Page 39 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“You look really busy,” Linc points out, jerking his chin at my glasses, before glancing at the book on my coffee table.

“Have you even showered today?” Rett asks, wrinkling his brow.

“I was going to after I finished my next chapter.”

“Well, that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Freya never does what she says she’s gonna do after another chapter. There’s always another, and then another, and then another. And before you know it, she’s finished the whole thing.”

“Bookworm problems,” I mock, combing my fingers through my messy hair in a pathetic attempt to tame it.

“Go and shower, then we’re going out,” Linc states.

“Going out where?” I ask hesitantly.

“That’s for us to know,” Rett teases. “Now go and shower and get dressed or we’ll drag you out like you are. But I gotta tell you, man, NHL contract or not, the women won’t want you smelling like that.”

“Fuck you,” I grunt before turning my back on them all and marching toward my bathroom, grabbing a clean pair of boxers and shorts along the way.

But as I close the bathroom door behind me, I can’t help but smile.

The afternoon we got back from the wedding, I felt brave and I messaged our group chat and explained what had happened and apologized for avoiding them.

As I should have expected, every single one of them was incredibly supportive. While our group chat continued, each of them messaged me privately, sending their condolences and asking if there was anything they could do, if me or my family needed anything.

I’ve seen Rett and Linc since. We hit the gym the following day, and I worked out until I couldn’t feel my legs. I tried to keep up with my training while I was at home, but it was hard. Who am I kidding, everything was—and still is—hard work.

But I must admit that day by day, it’s getting easier. And I’m hoping by the time we’re officially back at work that it’ll get easier still.

I have a quick shower. I should probably shave, too, but I don’t want to make them wait longer than necessary out there. Unlike their places, it’s not exactly luxury, and my couch is anything but comfortable.

“Gonna tell me what we’re doing yet?” I ask when I emerge and find myself a T-shirt.

“You’re gonna need these,” Rett says, passing me my rollerblades.

I raise a brow, keeping my arms by my sides.

“Ours are in our cars. We’re going to the beach.”

“Keep talking.”

“Breakfast at Kath’s, and then a little soccer, go for a swim. Pizza after?”

I pretend to think about it. “Will there be ice cream?”

“If our rookie wants ice cream, then we can get ice cream,” Kodie agrees.

“Aw, I’ve heard him say that exact thing to Sutton,” Killer teases.

I shake my head, unable to fight my smile. Damn, I love these guys.

They don’t care that I’m younger or less experienced than they are. They accept me for exactly who I am and show up for me when I need it the most. I’m so fucking lucky to have been signed by the Vipers and ended up with these guys as my teammates. My friends.

“If I can get sprinkles and sauce, I’m in.” I laugh.

“You can have whatever the fuck you want, Marilyn,” Kodie says, pushing to his feet and walking toward the door.

I keep my lips slammed shut, because what I really want isn’t possible.

My eyes catch on the suitcase sitting beside my couch.