend to hockey practice.
“Thank god. I didn’t want to take another step back after what happened this morning,” I grumbled, climbing behind the vehicle's wheel.
“Do I want to know?”
I sighed, “She almost hit me with a hockey stick.”
He laughed, “What the hell did you do?”
I grumbled, “She didn’t remember telling Sydney I could stay and thought some stranger was in her house.”
“Damn. But in her defense, she was a little out of it last night.”
“Well, now, I feel like I have to convince her all over again,” I muttered.
The further I drove from her place, the more agitated I became. When I pulled into the parking lot to see Tristan ar
