Page 4 of Net and Chill

I still haven’t completely dried off from the shower yet and I don’t even want to go out tonight, but it’s Winslow’s birthday. If I don’t show up for the Icebreakers when they invite me out, they assume I think I’m too good for them. I mean. Technically, I’m way too fucking good for them, but I like playing beer league when I’m here. It remindsme that the game is supposed to be fun. Aside from the Bradshaws, the Icebreakers are my family when I’m out here.

I said I’d go, so I’ll go.

I’d rather crash on my couch, eat popcorn, and watchJawson a Tuesday night, but fuck it. I’ll make an appearance at The Penalty Box—why not. When I’m here I don’t have to go to events all the time like I do when I’m in New York, which is good. I can just be me here. Except when I have to wear a fucking wool suit for a photo shoot in summer. I should be annoyed, but…it led me to Bridget. Although going to Peak Brew at 2:00 p.m. instead of 3:00 p.m. yesterday led me to her too.

Shit. Does that mean I should change up when I go to Peak Brew? I’ve had good luck with the goalie camp ever since I started going to Peak Brew at 3:00 p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays. Yeah, that slot’s been working for me. I’m not gonna change it.

But that’s probably why I never saw her there before…

Whatever. I’ll figure it out.

I mean, I’m not gonna get all weird about it. I’m not as superstitious as the press makes me out to be. Yes, I talk to goalposts every game. It’s called showing gratitude. They’re a part of my team, andit’s literally my job to protect them—what am I gonna do?Notthank the pipes every time we block a goal? I am not a monster. Yes, I put my uniform on in the same order every time. And my other clothes too—but that’s called being consistent. That’s having a ritual. Rituals have kept societies from losing their shit for as long as there have been societies.

That is why I will not rush my dinner or my post-shower ritual just so I can get to the bar at a certain time. Dinner, then shower, always. Dry hair before applying deodorant. Clip left toenails before putting on left sock, then clip right toenails and put on right sock. Don’t check the phone until I’m fully dressed.

Rituals.

Adam Foley, the captain of the Icebreakers, is probably grinding his molars to dust by now, but I’ll get there when I get there.

And I’ll drive the same way I went last time because I ended up having a good night.

Well, well.

What have we here?

As soon as I walk into The Penalty Box, I clock my favorite hazel-eyed brunette tailor across the room at the bar with another girl and some guy.

I knew I’d have good luck if I took Balsam to get here instead of Larch. I got a fucking awesome parking spot. “Thunder” by Imagine Dragons is playing over the house speakers, and I’m not reading into it, but I’ve had a good night every time I’ve heard that song, whether it’s at a stadium or a bar like this. And that guy is definitely into the friend and Bridget is definitely trying not to look too excited to see me.

“There he is!” Corey, the most badass defenseman for the Icebreakers, calls out. “The man, the myth, the legend, the late Craig Bowman, ladies and gentlemen!” He stalks over to me just as I stroke my chin and give Bridget a friendly nod.

She smiles shyly and gives a little wave as she tucks her hair behind one ear. She’s wearing a little tank top with a blouse over it and red lipstick. Hot.

“Come on over here—we got beer and a bottle of Jameson and cake! Wait, who are you looking at, bro? The blonde? The brunette? It’s the brunette isn’t it? Wait, I know her!” This guy’s so fucking bigand loud. I hear he’s a good mechanic and I know for a fact that he will protect the goalie with his life, but I have known doorknobs that are smarter than him.

“Okay, where’s Winnie? I brought him a present.”

“You gothima present?” Corey asks with a whine.

This fucking guy. “Is ityourbirthday too?”

“Noooo,” he whines, pouting as he leads me over to the tables and sofas where the guys in sweatpants with the broadest manspread are hanging out with their wives and girlfriends. I nod at the general group.

Adam Foley, as expected, is sitting in the center of the group, arms crossed over his chest and frowning. He isn’t frowning at me so much as he’s frowning at the world and I just happen to be in his line of sight. I give him a two-finger salute, and that will be the extent of our interaction for tonight.

There’s a space next to Winslow on the sofa that Corey just vacated. Shaking hands with Dave, who also plays for the Icebreakers, I sit next to him and the birthday boy without getting comfortable. Holding out my hand for Winslow to shake, I then pull out a fresh block of my favoritebrand of skate-blade-honing stone. It’s premium, and I know for a fact it’s not the kind of thing he’d ever buy for himself. Placing it on the coffee table in front of him, I say, “Happy birthday, Winnie.”

Win picks up the block, examines it, and nods at me.

I nod back. “Stay sharp.”

My work here is done. “Great to see all of you,” I say, patting Winslow on the back and standing up again. “I’m gonna say hi to someone and then head back home.”

“You just got here,” Corey says, as if we don’t all know this.

“Yeah,” I confirm, squeezing his shoulder. “I did.” And that’s all there is to say about that.

In the few minutes since I walked in, the guy and girl who were at the bar with Bridget have disappeared. I saunter over to where she’s sitting. It’s not very crowded here tonight. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a guy who’s definitely a tourist heading her way, but he stops in his tracks when he sees me approaching her. Smart man.