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“Would you two like to join us?” Nash asked, looking at Monique and me.
“Sure.” Monique got to her feet and picked up her glass of wine before I could respond, so I had no choice but to follow.
We sat around two high-top tables and a waitress showed up with menus and a couple of pitchers of beer.
“Is Sawyer coming?” Nash asked as we got settled, referring to Sawyer Cain, another one of their teammates.
Lars shook his head. “Annie is very sick. Sheridan just texted me that he’s taking her to the hospital.”
“Oh, fuck. Not again.” Nash shook his head.
“Who’s Annie?” I asked.
“Sawyer’s wife,” Nash said quietly. “She has cancer and it’s spread. She was doing well for a while, but she’s been in and out of the hospital all winter and spring. I don’t think the prognosis is very good.”
“Oh, no. That’s terrible.”
“We try to be there for them,” Lars said. “But it is a very difficult situation.”
“I can’t imagine,” Monique said. “Every time I start feeling sorry for myself about my separation, I think of Sawyer and Annie and am grateful for the life I have.”
“Wait, you’re getting divorced?” Boone asked, clearly irritated by the news. “Do I need to kick Tony’s ass?”
“I already tried,” Nash said, shaking his head. “But she won’t let me.”
“You guys are sweet, but it serves no purpose,” she said, shrugging. “You can’t beat him into loving me again.”
“No, but we can beat his ass just for fun.” Lars cracked his knuckles, the look on his face so deadly I wasn’t sure whether or not he was serious.
“I think I might love you, Lars Jansson.” Monique grinned at him and though his face remained impassive, his ears turned red, which I thought was endearing. “But no one beats on him, understand? I plan to do all the damage in court.”
“My fiancée has the best divorce lawyer in the state,” Lars told her. “If you need her number, let me know.”
“Thank you. I’m not quite ready for that, but I’ll let you know when I am.”
“What about you, Sariah?” Boone asked, looking at me. “You single? Taken?”
“Single,” I said. “Got out of a long relationship about six months ago and I’m enjoying my freedom.”
“I swear there’s something in the air,” Monique said, shaking her head. “I know two other couples getting divorced. Kevin from the sales department got divorced last year too.”
“My girlfriend also left me last year,” Kon said somberly.
“I think we need a shot after this pity fest,” Nash said, motioning to the waitress. “Tequila or Jägermeister?”
Monique groaned. “I don’t do tequila. That’s what got me into this mess. Shots of tequila led to a one-night stand that never left. Nope. I am never swallowing another worm.”
I snorted and then clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Girl…” Monique gave me a dirty look even as she dissolved into laughter.
“Jägermeister it is!” Nash said firmly, winking at me.
I opened my mouth to protest, because I almost never did shots and had never tried Jägermeister, but I couldn’t very well say no when everyone else was doing it. I was having a good time and really liked everyone I’d met. I hadn’t expected to ever go out drinking with guys on the team, but now that I was here, it felt natural.
When the waitress brought the round of shots, I wrinkled my nose at the dark liquid, peering at it with distaste.
“You’ve never done a Jäger shot before, have you?” Nash whispered, leaning toward me.
I gave a slight shake of my head. “No. How bad is it?”
“Licorice,” he said in my ear. “If you can tolerate licorice, you’ll be okay.”
“You’re downplaying it. I can tell.”
“No. I swear. It’s not that bad if you don’t mind licorice. Come on, we’ll do it together.” He scooted his barstool closer, until the side of his thigh was pressed against mine, and lifted his glass. “To making the playoffs.”
“To new friends.” Monique met my gaze warmly.
“No more breaking up,” Kon said firmly.
“Amen to all of the above.” Boone brought the shot to his lips.
I squeezed my eyes shut and poured the liquid down my throat. I couldn’t help the shudder of horror that escaped me, and I probably made an extremely unattractive face, but it tasted like licorice-flavored death laced with poison.
“Sweet Jesus, why does anyone drink this?” I gasped.
Nash surreptitiously passed me the glass of water he’d ordered when he sat down, and I grabbed it like a lifeline. Normally I wouldn’t have drunk from a stranger’s glass, but the lingering taste of the liquor was more than I could stand.
“Thank you,” I said to him gratefully.
“Of course.” The smile he gave me made me temporarily forget the horrible aftertaste in my mouth and I smiled back.
“Not much of a drinker?” he asked.
“Oh, I drink, but I don’t do shots very often. Especially ones that taste like that. I’ll take tequila over that nonsense any day.”
