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“Well,” Paisley says. “You and Zander can make sure we win. Mia and I are going to just look great and be moral support. And the servers… they can do whatever it is they do. Kay?”
Nolan and Zander share a look.
“Relax,” I say. “All you have to do is let them not score any goals and we’re going to be fine. Right?”
Nolan and Zander each have one of my thighs on their shoulders as they carry me from the harbor toward the main strip of town on our journey to O’Malley’s bar.
It’s dark out and fresh snow is drifting down around us. There’s a group of people following behind and some in front as we all make our way to the bars after the end of the tournaments.
I’m cold, but feeling exhilarated. Today was a blast, and the whole town seems to agree. There’s excited chatter in the crowd walking all around us and scattered cheers, even from the teams that were eliminated early.
The guys have to awkwardly crouch as I duck to get me through the door to the bar on their shoulders.
The bartender watching us come in is Pete O’Malley. He’s not the O’Malley. That was McGreggor O’Malley, his grandfather’s cousin, who became infamous in Frosty Harbor because of rumors about what he did with his goats on the farm he ran a few miles outside town. And no, you don’t want to know any more than that.
Pete raises his bushy gray eyebrows, taking in the sight of us all swarming into the bar. He grins. “You guys win?” he asks.
“Thanks to our Ace,” Zander says. “Who knew Mia was such a badass on skates?”
“Round here?” Pete asks. “Everybody knows that. Mia was a shoe-in for the Olympics until she got hurt.”
“Wait, really?” Zander says. “How come you never told me that, Mia?”
“It never came up?” I say, feeling a little awkward now as they’re still carrying me and my head is dangerously close to whacking ceiling fans as we pass.
The guys go to set me down and I notice that Nolan is the one who clutches me around the waist, easing me down from their shoulders. I think there’s a small sparkle of pride in his eyes.
“She was going to go for figure skating,” Nolan says. “An absolute badass.”
The bar is getting louder by the minute. Paisley must have spiked her “water bottle” with booze, because she was officially drunk by the time we were halfway through our hockey matches earlier. She’s at the door, bouncing and waving her hands to usher everybody inside. Most of us came straight from the harbor after our victory in the final game of the night.
Jesse and Jake join us at our table, glaring at Nolan.
“That was bullshit,” Jake says. His team, along with Caroline, lost to us in the championship match. “Zander obviously played hockey before. And Mia could outskate half the guys in the league.”
“Well,” Nolan says. “Caroline was, uh, good moral support.” He trails off as Caroline approaches the table. Her curly hair is wild, her half-moon glasses are fogged and smeared, and her cheeks are bright red from the cold. She also wiped out and face planted several times, but always got up immediately.
“What did you say, bitch?” she snaps at Nolan.
We all laugh. Well, all of us except Caroline, who is still scowling. She was an absolute disaster with the hockey stick and on the skates, but she tried to make up for it with pure determination and stubbornness.
“Hockey may not be your sport,” Jake says. “Are you sure you’re related to Jesse?”
She punches his arm and they share a grin.
Andi slides into the booth beside Jesse. She’s wearing several coats and thick mittens with a big, fluffy hat. “You’re all just lucky Jesse wouldn’t let me play. I’ve been training. I would’ve mopped the floor with you guys. We would have,” she adds, putting a hand on her stomach and smiling.
“She’s right,” Jesse says.
Carter hooks his arms around Zander and Caroline, grinning and hanging on them. “Then I crown you theoretical champion, Andi. Congratulations. Your unborn baby would be proud.”
Caroline punches Carter in the stomach. He oversells it, bending and coughing for a few seconds before straightening, teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Anybody seen my teammates?” he asks.
“You mean the squad of young, pretty girls who all had absolutely no idea what they were doing?” I ask.
“Oh, they knew exactly what they were doing,” Carter says. He leans into the table, lowering his voice. “They were auditioning to see who got to come home with me tonight. But, now I can’t find any of them. I’d already picked two winners, too.”
“Two winners?” Jesse asks. “You sure your teammates were okay with that?”
