Page 58 of Make the Play

“I will fuckingendyou!”

Reid doesn’t even flinch as he calmly takes the final blow. “You can’t. You’re too busy phoning home.”

Silence. Game over. Then chaos and cackling and alien reenactments. Eli storms off toward the showers in defeat, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

And suddenly, Chaz doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

Which is a problem, because once we roll into The Rink Rat and Zoe hears it, she’s going to murder me.

And the worst part?

I think I’d still grin as she does it.

Chapter thirteen

I will waterboard you with your own beer

Zoe

It’s a mistake to let Tamara buy the first round.

Not because she’s reckless. She’s meticulous, always weighing her options and making informed decisions. No, it’s a mistake because Tamaraknows things. She pays attention. And the moment she slides a whiskey sour in front of me and smirks like the Cheshire fucking Cat, I know I’m about to get grilled.

A lazy energy hums through The Rink Rat with a pulse of low laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint static of a hockey game playing on a shitty TV. It’s not the kind of place that caters to high-profile athletes, which is exactly why we all keep coming back. That, and for the gold star hosting from Gary, who gives exactly zero shits about hurting anyone’s feelings.

Tamara rests her chin in her hand as she leans in, considering me. “So… When were you going to tell us?”

Across from me, Charlie huffs out a laugh, lifting her lemonade with a little smirk. “She’s been having so much hot sex with a younger man, it slipped her mind.”

I kick her under the table.

Charlie doesn’t so much as flinch, just grins serenely over the rim of her glass, pleased with her part to play in this absolute fucking circus. Traitor.

Tamara hums thoughtfully. “Oh,of course.Hot sex with the very same younger man you swore you’d rather set on fire than breathe the same air as.”

“Can we please stop referring to him as ayounger man?!”

“He is, though. You’re basically a cougar.”

Charlie purses her lips as if this conversation requires thoughtful acknowledgement. “Is five years considered cougar territory?”

“It’s four and a half!” I know I sound hysterical, but those six months matter, damn it.

Lulu, who has been dragged along to this interrogation by her new sister-in-law, approaches from the women’s bathroom and slides in next to Tamara. “Oh! Are we talking about Zoe’s boyfriend?” She claps her hands together, delighted. “Fun.”

“This is ridiculous,” I groan, dragging a hand through my hair.

Tamara's eyes narrow. “Are youreallydating him?”

I open my mouth. Close it. Then turn to Charlie, who is supposed to be on my side but just continues to sip her drink with wide, innocent eyes.

I hate everyone at this table.

“No, really, I’m fascinated,” Tamara continues, lightly stroking her chin as she considers her verdict. “One second you’re actively plotting his demise, and the next you’resmilingaboutthe fact he could grab your ass in broad daylight! Zoe, come on. You expect me to believe this?”

Summoning every ounce of PR professionalism I have, the best retort I come out with is a meager, “Things… changed.”

“Changed how?”

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