Page 61 of Well That Happened

Watchingme.

And when our eyes catch, she doesn’t smile.

She just tilts her head slightly—just enoughto make me remember everything I haven’t said.

The kiss we didn’t have.

The fight we almost did.

And the way she looked walking back into the party after she and Caleb had clearly—

I force the thought away. Did Ineedto interrupt them? Technically no. I could have bandaged the kid up. But fuck that.

I grit my teeth and jump the boards the second we’re up.

I try to play it clean. Smart.

I try to move the puck.

I try to stopthinking.

But I don’t.

I charge the net too hard. Get called for a cross-check that barely lands, but the ref’s been itching for a call.

Whistle blows.

Penalty.

Shit.

I slam the penalty box door and sit, helmet tilted back, chest rising like I just sprinted through a brick wall.

From the box, I can see the stands.

I don’t look at her again.

Not really.

But I know she’s still watching.

* * *

The bar’s loud. Sticky. And it smells faintly of stale beer. But no one cares.

We won.

Caleb scored two goals and assisted a third. Grayson shut down every slapshot like it personally insulted his mother. The freshman line actuallylistenedfor once.

And me?

I sat in the box longer than I contributed on the ice.

Now we’re three pitchers in at our usual booth, and I’m pretending to enjoy my beer while Caleb laughs at something Luke said.

Grayson’s next to me, sipping something dark and not talking. Standard.

“Yo, Caleb,” Luke says, clapping him on the back. “You ever gonna admit you’re carrying this team?”

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