Page 18 of Breakaway Goal

Honestly, on a team where all the other single guys are shameless players, it’s kind of adorable.

Jamie might not be the best at talking to girls, but he’s sure as hell stepping up on the ice.

Last year, he was a second-line forward, but this year, Coach has shifted him to taking Lane’s spot as my fellow first-line defenseman until Lane returns. Jamie’s working his ass off during practices to grow into the role, and he’s impressing everyone.

After we’re dressed, Lane, Sebastian, Tuck, Hudson, and I—the usual gang—all agree to head to the ramen place for lunch.

I slap Lane on the back as we step out of the practice facility. “Jamie’s pretty sharp out there, but I can’t wait to be playing next to you again.”

“Yeah,” Lane says, his voice sounding forced, and the weak smile on his face looking even more forced.

I can tell Lane just isn’t in the mood to talk about hockey right now. We lag a couple paces behind the rest of the guys, and I talk about hearing news that a comedy series we like to watch together finally has a start date for its next season. With something other than hockey to talk about, Lane’s perked up a bit by the time we get to the restaurant.

My stomach’s growling so hard I can feel it in my limbs as Hudson pulls the door open; but when we walk in, the surly middle-aged proprietor who’s always behind the order counter is missing.

“Huh,” Tuck muses. “Where is he?”

Sebastian shrugs. “People need to use the bathroom sometimes.”

But in the moment of quiet that follows, we all hear a twinkling giggle from somewhere behind the counter.

“Was that …?” Hudson begins, tilting his ear in the direction of the sound like there was something about it he recognized.

The five of us stealthily step to the counter, like we’re sleuths investigating the mystery of the briefly missing ramen shop owner.

We hear the sound again. Louder and more distinct this time.

“That’s definitely a woman giggling,” I whisper, leaning slightly over the counter and craning my neck to see if I can spot anyone back there in the staff-only area.

It’s weird, because the guy who owns this shop is borderline misanthropic. And the only reason I sayborderlineis because, strangely, Hudson and Tuck are friendly with him. Everyone else who’s come here would call the owner, Kazu, anything frompretty rudetoa total asshole.

Hudson and Tuck insist he’s just misunderstood, though. Whatever. Either way, a woman’s soft, high-pitched giggle is the absolute last thing you expect to hear from behind the counter in this place.

Then, from down a hallway that we can’t quite glimpse from where we’re standing, we hear a door open.

Then another giggle, more subdued this time—and a gruff, masculine chuckle follows it.

Two sets of footsteps pad toward us.

Then, a high-pitched gasp as a curvy, vivacious-looking woman sees us, and her cheeks turn cherry-red.

It’s Cindy, the owner of Last Word, a bookstore-slash-coffee shop in town.

She recoils backward in surprise, bumping into the broad, sturdy chest of Kazu, the ramen shop owner, who’s following right behind her.

The way his eyes open in surprise and his eyebrows elevate slightly at being spotted is the most emotion I’ve ever seen this dude show.

An even louder gasp comes from Tuck, whose brows are reaching for his hairline and whose mouth is stretched in a massive, open smile. Even Hudson is reacting, his lips puckered in interest and surprise.

Hudson and Tuck were obsessed with these two last year, treating them like their own personal reality show. They were convinced that they had a thing for each other but were dancing around it because neither of them knew how to make a move.

Most of us were skeptical, but it’s hard to argue now.

I guess one of them must have figured out how to make that move over the summer.

“Oh, boys, hello,” Cindy collects herself. She knows us as regular customers at her place. “I was stopping by to … deliver … the newsletter. You know. The Cedar Shade Small Business Association newsletter. To Kazu. Because he owns a small business. In Cedar Shade. You’re in it right now!”

“Yes, the newsletter,” Kazu pronounces in his usual deadpan. “Thank you. I will read it.”

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