Jax snorts. “Which is exactly why you should keep it wrapped up at all times. We don’t need any pucks slipping past the goalie.” He elbows me. “Right, Lennox?”
“Why am I getting dragged into this?” I mutter, side-eyeing him.
“You’re one to talk, Wilder,” Cooper Callahan cuts in before I can respond. “Neither of you should be contemplating procreating for a solid decade. Maybe even longer.”
Jax scoffs. “Please. I’d be an incredible dad. Kids love me.”
Knox doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s because you are one.”
Ignoring Knox and Jax, I glance at Cooper as he leans against the counter near the bar setup, one leg stretched out as if standing for too long is uncomfortable. He looks better than the last time I saw him. Not as pale or gaunt. It’s the careful way he shifts that gives him away. Almost like he’s negotiating with his own body and losing.
“They finally let you out of rehab?” I ask.
Cooper’s mouth quirks. “Doc cleared me for turkey and social interaction. Huge milestone.”
Knox laughs. “Damn, we’ve really missed you on the ice.”
“Don’t get too attached,” Cooper says flatly.
I know exactly what rehab does to a guy. It turns days into measurements and you into someone who’s forced to watch the plays instead of making them, all the while waiting for your body to cooperate.
It sucks.
Cooper follows my line of sight across the room before raising a brow.
Knox tips his glass toward Kia. “So, Oliver’s sister. She’s new to Chicago, huh?”
When I fail to respond, his grin widens. “I bet she could use a friend. I’ve got a younger brother I could intro?—”
“No.” The word is out before I can think better of it.
Knox blinks before laughing. “Damn, Lennox. What are you? Her dad?”
Jax gives me a once-over. “Honestly? He’s probably old enough.”
For the first time since he joined us, Cooper smiles as his gaze drifts lazily over my face. “What are you, like forty-five? Maybe pushing fifty?”
I glare, hoping to shut down further comments. “I’m thirty-three.”
“Sure,” Knox says, still amused. “But you’ve got the energy of a tired suburban dad who enjoys yelling at kids to get off his lawn.”
“Hard to do when I don’t have a lawn,” I say with a grunt.
“But you want to,” Jax says.
Cooper’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t add anything more to the pile-on.
Smart man. It wouldn’t take much to send him back to rehab.
Across the room, Elody has Kia’s fingers laced in both of hers, as if she’s afraid that if she lets go for even a second, the pretty blonde might disappear.
A knot forms in my chest.
Attachment is risky.
Especially for a four-year-old who’s already lost too much. I should probably redirect her. Maybe steer her toward the other kids racing through the party, and create some space before this becomes another problem I can’t control.
Knox nudges my shoulder. “Are you even paying attention?”
