“You don’t have a shot,” Sebastian says.
“You don’t know that.”
“She smiled at me for four seconds longer than she smiled at you.”
“She was counting your teeth, Sebastian. That’s not attraction, that’s concern.”
“At least I have all mine.”
“That was one game—”
“Gentlemen.” Caleb, solemn as a judge. “The real question is whether she’s coming to team dinner.”
I walk in.
Dead silence.
Then Brody: “Jax. Hey. We were just—”
“I heard you from the hallway.”
“Right.” He clears his throat. “So. Team dinner.”
“She’s press,” I say.
“Right, right, completely professional, yeah, obviously.” A pause. “So that’s a maybe.”
I go to my stall and start pulling gear.
Aiden is already there, skates off, leaning back with his arms crossed and the specific look he gets when he’s saving something for later.
Brody lowers his voice. Which for Brody means the guys two stalls over can probably still hear him. “Is it true you and Shaw were in Riley’s office this morning?”
“Yep.”
“Together.”
“Yep.”
“And it was—”
“Official team business.”
“Right.” He nods slowly. Very slowly. “So there’s something to have official team business about.”
“Go shower, Brody.”
“I’m just—”
“Now.”
He goes. Sebastian follows, pointing at his own teeth on the way out for absolutely no reason. Caleb fires finger-guns at me, which is somehow the most threatening thing anyone has done to me all day.
I tape my stick. The usual thirteen wraps.
Aiden waits until it’s just us. He’s always been good at that — knowing when to hold the room and when to clear it.
“She’s the grocery store girl,” he says. Not a question.
