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“A few of us are headed to the hotel bar. Wanna grab a beer?”
With the hockey husbands?No thanks.
“Pass. I’m gonna check out the gym.”
“Suit yourself.”
He pushes off the doorframe, and I close it on him looking at me with pity.
The workout room is decent, though smaller than I was hoping. I’m in my third set of squats when the guys walk in with a couple six packs of beer.
I slide my headphones off my ears and throw my arms up.What is it now?
Lonan cracks open a beer and rests his back up against the mirrored wall. “Figured we’d bring the party to you. Ya know, now that—” The other guys lounge on the floor with him.
“Now that what?” I dare him to say it.
My cocaptain smiles. “Now that you’re one of us.”
I hold up my middle and ring fingers, pointing to the bare finger. “Am I the only one thinking about tomorrow’s game?”
Barrett points at me. “Which brings us to why we’re here. You’re acting weird, and it’s gonna manifest into something on the ice if you don’t deal with it.”
“You gotta come out with that shit. If you’re anything like the way I was with Freya, it’s eating you alive inside,” Rhys says.
That’s an understatement.
“Ever since that kiss in the stands shit, you’ve been overcompensating with studying game plays and working out.” Barrett stares at me. “You know I’m right.”
“I’m the captain. It’s my job.”
“Come on, man. Get it off your chest!”
They cross their arms and get comfortable, then wait, laid back, taking sips from their bottlenecks. My weights fall to my sides, and I rack them. Lonan hands me a bottle.
“I brought her home for Thanksgiving.”
“You like her,” Barrett says.
“I like her.” I exhale, and it’s filled with relief. Damn, it does kinda feel good to say it out loud. Lonan fakes a spit take, and Rhys shakes his head with a shit-eating grin.
I laugh. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”
Lonan leans forward. “Look, we know how this shit affects your game if you don’t have an outlet for it. You need to get your house in order.” He gives me a pointed look.
He’s right. At the time, I didn’t want to admit it, but a big part of the Thanksgiving game shitshow was being distracted by thoughts of Jordan with my family and how well she fit in. She’s the first girl I’ve ever introduced to them, even if she was introduced as a friend.
“This the first girl you’ve brought home?”
I nod.
“You scared?”
I furrow my eyebrows and cock my head back. “Of Jordan? No.”
“He’s impossible,” Rhys says to Barrett. He gestures to me. “How do you deal with this?”
Barrett laughs and turns back to me. “You trust us with all the other shit on the ice, but you have to learn how to lean on your teammates for the off-the-ice stuff too. You don’t talk to people about women unless it’s fucking them. And now you actually have somebody you’re taking an interest in. That’s a big fucking deal for someone like you—no offense.”
