Page 11 of Taking Sides

I fight back a groan and clench my jaw. It’s too late to argue. Grady is visibly excited that we’re coming and deep down I know it’s probably the right thing to do. We spent all week with the kids, but it was all hockey and drills. In a more relaxed environment, we can show them we’re just normal guys.

I think I must have blacked out for the rest of the conversation because the next thing I know, Grady and Whitney are skating off in one direction and Penn turns to face me.

“Do you want to ride together?” he asks like this is a totally normal scenario, and he didn’t just sign me up for an afternoon of torture being around Whitney. Maybe I can just keep avoiding her. Yes, great plan. Keep ten feet of distance between us at all times so there’s never a reason to speak.

“Why did you just agree to that?” I ask him.

“Come on. You know why.”

I keep watching him, waiting for an explanation, anyway.

“You like the coach.”

“I don’t even know the coach.”

He rolls his eyes. “She’s hot, smart, funny, loves hockey, and you’re obviously into her because you said, like, three words to her all week.”

I wish I could argue any of his points but can’t.

“And what does going to this barbecue have to do with that?” I ask, tension filling my limbs like a weight. “As you’ve so aptly explained, I can’t talk to her.”

“Yes, you can.”

I stare at him blankly for several long seconds. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

“You can because it’s your last chance. Do you really want to wake up in a month and still be kicking yourself for not asking her out?” He gives me that big brother face, slight head tilt, serious expression, half smile, that says, I know better than you. I’ve seen it before, but never had it directed at me.

But the truth is, I’ve felt that feeling so many times, I can summon it on command. My gut swirls with unease and a giant lump forms in my throat. Regrets . . . I have many.

His brows lift when I wait too long to reply. I open my mouth but can’t come up with a single rebuttal.

I sigh. He’s right. He knows it. I know it.

“Well, fuck.” It really is now or never.

He grins.

When Penn and I arrive at Grady’s place, the kids are already in the pool, splashing around, doing cannonballs off the side. They cheer and shout their hellos. A few kids beckon us to join them, but neither Penn nor I knew to bring trunks.

Instead, we join Grady on the back deck. He’s manning the grill.

“You made it,” he says, looking more relaxed than he had at the rink. He’s pulled on a wide-brim hat and sunglasses and is wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

“Smells great,” Penn says, nodding toward the food. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Nah, I think we got it covered.” He waves in the direction of the open sliding glass door. “The pool isn’t exactly warm, thanks to the rain this week, but I have extra trunks if either of you feel up for a swim.”

Penn chuckles softly. “Freezing-cold pool water or hover near the food . . .” He moves his hands in front of him like he’s weighing the options.

Grady laughs along with him. “I’m with you, but the boys are impervious to temperature apparently.”

I glance around before I realize I’m looking for a certain someone at the same time Grady adds, “Whitney is grabbing ice for the coolers.”

On cue, she comes into view, carrying two bags of ice so big, she can barely see over them.

Penn nudges me into action.

“Let me get those,” I say as I reach for the ice.