Page 107 of Burn

“My wife reads these books… are theyalllike this?!”

“Keep going, Cally. I like it.”

Me? I don’t so much as smirk. My face remains in a scowl until Brittney notices. “Adrian, would it kill you to play along?”

“It might,” I say, my tone dry.

Ronan throws his arm around my shoulder, dragging me in closer. “Come on, Britt. Go easy on our guy. He’s heartbroken.” He leans close and whispers into my ear, “Think your girl reads these? I bet she thinks about you when she’s flicking —”

The guys laugh harder than they did at the book line, and I shove Ronan away, delivering a hard jab to his ribs before he can finish that thought.

A camera flash pulls my attention back to Britt, and she smiles as she studies the screen. “I’ll caption this one, ‘Our Grumpiest Defenseman: Adrian Liberty.’”

I glare at her and ask, “We finished here?”

She waves us off, and the guys stand in unison and lumber toward the locker room. From behind us, I hear Brittney call out, “Hey, Colton! Give me my book back!”

He laughs, tucking the book into his pants and replies, “Not a chance, Britt. I’m a lonely, single man. I need the inspiration.”

My hands land on the door to the changeroom, and Anton steps in behind me. We walk in together, and he slams a friendly hand on my back. “Hey man,” he says, his eyes on my face and tone casual. “What’s up with you? You look like someone shit in your coffee.”

“Nothing,”I mumble.

He drops onto the bench and kicks his legs out, taking up a tremendous amount of space for one person. I kick his skate out of my way and sit next to him.

“Oh yeah, seems like nothing. Next, you’ll tell me this isactuallythe best day of your life, and you couldn’t have loved that little team-building exercise more. Right?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Do you always talk this much?”

He barks a loud laugh and shakes his head. “Only when I’m feeling feisty.”

I sit up and lock eyes with him. “You wanna get knocked the fuck out?”

“You tried that, remember? You throw fuckin’ pillows. I did promise to teach you to fight, if you’re ever interested.”

His comment earns the first hint of a smile I’ve shown all day, maybe all week, and his smile widens when he sees it. “There he is. Welcome back, bro.”

“Fuck off, Rousseau,” I chuckle.

I take advantage of any moments my mind is free from the beautiful brunette I haven’t seen in too long. The night she left, I’d convinced myself she would stay, hear me out, and give me another chance. The most intense sadness hit me when she picked up the cat carrier. I couldn’t even watch her leave, and now my dreams are plagued by visions of her connected to the metal bed frame. I’ve prayed to be free from nightmares about losing my dad, and seeing Nash’s broken body for so long, but now I’d give anything to go back to those.

Maybe because I didn’t cause those nightmares.

Those piercing screams? I did that.

We change out of our gear, and most of the guys head out for food ahead of the game. Ronan, Cally, and I share a couple of beers in the stands. The arena is still quiet and free from therowdy crowd that will filter in within an hour. We sit halfway up the lower bowl. These are the moments that remind me why I haven’t walked away. The ice is fresh and untouched, and the air is crisp. Ronan’s phone dings, and he pulls it from his jacket.

“Oh, fuck,” he laughs, spinning his phone to face Cally and me. “Britt didn’t hesitate to post that photo. You look positively miserable.” I lean in, and yeah, sure as shit, there I am — a goddamn storm cloud amongst my sunny teammates.

Cally takes a swig of his beer and then says, “You still miserable, or did Anton manage to cheer you up a little?”

“Maybe a little,” I reply.

“Well,” Cally sits up straight and holds his beer out. “To our most miserable d-man, and our new goalie with a death wish.”

Ronan clinks his can into Cally’s. “I’ll toast to that!”

I narrow my eyes at them but ultimately smile and tap my beer to theirs. “I’m notthatmiserable.”

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