Page 66 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
“And she hasn’t sold the story to the press? I can see it now: ‘first woman to bed LA Vipers’ top scorer in years tells all about mystery winger.’”
“You’re not funny,” I grunt.
“Wait…how many years had it been, exactly?”
I shake my head. Mostly because I want him to stop, but also because it was so long that I’m not even sure anymore.
Making a decision that I hope will result in him shutting the hell up, I swing my legs off the bed and mutter, “Are we going for a fucking drink or not?”
His eyes burn into my back as I march toward the door and pull it open.
“You coming, Storm?”
“Hell yeah!” He jumps to his feet and races after me, fist-pumpingthe air.
Ialready felt out of place as I followed Linc into a bar a few blocks over, but it only gets worse as we approach the booth the guys are sitting in.
One by one, they look up, and the second their gazes land on me, eyes widen and chins drop.
I fucking hate it. Mainly because it makes me feel like an asshole.
All these guys welcomed me from my very first training session a year ago, and I’ve thanked them by…mostly being absent.
And it’s not just me. They’ve welcomed Sutton and Mom, as well.
Whenever there have been family events, or even just at the games Sutton attends, they always make the effort to say hello to her. They’ve made her feel as much a part of the team as I am. It’s something I’ll forever be grateful for.
I guess I should probably start showing them.
“Shift over, Marilyn,” Linc says, none too gently shoving our rookie, Hayden Monroe, in the shoulder, forcing him to make space for us.
It’s a big booth, but put a handful of hockey players in it, and it looks tiny. Much like when Sutton tries to put her stuffies into her Barbie house.
Fletch gets the attention of the server before my ass hits the bench, and he orders another round of beers.
“I don’t usually?—”
“Just one. With your team,” Fletch says, turning to me with an understanding expression on his face.
The conversation drifts to tonight’s game and what an asshole Cooper is. I don’t argue the point.
I may have fond childhood memories with him, but every time I come up against him as an adult, another one of them withers and dies.
The second my beer is placed in front of me, I act on instinctand reach for it.
A groan rumbles deep in my throat at the familiar taste.
“Good?” Linc asks with a smirk.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“See, it’s not so bad hanging out with us, is it?”
Guilt knots up my insides that my teammates might think I don’t want to spend time with them.
That’s not it at all. It has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me.
Putting tonight’s loss behind us, we focus on what’s to come. We still have six more exhibition games; hopefully, it’ll be enough time for us to find our footing as a team and embark on our most successful season yet.
