Page 45 of Stick With Me
And there it is.“Correct. We were college teammates.”
“What caused the fight on the ice tonight?” The same reporter pushes for an answer.
“Emotions were high. We both wanted the win. I don’t have any other comment on it.”
“Thanks, everyone, that’s it for tonight,” our public relations rep shouts across the room.
As I step out of the arena and the crisp February air hits my face, I pull out my phone to call Hannah but stop myself. I’m torn between wanting to comfort myself with her voice right away and waiting to talk to her in person. I’m not sure what she’ll think about my fight with Knolls, and I’m worried I’ve caused more harm than good. A text from her is waiting, easing some of the tightness in my chest.
Hannah:
I’m sorry! Are you okay?!
Me:
I don’t recall you being the one throwing the punches… I’m fine, don’t worry.
I’m going to Sully’s with the guys for a drink. Want to meet us?
Hannah:
No sports.
Can’t I’m at the Ada’s house.
Me:
Someone’s been drinking.
Hannah:
How do you know?
LOL fine, you caught me.
Me:
How about I pick you up on my way home? I don’t want you taking a rideshare alone when you’ve been drinking. Text me when you’re ready to leave, okay?
Hannah:
Okay.
When we get to Sully’s, Fox, Volk, and I, along with most of our teammates, grab some high-top tables at the back of the bar, giving us a little privacy. I pull my hat low over my head, trying not to be recognized, but it’s no use when I’m surrounded by loud hockey players who thrive on attention.
“Want to explain what the fuck that was?” Fox asks, wasting no time. With the larger group spread out at different tables, it’s just Fox, Volk, and me sitting at this one.
“Just Knolls being Knolls. I had enough of him talking shit about Hannah,” I explain.
“The chick you’re in love with?” Volk asks.
No one but Fox knows our full history. He only knows because, after a night of too much whiskey, I spilled my guts about my undying and unrequited feelings for my best friend. And in true Fox fashion, he’s never let me live it down.
“You told him?” I scowl at Fox, then turn back to Volk. “I’m not in love with her, dumbass.”
“Okay,” Fox draws out the two syllables.
“He didn’t. I saw the way you looked at her in the training room,” Volk explains, then takes a gulp of his beer.
