Page 24 of Total Shutdown

“Yeah, well, unlike you and Kendra, I was never interested in getting withKassie.” Archer accentuates her name for effect. “It was a fuck back at my place, and that was it. You and Kendra were always meant to be.”

I hum in agreement. I can’t argue with that logic. I wouldn’t be shocked if, in the next six months, Jack isn’t down on one knee. The way he looks at Kendra—and she, at him—reminds me a lot of the love I shared with Sophie, something I’ve not experienced since. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of feeling.

“All right, Friday’s game against the Destroyers is going to be hard as fuck—I think we all know that.”

Coach Morgan skates over to where the three of us are standing by the boards.

“Is that your technical analysis?” Jack asks his stepdad, earning a narrowed gaze from Coach.

“It’s exactly as I described it,” he replies, his attention snagging on Archer’s face. “And do I dare ask how you got that?” Coach tips his chin at our goalie, circling the area where Archer’s jaw is bruised.

Archer shakes his head and drinks, probably with a sense of relief that the pictures from the bar fight didn’t get far and that, evidently, Shane and his teammates opted not to report anything either.

Coach clears his throat and pulls a clipboard from under his arm. “In preparation for this Friday’s game, there are some plays I want to work on for the second half of practice. Take a minute to reboot, and then I want you all at center ice, ready to leave it all out there. Richards, I could use you right now though, if you have a second?”

Our defenseman nods quickly.

Coach gives Archer’s face one last look and skates off, Emmett hot on his heels.

Jack turns to me and Archer, setting his bottle rink side. “That reminds me about this Saturday night. Darcy’s flight lands at five p.m., so shall we say seven thirty to give her a chance to make it to ours and get changed?”

“Does she need a ride?” Archer perks up, and I know it’s at the mention of Jack’s sibling.

Jesus, this guy never changes.

Last season was Jack’s first in the NHL, and Darcy traveled to New York to watch on a couple of occasions. It was as obvious back then as it is now that Archer digs Jack’s younger sister.

“No,” Jack drawls, his posh British accent really showing. “She doesn’t need a lift because her brother will be at the airport, waiting for her.”

Archer smiles around the spout on his drink bottle but quickly straightens when he sees the look I’m giving him.

Though his playful grin fades for only a second, and I know exactly what’s coming …

“Talking of rides, are you still going, Sawyer? You know, since Collins can’t make it,” he asks innocently.

I deadpan, “Why would Collins being there or not have any effect on my attendance?”

His playful grin turns devilish. “Oh, you know, just thinking she might need some kind of help getting home.” He pauses and takes another sip of his drink, setting the bottle down. “Or back into your bed,” he says, pushing off the boards to join Coach and the team as they gather at center ice.

* * *

“Last week,I asked on my Stories if you guys had any particular issues with the Road Glide model. The response was overwhelming with a ton of you reporting the cam chain tensioner, especially in older models, such as the one I have here. This is my own bike I refurbed a year ago, and the cam chain needed a full replacement. If your bike isn’t running as smoothly, if it rattles, or if the performance is hindered, I would advise this to be one of the first things you look at since leaving this issue for a long period can lead to severe engine damage.”

“Wait up.”

Jack’s muted voice—along with his knock on my driver’s window—has my head darting in his direction.

Since I don’t have blacked-out windows—un-fucking-fortunately—his attention immediately drops to the cell phone in my hand, the screen lit with Collins, wearing her usual ripped black denim shorts and a rock-themed T-shirt, as she stands from a crouched position next to her bike and looks at the camera.

I’m scrambling to lock the screen when it flies from my hand and across the center console, dropping between the seats in my truck.

Fuck.

I knock my head against the steering wheel and blow out a defeated breath.

He taps again, and without lifting my head, I lower the window for him.

When he remains silent, I turn my head slowly and see his blue eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief I’ve come to expect from this guy.

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