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“A nightcap at my place?” he asked playfully.
"Sounds like a winning play.”
We left Lou’s, and the ride to Pete’s place was short but exciting—thoughts about what would happen when we got there raced through my head.
Pete parked the car and cut the engine. "Here we are," he said, his voice a little deeper than usual.
"Yeah," I mumbled, suddenly aware of how close he was and how easy it would be to kill the distance between us. But we both held back and let the tension build.
He turned toward me. "You still up for that nightcap?"
I let out a chuckle. "After the buildup? How could I turn it down?”
Pete squeezed my hand, and my heart melted into a pile of goo. "Let's go then."
As we reached his door, Pete fumbled for his keys, an endearing sign that I wasn’t the only nervous one. He finally slipped the key into the lock and turned the handle.
The door opened, and Pete gestured for me to go inside. "After you, Hoss."
Chapter12
Pete
Istrolled into the locker room, the echo of skates on ice still ringing in my ears. Waller, our teddy bear goalie, gave me a grin as he unlaced his skates.
"Hey, Coach Z, rumors are flying. You and Hoss a thing now?"
Moment of truth. I paused, remembering how much Hoss valued honesty. The man had fought back from injuries and addiction, and here I was, sweating a simple question.
"Yeah, we are," I admitted, my chest puffing up a little. What the hell, right? Own it.
When I confirmed the rumor about Hoss and me, the locker room atmosphere shifted from cautious curiosity to something akin to a New Year's Eve celebration. Waller's face cracked into a huge grin, and before I knew it, players leaped off the benches and swarmed around me.
"Damn, Coach Z, finally got yourself a win off the ice too, huh?" Waller chuckled, thrusting out his fist for a bump. I accepted the invitation with a massive smile on my face.
“About time someone tamed that wild Hoss,” Jensen cleverly quipped as he slapped me on the back.
Even Eddie got in on the action, abandoning his meticulous gear-sorting to join the crowd. "I always thought you guys had wild chemistry during strategy meetings, but I didn't know it had gone this far.”
Rivers, a veteran winger, piped up from the back. "Does this mean we can finally stop pretending we don't see you guys stealing glances at each other during game reviews?"
The room erupted in laughter. Resistance was futile; I joined in. Listening to the team, I knew that one invisible wall had been torn down, and we were all closer than before.
I hadn't expected such a supportive reaction. I underestimated the guys. Locker rooms could be weird places—full of unspoken rules and toxic bravado. But not this time. Not in Cold Pines.
Someone started clapping, and then it spread, a ripple of applause that caught like wildfire. I stood there, a goofy grin on my face, soaking it all in.
The volume rose when Hoss walked in, a stack of practice schedules in his hand. He had no idea what was happening.
The room exploded with cheers and whistles; some of the players stomped their skates against the floor. The noise was deafening.
The look of surprise on Hoss's face was priceless, and it soon melted into a wide grin. He looked at me, and I saw unbridled joy in his eyes.
I suspected he was just as astounded as me at how far we’d come. We found things we thought we never would in Cold Pines—a cohesive team, a supportive community, and a man to share it all with.
Our locker room was about more than sweat and competition; it was a center of teamwork and brotherhood. As Hoss and I stood there, surrounded by cheers and infectious stomps, I knew we weren't merely accepted—we were celebrated.
Later, in the office, I said, “Obviously, the team's cool with us. They took it better than I expected.”
