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“University,” Mac said with an attitude, like the answer was obvious. “Come on, Cap. Don’t insult me.”
Bennett didn’t understand anything about the American university rivalries. “Settle down, rook. It’s not easy for Canadians to remember—or care about—your schools.”
Mac laughed, not offended in the least. “Welly went to Minnesota, that bastard. They beat us in the Frozen Four during my last season at BU.”
“You two are tight.”
“Yep. Ow, shit!” he cursed as the physio kept massaging his back. “Right there, Jackie.”
“Got it. Just breathe and relax,” Jackie said as she continued working.
McPherson’s face twisted with pain, then eased after a few minutes. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“You know how this goes,” Matt, who was massaging Bennett’s left knee, said. “It’ll start to feel better soon.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to love it,” Mac gritted out. “Sorry for the cursing.”
“It’s okay,” Jackie said, leaning in, really putting her arms into it.
“Still, my mom would smack the back of my head if she heard me say that around you. I can’t curse around her or my sisters, ever.”
“You have sisters?” Bennett asked. “How many?” This was the most he’d learned about Mac’s personal life since the Reign signed the kid.
“Four.”
“Jesus. Are you the youngest, the oldest? What?”
“I’m the baby. They gave me a lot of shit growing up, but I love them.”
“That’s sweet,” Jackie said, rotating his hip flexor gently. “It’s like the opposite of toxic masculinity.”
“Bro, my sisters would kick my ass if I acted like an asshole. They made me watch Up, and told me if I didn’t cry that I was a soulless monster.”
“Wait, the cartoon?” Matt asked.
“Yes, but the beginning of that movie?” Mac shook his head on the padded table. “Sad as fuck, dude. Nobody warned me and I was legit crying.”
“You cried,” Bennett said, clarifying. “During the movie Up?”
“Have you seen it?” Mac asked, rolling his head to look over at Bennett. “Because you’re sounding a little judgey over there, Cap.”
“No, I haven’t seen it. Again, a cartoon.”
“Oh, but it’s so good,” Jackie said. “That opening gets me every time. Bam, waterworks.”
“Listen.” Mac began gesturing, trying to convince the whole room. “Like, there’s this old woman and this old man and they’ve been married, like, forever. They show their whole life, how they met, fell in love—”
“Jesus, is he talking about Up again?” Sewell strode into the physio room, shirtless, wearing only joggers and slides. “Bro, you can’t go around telling people about this. They’ll think you’re a pussy.”
“I’m not embarrassed by getting emotional, you dick.”
The banter went on for a few more minutes, with Sewell and Mac going back and forth, poking fun at one another, and Bennett tuned them out. This wasn’t helpful. There was no way to know for certain, based on movies and siblings, if Mac was the guy responsible or not. Like Lauren said, men didn’t come with warning labels, unfortunately.
When he finished in physio, Bennett went into the team changing room and took off his base layers. Then he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the showers, all the while wondering how he could get confirmation of anyone’s guilt. This wasn’t the kind of thing guys admitted to each other. Or anyone, for that matter.
When he left the showers, the changing room—the one where the guys kept their personal clothes and bags—was nearly empty. Most guys had already left, rushing to get home after practice, probably because they had to get on a plane in three hours. The schedule during this part of the season was brutal, when everyone was exhausted and battling aches and pains or worse. It was one reason Bennett was glad he lived close to the arena.
The last two guys took off when Bennett was putting on deodorant. Then he was alone. He could hear the equipment staff in the actual locker room, getting ready for the trip today, but inside the team changing room it was quiet. The names went through his head as he glanced around at the stalls. McPherson. Taylor. Pence. Brown. Campbell. Singh.
