Page 36 of Mac Meyers Needs Me

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He’s all dimpled smiles and it does nothing to help the roll in my stomach, but at least I’m no longer huffing his distilled cologne.

I haven’t told my sister about my boyfriend because of the fake part. I’m still trying to figure out how to handle this when we reach the rink. The game has just started, and I scan the seats, Lexi and Roman are near center ice with little Ariel bouncing around between them, Connor Grace, a Toronto Terror player, and his wife, Mildred, who everyone calls Dred, with them.

I issue a warning, “So Roman’s dad vibes are a bit extra.”

Mac’s eyebrows pull together. “You mean Forrest-Hammer?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait.” Mac freezes mid-stride. “He’s here?”

“Yeah.” Empathy replaces anxiety at his suddenly nervous expression. “Roman tries to make all her games. He’s like a…pseudo dad for Callie.” It’s the best way I can explain it. Callie is almost finished with middle school, and Roman is old enough to be our dad, which is how she sees him.

“Right, yeah. Of course, that makes sense. Is that weird for you?” he asks, brow back to a furrow. “Or hard?”

My heart gets all mushy over his concern for my feelings. “At first a little. I felt guilty for loving him like a parent, but mostly I’m just thankful now. No one will ever replace mine, but my sister has done a great job of managing both roles, and Roman just has…big dad energy,” I confide. I don’t envy Callie or Ariel when they start dating. At least Callie will pave the way for little Ariel.

“How do you have it so together with everything you’ve been through?” Mac asks quietly.

“Therapy?” I joke. “I have a great family and awesome friends, which is more than a lot of people in my situation.”

“You’re fucking amazing, I hope you know that,” he says earnestly.

“So are you. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Roman and my sister.”

Mac nods and wipes his hands on his pants as we cross over to them.

He grabs my hand when we reach their row and drops his voice. “Holy sh—crap,” he adjusts his language as we pass two kids. “Is that Connor Grace?”

“Yeah, he and his wife Dred come to Callie’s games a lot, too. Callie is his number-one fan, and he adores her.”

Mac blows out a breath and turns to me, hand still wrapped around mine. “Okay, so…we’ve been friends for a while.”

“Yeah, we have.” My stomach flips as his tongue drags across his bottom lip and I inconveniently think about our good-night kiss for the millionth time since it happened.

“And I appreciate you for who you are as a person, and not who you’re related to and who you know,” he says.

“I know that, Mac.” It is nice to hear it, though, and for him to sound completely genuine.

“But honestly? I’m freaking out a little right now.”

I smile, glad to have something to focus on other than my own nerves. “I get it, but they’re just people. Roman burps like everyone else in the world. He also snores sometimes. I don’t know about Connor though. His burps probably smell like sophistication and expensive cologne.”

Mac shakes his head and chuckles. “Your brain is weird.”

“Thank you. But seriously, they’re regular guys off the ice.”

“They’re my heroes,” he admits.

“That’s totally reasonable. I won’t make fun of you for getting starry-eyed over them. It would be the same if I ever met Banksy.” I squeeze his hand. “Want me to introduce you?”

“Yeah. Please.”

I lead him to where my sister is seated, a couple of rows back from the ice.