Page 134 of The Overtime Kiss

FUCK-UPS AND FIASCOS

Tyler

The second we step out of the hotel near the Space Needle, I’m drenched.

“Are you kidding me?” I say to the sky. It’s pelting raindrops down.

We’re in Seattle, having flown up this morning so we can play tomorrow afternoon. I’m heading to the arena for a workout with Rowan and Miles.

“It’s almost like you barely grew up in this town,” Miles says, adjusting his collar but heading into the downpour regardless. The arena’s not far from here.

“Want an umbrella?” Rowan mocks.

“No,” I grumble, since there’s no way I’d ever admit to needing one. The guys would give me hell.

“Maybe you can get a cup of hot chamomile tea at the arena and a warm footbath,” Rowan teases.

“Do you like getting soaked?” I counter as we walk quickly toward the grounds.

“Fucking love it,” Rowan says, lifting his face to the dark sky, inviting the rain. “Makes me stronger. Something you should consider sometime.”

“Thanks, appreciate it,” I say, but then I go quiet as they shoot the breeze about the local music scene.

I’m quiet too, as we head into the arena and make our way down to the visitors’ locker room. I can’t stop thinking about Sabrina. I can’t stop thinking about when Elle showed up, and I barely knew how to handle the moment after. And I definitely can’t stop thinking about my own fuck-up with Sabrina—the whole Christmas fiasco. Althoughfuck-upsis more appropriate—I’m pretty sure there were several.

I stew a little longer as we hit the weight room, then I move through bench presses, flies, and triceps with barely a word while Miles and Rowan debate punk rock versus classic rock.

When I set down the barbell on the weight bench and push up, Miles turns away from the rack of weights on the wall and meets my gaze in the mirror. “You’re grumpier than usual. What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Rowan snorts but doesn’t stop his crunches. “Bullshit. What’d you do?”

I narrow my eyes. “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because that’s how you act when you’re mad at yourself. You get all grumbly and quiet. You complain about the weather…”

What the hell? Are they holding up a mirror to my dark soul?

I don’t deny it, but I don’t answer them either. I don’t even know how to begin to open up about everything that’s wrong. Where would I start? This is all new to me in its own way. I was married for eight years in a very friendly, very lackluster marriage. We grew apart.

There isnothinglackluster about Sabrina. She’s fiery and feisty and passionate and completely off-limits, and I am so out of my element.

Rowan points at me. “You’re thinking way too much.”

I heave a sigh. Maybe I should tell them. I haven’t been able to swim my way out of this murky gray quicksand I’ve been in since yesterday morning. “The thing is…I’ve gotten involved with Sabrina.”

Rowan thrusts an arm in the air. “I just need to say—I was the first one to call it. Back at the gym before the season started.”

Miles smacks his shoulder. “Dude, my girlfriend called it a year ago when Tyler met Sabrina the night she performed at a hockey game. She told me then that she thought he had it bad for her.”

“So you’re claiming first-sies because of your girlfriend? Real classy, Captain,” Rowan retorts.

I drag my hands through my hair and cut through the madness. “Guys, I really fucking like her. And I messed up.”

They snap to it, their expressions suddenly serious.

“What happened?” Miles asks with big-brother concern.

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