Risking the Shot (Stick Side #4) - Amy Aislin Page 0,55

again, knowing it couldn’t happen. At least, not right now.

With a groan that vibrated into Dakota’s chest, Tay wrenched his mouth away. He was back a second later for one, two, three quick kisses.

Chuckling, Dakota pushed him toward the door. “Go.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Tay pulled the door open. “Tell Andy I said hi,” he said over his shoulder. “And that I’ll come make that castle with him soon.”

“He’ll love that,” Dakota said, all casual-like, as though Tay’s words didn’t make him ache with too many feelings he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Tay was gone with one last flash of a smile, closing the door behind him.

God. Sinking against the wall, Dakota ran his hands over his face. From casual dinners to first date to sex in only two weeks. It wasn’t fast, not really, but given Dakota hadn’t dated since Fiona, it felt like warp speed.

And a part of him couldn’t bring himself to care.

This month’s family dinner landed on a Thursday, four days after Tay’s date with Dakota, three days after a win against Edmonton, two days after his interview with Sandy at Dakota’s office for their fundraising letter, and one day after an epic loss to Boston. Part of the blame for that loss lay squarely on Tay’s shoulders: he’d had the perfect opening—no D-men in his way, the goalie distracted by a loitering Stanton—and Tay had shot. Only his elbow had locked, and his slapshot turned into a tiny poke, the puck drifting lazily into a waiting Boston player’s hands. Or stick, as it were. The perfect breakaway.

Oh, and family dinner was also three hours after an email from his professor with his mark from the last biology test.

Sixty-four percent.

And he’d been bemoaning the seventy-three he’d gotten on the previous test. He should’ve been celebrating.

Maybe he should get Grey to tutor him. Ugh. All Grey had done was read the stupid textbook—in record time—and already he was smarter than Tay. Why was it so hard for Tay to grasp concepts that were so damn easy for Grey?

Oh, because biology was fucking hard. He’d rather perform hockey drills all day than learn about transcription and signal transduction and gene expression.

And that said a lot about how he felt about his program, huh?

He’d come straight from campus, where shit had gotten real in today’s pre-hospital care class—this week’s labs involved actual real-life case studies. The practical portion would begin next week. Sitting in his parents’ living room, Tay stared at a blank page on his drawing app on his iPad and contemplated the pros and cons of dropping out of school.

Pros: no more studying, no more questioning if this was the right path for him, and he’d get so much time back.

Cons: pity from his sisters, two years wasted, two years’ worth of tuition squandered.

He was a failure if he stayed but wasn’t smart enough to get better grades, and he was a failure if he dropped out.

“What are you working on?” Mom dropped down onto the couch next to him. Tay had arrived early to help her make dinner, which meant that his dad and sisters were in charge of after-dinner cleanup.

Tay turned his tablet around to show her the blank screen.

She mock gasped, hand flying to her chest. “My baby. He’s so talented.”

Snorting a laugh, Tay flipped the cover over his tablet and put it back in his bag. His mom sunk into a corner of the couch, socked feet on the coffee table, head back, coffee mug clasped between both hands. Tay and his sisters got their hair, eyes, and skin coloring from their dad: gold and gold and wintry pasty. From his mom, Tay had gotten her rounded nose, her chin, and her height—she was almost six feet tall compared to his five-foot-six dad.

“So, tell me,” Mom said. “Where’d you end up taking your guy on your first date? Your dad told me,” she added at Tay’s questioning look.

“Nowhere fancy. Just the Wildflower Café in High Park.”

“Oh, they make good scones.”

Tay mimicked Mom’s position, feet on the coffee table, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you think I should’ve taken him somewhere more . . . high-class?”

“Why? Did he say something?”

“No. But he seemed surprised by my choice of restaurant.”

“Good surprised or bad surprised?”

“Good?” Groaning, Tay dug his head into the back of the couch. “Maybe I should’ve taken him to the titty bar.”

Mom snorted a laugh, spilling coffee onto her leggings, which made her laugh harder. “Do you think