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Rhys peers at us like we’re putting him on. “Both of you do face masks? Both?”
Hollis claps a hand on Rhys’s shoulder. “I think the more apt question is—you don’t?”
Rhys shakes his head. “No. I bloody don’t.”
“Just for that, I’m getting face masks for everyone tonight. Yes, I am that generous,” I say, then I navigate the cart out of produce and toward the toiletry aisle, hoping Hollis gets his crush confession out now.
It’s complicated enough that they’re both into our temporary roommate. Worse that I am too. But I’m not going to do a damn thing about my own nascent feelings other than quash them. Nothing gets in the way of hockey for me.
Some guys say hockey is life. I say it and I mean it. Hockey isn’t just my job. It’s how I survived that house where I grew up. I won’t ever call that two-bedroom ranch house a home. After a semi-truck jackknifed into my parents’ car one snowy day in Madison, Wisconsin when I was five and my mom’s never-wanted-kids sister and her mean-as-a-cobra husband reluctantly took me in, the only home I’ve ever had is the one I found on the ice.
The teams I play with.
The guys who depend on me on the rink.
No way am I going to pursue a woman who teaches our cross-town rivals, who my center is obsessed with, who my team’s winger has a crush on. These guys are my closest friends on the team—hell, they’re like the brothers I never had. Chasing a woman we’re all connected to in a tangled way is just asking for trouble.
What Hollis does is his business, but he’d better deal with the topic soon. I shoot him a get on with it look.
He gives a quick nod of acknowledgement, then shifts his focus to Rhys. “Anyway, Rhys, I could wait till we have charcoal and grapefruit on our faces, but listen,” he says, squaring his shoulders, but not like he’s posturing—more like he knows it’s time to man up. “I’m into Briar too.”
I brace myself for the fallout. I want everyone to get along. That’s why I insisted Hollis do this when we were all running the errand. So I could run interference if need be.
I pause the cart, watching Rhys. His expression is blank for several long seconds. This is bad.
“That so?” Rhys asks Hollis with zero emotions.
“And I know you are too,” Hollis says, unperturbed by Rhys’s cool reaction. “So I wanted you to know.”
“That’s very interesting.” It’s said like Rhys is gearing up for…something.
Before things get heated, I cut in. “Guys, she’s a friend of ours and a guest. You can’t just compete for her.”
Hollis snort-laughs as he turns my way. “Who said anything about competing?”
I jerk my gaze back and forth to Rhys’s dark eyes, then Hollis’s light ones. “Well, aren’t you?”
Am I reading the room all wrong?
Rhys chuckles too. “Just because we both like her doesn’t mean we have to compete.”
“Okaaaay.” I’m lost.
Rhys claps Hollis on the shoulder with an approving smile. “We always did have great taste, didn’t we?”
“Still do,” Hollis says with a laugh.
I’m so lost. “What the fuck is happening here?”
Hollis gives me a shrug and a smile. “We sometimes share.”
I…freeze. I was not expecting that answer, and I’m unsteady as I respond with a strangled, “You…do? Like girlfriends? You share a girlfriend? Like Stefan and Hayes with their wife?”
Presumably, Ivy was their girlfriend first. I’m not sure how Ivy, Stefan, and Hayes all came together, just that they were a throuple when I landed on the team. Maybe that’s what Rhys and Hollis mean?
Rhys shakes his head. “Nothing that serious. More like a night out, a party—that sort of thing. Well, once we realized we had the same excellent taste.”
I can’t let this go. “When was that?”
