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Roscoe ran toward the ice before sprawling out, his tongue hanging out as he spun on the ice. He'd been going at it for most of practice, which we'd completely derailed. Though Dad didn't look too upset. Hell, he'd been the one to run out for dog shoes from the local pet store since the guys had gotten him mini jerseys.
"Roscoe, come here!" This time, it was Sam calling to him. He let out a bark and slipped and slid across the ice to the door, trotting happily toward where she'd been roasting some meat for tonight's dinner. She knew the way to his heart.
"Traitor," I called after him as Dad closed the doors to the rink and yelled out for the guys to get on their drills.
It was always comical to me how such large guys could move so gracefully over the ice. Here they were moving around each other with a practiced ease.
Brock, Tate, and Elias were a force to be reckoned with. They were going against the second line in a practice game and the chemistry between the men was undeniable.
"They're great together, aren't they? Not every team has that level of synchronicity," Dad commented as he came to stand beside me. The pride in his voice was like he was talking about a son. I loved that he cared about the team so deeply. He was invested in them, not just the win.
"The next game determines their spot, right?" I asked. Now that I actually cared about the ins and outs I was picking it up quickly. The games weren't a blur of confusion but I was cheering on, knowing what was coming next. I honestly loved it.
"Yes," he said. "And the calendars are coming tomorrow, just in time to hype that up."
"I've been talking to the lady from the shelter. We've got an idea for a charity event, pups on the ice," I explained, giving him a few details as we watched the guys kick each others' asses.
"That's a great idea. Especially with Roscoe being an unofficial mascot. His little barks had us laughing, though he was barking to be let back in his icy play place, not in agreement.
"They're good for you, Mace."
The sudden change in conversation had me glancing at my dad. His features had softened as he gazed down at me, a soft smile on his lips.
"I can't say the four of you all together is conventional, but I also couldn't think of three better men for you. It makes this old man worry a little less," he admitted.
"Thanks, Dad. They're amazing," I said quietly. "I'm meeting Brock's family this weekend."
"They'll love you," he said. "Pink hair and all."
"Actually," I hedged. "I'm thinking I want a change. I did it originally to piss off Luke. Now I kind of miss my copper locks."
"They fit you," he agreed. "They'll love it, too."
"Elias won't be able to call me pinky anymore," I laughed.
"He'll change it to red," Dad snorted.
His whistle cut off our conversation and nearly deafened me. He stomped off, yelling about sloppy plays and lazy passes.
"Did I hear you're making a hair appointment?" Sam asked as she joined me, barely holding back her excitement as she danced in place. "Let me do it?"
"What? Why?" I laughed. "Are you a secret cosmetologist, too?"
"Yes," she said. "I just like cooking more."
"Alright," I hedged, willing to give her a chance. "I know my roots are starting to show again and I want to go all over that color."
"Let me see before pictures?"
My phone was on the seat beside me, so I picked it up and started searching, showing her the last picture I had with my natural hair. It was a mix of dark and light red. She studied it, flipping through a few before nodding.
"I can do that. I'll even match the shifting tones," she said. "You done here?"
"Actually, yes," I said.
"Good, tell your bodyguards that it's girls' night. I'll bring you home later since you usually ride with them."
"Yes, ma'am," I teased, giving her a salute before heading for the bench. The guys had just flopped down to get a drink and rest before Dad tortured them some more.
