Page 303 of Playing the Pucking Game
“You should probably get going, or your coach will be ripping you a new one.”
A self-deprecating laugh erupts from him. “What’s new there?”
“Aw, he loves you really,” I tease.
“Hmm,” he mumbles as he gathers his stuff.
“You’re going to turn it around before the end of the season,” I tell him, trying to leave our time on a positive note.
“Maybe, but it’s a bit late now. We have no chance at the playoffs from the bottom of the division.”
He’s right. But there’s always next year.
“You guys are going to do it, though. It’s about time the Vipers got the cup.”
“Hell yeah, it is,” I cheer, only able to imagine what it’ll be like to live out that childhood dream. It’s just a shame we won’t do it together like we always talked about.
“Right, well. I’ll…uh…see you soon, I guess.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, my mood instantly souring.
Rett stalks toward the roller door we’ve opened with his duffel swung over his shoulder.
I watch him go with a heavy heart. I hate that he’s suffering and that there’s nothing I can do about it.
He’s about to walk out of the storage unit when I call for him.
He looks back, and his eyes widen when he sees me racing toward him.
“Wha—”
His question is cut off when I wrap my arms around him.
He tenses in my hold, but I don’t let go.
“Love you, man,” I say.
The last two days might have been some of the worst our friendship has seen, but how I feel about him will never change. One day soon, he might become my brother-in-law, but really, he’s always been my brother.
After a few seconds, he relaxes, and his arms wrap around me.
“Love you too, bro,” he says before we part.
His words have a lump of emotion crawling up my throat.
“I know you’ll take good care of her, and not just because I’ll kick your ass if you don’t.”
I scoff, but if the last two days have taught us anything, it’s that I’ll let him get his punches in if he deems them necessary.
“Thanks, man. I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy.”
I glance at my watch briefly. “Shit, you really need to go.”
“Jesus,” he mutters as he checks his cell and books a rideshare. “Talk to you later, man. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
The second he’s gone, the nerves really kick in.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
