Page 49 of Tripped Up

“I’m surprised Wyatt didn’t insist on picking me up,” Bex says carefully.

I glance over at her, surprised. “I didn’t ask him.”

“Are things any better between you two?”

My face warms, remembering the heat that night.

“They’re fine.”

“But you’ve been spending more time together,” she says.

Shrugging my shoulders, I flick on my turn signal to merge into traffic and get out of the airport. “He’s been around lately. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Wait a second. I haven’t mentioned we’ve been hanging out. How does she know?

“Did he say something?” I ask. “About me?”

Bex shrugs, and I have the distinct impression she’s mocking me. “Not much.”

Pressing my lips into a thin line, I try to focus on the road.

Her phone chimes in her hand. “I know this weekend is supposed to be girl time, but he invited us to come to practice today. Is that okay? I don’t know what you have planned.”

“That’s fine.”

I didn’t know he was back. I mean, I knew the team got back into town because we have tickets to their game tonight. But I didn’t know he was back and settled into his routine.

Why didn’t he text me? Now that he’s had his fun, is he ready to move on?

My thoughts get progressively darker as the morning goes on. Thanks, anxiety brain. We drop Bex’s bag off at the apartment and then head out for a bottomless-mimosa brunch. The alcohol doesn’t help the black cloud storming in my head.

Was all of this a game to him?

The training center is on the outskirts of downtown. It’s a top-of-the-line facility with everything a hockey player could ever need or want.

The Uber drops us off at the gate, and Bex and I giggle as we show our IDs to security. They eye us suspiciously, but our names are on the list, so they let us in.

The first player we see is Riley, the rookie, wearing an Aces T-shirt and socks with slides. Wait, what is it the guys call him?

“Puppy Dog!” I call out, and Bex snickers.

His head swivels to face me, horror on his face. “No. Oh, hell no.”

“What’s wrong, Puppy Dog?” she chimes in.

“Fuck, there are two of you.” Riley shakes his head. “Come on, let’s go find Whitney.”

Taking us by the hand like he doesn’t trust us not to make a break for it, he leads us through the maze of the training center until we come to a lounge area with soft-looking sofas. I collapse onto the closest one, burrowing into the cushions.

“How much have you had to drink?” Riley asks. He checks his watch. “Fuck, it’s not even noon.”

“Boozy brunch is boozy.” Bex giggles again, then hiccups. “Wyatt is going to be so upset. I can’t wait.”

He shakes his head. “Just—don’t go anywhere, okay? Stay.”

“Bark, bark,” I say, before the giggles overtake me, too.