Page 77 of Playing the Pucking Game
I expect him to mention something about being benched, but he doesn’t.
“I don’t know. You just…seem different.”
“Just tired, I guess,” I admit quietly.
“Ah, it happens to the best of us,” he says, understanding in his tone. “Next thing you know, you’ll have found a girl and settled down.”
I almost choke on my own spit.
“I don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon.”
Fletch laughs. “We’ll see,” he says before marching forward.
I follow, not wanting to be left out here alone.
The second I step inside, the deep bass of the music hits my ears, and some of my previous worries melt away.
“This way,” Fletch shouts, moving toward the sectioned-off VIP area.
“Brit really pulled out all the stops, huh?” I mutter as we climb the stairs, the music getting quieter with each step we take.
No sooner do we get to the top than a tray of shots is thrust in front of us.
Needing something to take the edge off, I take a glass and swallow the bright pink liquid in one go.
“Ugh, the fuck was that?” I ask.
“Toxic,” Fletch agrees.
Thankfully, another server follows with beer, and we both take a glass, immediately drinking half of it to wash away the taste of the shot.
The team quickly separates and finds seats, and I follow Fletch toward a cluster of couches and sit with him, Killer, Handsy, Brit, and Monroe.
“This place is sweet,” Monroe says, his eyes wide in awe.
It’s easy to forget sometimes that he’s only a rookie and hasn’t experienced life on the road like we all have.
“And did you see the girls as we came in?” He bites down on his knuckles.
“Just wait until someone drops our location on socials and the bunnies descend.”
“Can’t fucking wait, man.”
“Aw, is Marilyn going through a dry spell?” Handsy teases.
“Fuck you,” Marilyn snaps while I scan the VIP section, looking for the girls who travelled with us.
I shouldn’t care. Parker is a grown woman who can look after herself.
But despite telling myself that, I still search for her.
“Where did Brooke and Parker go?” I ask, interrupting Killer as he attempts to get details out of Monroe about his love life.
“They stayed downstairs. Said they wanted to dance,” Handsy states.
Instantly, my eyes dart toward the balcony that looks over the dance floor below.
Don’t do it, Storm.
