Page 17 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“No, you kinda grunted. You jealous, Sisi?” he asks, glancing at the happy couple ahead of us.

“I don’t want to bang a hockey player.”

“I’m not saying you do. You want the relationship, though, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure that’s a secret, G. I’m not the kind of girl who can do hookups. Not really. I’m always looking to the future and wondering what if, even if they’re utterly unobtainable.”

“You’ll find him,” he says confidently, wrapping his arm around me and squeezing supportively. “And who knows, he might be closer than you think.”

6

CALVIN

When we step into the Fractured Compass, instead of walking toward our usual booth, I stalk toward the bar.

I need something to take the edge off, and I need it fast.

While the guys will limit themselves to a couple of beers at most, seeing as they have practice tomorrow morning and another game the night after, I don’t have fuck all to get up for.

Okay, so that’s not entirely true. Darcy will be expecting to see me in the gym first thing. But it’s not as important as what these guys need to do. What’s going to happen if I’m late? Nothing. Right now, no one is relying on me for anything, and I fucking hate it.

“Whiskey. Neat,” I demand when the barman comes over.

“Great win tonight, man,” he says, having instantly recognized me. I mean, I’m not surprised. There aren’t many home games where we don’t come here to hang out.

It’s a cool place. Off the beaten track and we’ve managed to keep it fairly quiet, so it’s not filled with overexcited fans or overeager bunnies. It’s a place where we can hang out, recover, and dissect the events of the night before we move on to somewhere a little more…fulfilling.

Or at least, that’s what the old me did.

There won’t be any clubs tonight. Nor will there be any bunnies.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “They did good.”

He gives me a sympathetic look before going to get my drink.

No sooner has he placed the glass before me than I lift it to my lips and drain the glass.

The alcohol burns all the way down, but it’s exactly what I need.

“Another and a beer, please,” I order.

The guy—Kirk, maybe—opens his mouth as if he’s going to reject my order, but he must think better of it, and quickly turns around to get it.

With the second whiskey burning its way to my stomach, I wrap my fingers around my beer, take a deep breath, and make my way over to the guys’ booth. If I’m gone too long, they’ll send someone to come and find out what’s wrong. I might have agreed to come tonight, but I sure as shit don’t want to talk to anyone.

“Let me take that for you,” Sienna’s date says. What was his name? Grant? Grady? Gunther?

Fuck knows. Don’t care.

Before I can argue that I can carry my own fucking drink, he has it out of my hand and walks beside me, talking to me about my stats and the number of defensive zone giveaways I had before I blew out my knee.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Thankfully, as we get to the table, he places my beer down and allows me to sit beside Linc while he retakes his seat opposite me beside Sienna.

I try to look away, but no matter how hard I do, my eyes remain trained on them.

I might not know all that much about Sienna, but I wouldn’t put her with a guy like him. He seems…I don’t know. Uptight, I guess. She’s more of a happy-go-lucky girl. Or at least, she used to be. She loves hockey, that’s more than obvious, but I can’t imagine that she can recite any of our stats like the man sitting beside her.