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* * *
By the timewe get inside, half the team is already at the bar.
Bowie looks up from the far end as I’m walking past. Catching my eye, he waves me in.
I shake my head and keep going.
I don’t get drinks with the team. Or I didn’t until Stormy started coming to the games. And then I just wanted to make sure she had fun. I wanted to hear her laugh.
I wanted to be able to give her something. I still do.
And these guys— the Slayers —are the closest thing to family I have. Even after I held myself apart for so long, the second I stopped, they were there, welcoming me in.
My steps slow and then stop.
My chest rises and falls. I turn around.
The team is laughing, talking animatedly where they’re seated around a group of tables in the corner.
A heavy arm lands across my shoulders as a grinning Static starts walking with me.
“Dude, you are making the right choice,” he says, propelling us to where the younger guys are sitting. “Time to celebrate.”
Not for me. Not yet.
There’s a round of cheers when I grab the seat between Whalen and Kellog.
Kellog’s ever affable grin cranks wide. “That play in the second. Holy shit. Pure poetry.” He waves over the server. “Whatever he’s having, on me.”
“Just a water, thanks.” I clear my throat, looking from one guy to the next. “And maybe some advice.”
* * *
“Yo,Boomer, get your ass over here.” Bowie claps a hand on his buddy’s shoulder and hauls him back to where our entire bench, a coach, and trainer have congregated. Christ.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Dude,” Boomer whines, dropping into an open chair. “The bunnies are circling like sharks. I’m down for a feeding frenzy, yeah?”
“Keep your chum out of the water for five minutes, will you? Our man needs some help.”
And then we’re all assembled, tables pushed together, drinks distributed. The back of my neck burning from how out of control things have gotten.
Slouching in his chair, Boomer juts his chin my way. “You’ve already got the ring on your finger. What could you need help with?”
A round of groans and knowing laughter sounds from the married guys. Rux reaches behind Bowie to smack the back of Boomer’s head then nods to me. “Proceed.”
“I fucked up.”
For a beat, it feels like that says it all. Like no other explanation is necessary, but Noel chimes in. “He didn’t cheat on her.”
The team lets out a sigh of relief and, yeah. More words.
In the most detail-stingy way possible, I explain that I freaked out, screwing up something perfect. That I thought I was doing the right thing, but ultimately, I was afraid of letting her down. And now Stormy’s pulled away, and I don’t know how to get us back to where we were.
When it’s all out there, or at least the broad strokes, the guys sit back.
Boomer, who hasn’t stopped watching the bunnies across the bar, offers up his suggestion first. “Chapstick and knee pads.”
