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“Love?” Shock flittered through me like ice shards flying after a hockey stop.
“It happens, honey. Even to big strong hockey players called Rock.”
“Shit.”
“And it seems to me like you’d better do something about pretty fast, since you’re leaving in a couple days, and right now, Drea is planning to spend those days apart.”
“More shit.”
“Need help?” My aunt turned to me and blinked up at me with a smile. “The drunken psychic recently confirmed that I am destined to bring the lovelorn together.”
I rubbed a hand through my hair. “What?”
“The inn. That’s what I’m doing. Building an inn for the lovelorn so I can matchmake.”
That was a little bit of crazy I was not going to touch with a ten-foot hockey stick. But the help? I could use that. “Yeah, I have no idea what to do.”
“I have a few thoughts. Come with me.” Aunt Nattie took my arm and dragged me toward a shop on the other side of the square called Floral Explosion.
“It might take more than flowers, Aunt Nattie.”
“Come on, Rock. Trust me.”
I sighed and followed my aunt into the store, which did indeed look as if there’d been a floral explosion inside.
* * *
I did not enjoy the night I spent alone, and it seemed like such a waste, considering Drea was nearby at her friend’s house, apparently miserable. Paige had called earlier, thanks to my aunt’s influence, and now it felt like the entire town was somehow involved in my effort to let Drea know I was sorry. And that I wanted something real with her.
The next morning, however, my stomach was in giddy knots, and I could barely lace up my pickle ball sneakers, with all the nerves firing through me.
“You okay over there, man?” Callan Whitewood, former forward for a pro soccer team in DC, was grinning at me, while a couple of his pals looked on from the opposite bench in our locker room. The soccer players were surprisingly big, especially Trace Johnson, who played keeper for the South Bay Sharks. His buddy Hamish, who had arrived to play pickle ball in a kilt, was also enormous.
“You guys ever think about switching to a real sport?” I asked them, earning me a growl from Hamish.
“They’re on your team, man,” Callan reminded me. “Save it for the Singletree Soup Slingers.”
Before long, the announcer was doing his thing, and it sounded like the court seating was pretty packed.
“Ready?” I asked the guys, who all hooted and hollered as they picked up their paddles. The tournament would consist of two doubles matches going at the same time, with seven total matches in the first round.
We headed out to the stadium, where the other team was already prancing around for the crowd, taking bows and waving their arms in the air. They were a motley assortment of players, many of them clearly in their seventies. One lady had to be at least eighty, though she looked pretty spry in her matching track suit and neon headband.
I scanned the crowd as they cheered for my team’s entrance, and immediately saw—or felt—Drea looking on. When I found her there, our eyes met briefly, though she quickly looked away.
This was going to be rough.
“Welcome to our all-star players,” the announcer called, quieting the crowd. “We’ve got an assortment of sports stars from teams across the country. Let’s hear a hearty welcome for Trace Johnson, Hamish ‘The Hammer’ MacEvoy, and Fernando ‘the Fire’ Fuerte from the South Bay Sharks!”
The crowd roared.
“And a hearty greeting for Avalanche Peters from the Smith Valley Sledders!” I’d met Peters on the ice a few times, and couldn’t help the adrenaline that spiked when I heard his name. Of course, now we were on the same team. I just hoped the shit-talking would be aimed at the other team in this situation—he was famous for it.
“Finally, let’s have a cheer for the Wilcox Wombats star center, Rock Stevens!”
The crowd didn’t exactly go wild, but they were loud enough to make me feel welcome. Of course, the only person I cared about being happy to see me didn’t look that way at all. Drea watched me trot out onto the court with a strange look on her face. The look you might use before you disemboweled a favorite pet, if that was a face people made. Yikes.
“Before we get started with the tournament today, folks, we have a special treat for you!”
