Page 63 of Just Forever

I don’t want to explain why I have the tickets or that I know Ryker or how I know Ryker.

As is becoming a custom, going alone is simply easier.

Bringing a friend only ever happens when Kelly, Rachel, or Sawyer are in town. Or, like tonight, Soren. He and Ryk played in together in college, and I’ve never quite managed to become as friendly with him as I am with Hayes. Soren is… Well, he’s loud.

Just to be clear, I’m not holding it against him, and I actually like him a lot as a person. He’s one of those people who gets along with everybody and with him there’s never a dull moment. It’s just that we’re pretty damn different, so our friendship is the kind you have with people based on proximity rather than anything else. He’s one of Ryk’s friends, so we hang out because of that and not because we have that much in common.

One other crucial difference between how I get along with him versus how I get along with Hayes is that Soren doesn’t know about me and Ryker. Partly because there has never seemed to be a good moment to have that conversation, and partly because there’s a small part of me that’s never been quite sure that Soren wouldn’t accidentally blurt it out to somebody else. I think it makes me a bit of a dick because I don’t even know him well enough to think something like that, but the feeling is just there.

We take our seats, the familiar buzzing already starting underneath my skin. It’s the electric atmosphere of the rink that just gets to people.

Plus, I like watching Ryker.

The game itself is—and I realize this is probably blasphemous to say in some circles—but the game itself is secondary for me. Most of my attention is usually reserved for Ryker.

It’s loud and just a bit chaotic, which is nice. I’m just one of the masses here, so I get to relax into my seat.

Soren is in his element. He’s playing in the AHL right now, but in his own words, making it to the NHL is only a matter of time. There’s something pretty fucking endearing about that kind of straightforward confidence.

“This is a good crowd,” Soren says approvingly as he drops into his seat after jumping up for the tenth time in as many minutes.

“It usually is,” I say.

Soren laughs and claps me on the shoulder like I’ve said something funny, but I’m not exactly sure what it could’ve been.

“So?” he calls over the music and the noise after a second. “How’s living with Ryker so far? Finding him annoying yet?”

My lips quirk into a grin. “Should I?”

“I used to share hotel rooms with him. This is a safe space.”

I bite back another smile. “I’m good.” I nod toward him. “How’s the shoulder?”

Soren has been out with an injury for his last few games, but it doesn’t look to be something that ruins his mood.

“My PT is smokin’ hot, and she dislikes me immensely,” he says. “Up until I met her I didn’t know it was possible to dislike me.”

He seems actually flabbergasted about that.

I raise my brows at him. “I didn’t know it was possible to be universally loved.”

“I had a perfect track record until her.”

“You did not.”

He presses his palm to his chest. “I’m hurt by your lack of belief in me, little bro.”

“Still not your brother,” I say with a sigh.

“The brother of my brother is also my brother.”

I roll my eyes and drop it.

My eyes latch on to Ryker the moment he skates out, and he finds me almost as soon as I spot him.

He’s damn fast on skates. I know I’ve said it a million times and thought it a million more, and I’ve watched him develop that speed from the sidelines over the course of a whole lifetime, but it’s still really fucking impressive every time I get to witness it in real time.

I’ve been to enough games by now that I can pretty easily recognize the rest of the team, too, and I’m able to follow the game, which is not something I could say two years ago.

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