Page 65 of Rookie Moves

Grinning to myself, I head into the restaurant.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TYLER

“So, I take it you’re graduating this year, Tyler?” Grace asks.

We’re tucked in the corner of the hotel restaurant in one of the booths lined against the back wall, and Colby’s been so relaxed it’s made my heart swell in my chest. He’s been laughing and teasing his parents, and there’s a lightness about him I haven’t seen around others.

His parents seem like good people, and I’m glad he has them in his corner. They’ve also taken a keen interest in me, which is nice, but it means I’ve had to think through what I say to avoid them finding out how I feel about their son.

“Yeah, I am. It’s kinda crazy to think it’s all coming to an end soon. These last four years have been a whirlwind in the best way.”

“Have you got any potential team prospects lined up? I hear it’s picking up in Europe if the East Coast or Canada isn’t any good,” Jamie says.

I catch Colby stiffening out of the corner of my eye. I’ve come to learn that Colby gets upset when the topic of my future comes up. The fact that he cares so much means a lot to me because the only other person who gives a shit about me is Piper.

I take a sip of my soda, giving myself a moment. His dad has been incredibly positive about my stats this season, so I’m sure my next words are going to come as a shock to him.

“No, sir, I won’t be playing hockey next season.”

“What?” he sputters, staring at me over the frame of his glasses. “You’re kidding me, right?” He turns his gaze to Colby. “Tell me he’s being a joker.”

Colby lets out a quiet, shaky laugh, but it comes out more like a sigh. “No, Dad, he’s not joking.”

Jamie swings his attention back to me, and it’s like taking a glimpse into the future and seeing what Colby might look like in twenty years. Jamie is a handsome guy. They have the same bone structure, and their hair is the same shade of blond. His eyes have the same amber tones, but they don’t enrapture me like Colby’s do. His mom is incredibly beautiful too. It’s no wonder Colby is as gorgeous as he is.

“Tyler, please tell me to fuck off if it’s none of my business, but why the hell aren’t you playing next season?”

“Unfortunately, going pro has never been an option for me. It’s always been the plan since I was born to join my father’s business once I got my degree, so I’ll be heading back to Arizona after graduation.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my tone, but I don’t think I do a very good job because Colby’s mom gives me a sympathetic look.

“What would you do? If you were given the chance?” she asks softly.

“Honestly?” I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve mentioned it to Colbs before that because I knew my future was already decided for me, I’ve never let my mind wander down that path.” I glance down at my empty plate. Only crumbs of the steak sandwich I ate remain. “It seemed like a waste of time to dream about something that wasn’t possible.”

They must not pick up on the slip of my tongue by calling him Colbs because they both frown, and Colby ducks his head.

I hate that I’ve put a damper on what has been an incredible lunch with Colby’s parents by bringing up my own. Spending time with them has made me realize how different our upbringings were, and how I’ve ached to experience this for myself.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. Every parent should give their child the opportunity to decide what they want to do with their lives,” Grace says with a sad smile.

“He didn’t give us a choice.” Jamie points to Colby, then twists to ask Grace, “Do you remember that time when he was like, six? And he had a fever?” He turns to face me again. “We went into his room to check on him, only to find his bed was empty. We couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“Then I looked out the kitchen window and spotted him shooting pucks into the net in the backyard,” Grace snickers.

His dad slaps his hands on the table and leans forward, a gleeful expression on his face that makes him look ten years younger. “Wearing nothing but his underwear, snow boots, and a woolly hat. It was eight degrees.”

A bark of laughter escapes me. The mental image of his parents trying to wrangle Colby inside in all kinds of weather appears in my mind, making me laugh harder. Beside me, Colby’s cheeks are red in embarrassment, but he’s trying his damnedest not to smile.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I grin with a shake of my head.

“We had to introduce a new rule: you must wear clothes to play hockey,” his dad laughs.

“He’s always been obsessed, and now he’s here.” His mom smiles softly, looking at her son with such fondness. “About to compete in the Frozen Four.”

“Can we stop talking about me now?” Colby grumbles, picking up the dessert menu and pretending to read it.

The conversation shifts to my studies, and I can’t help but notice how they haven’t brought up the draft once. It’s like whenever the topic of hockey and Colby’s career has come up, they focus purely on what he’s achieved and this weekend. There’s been no mention of the NHL, or the media, or the constant hype that follows him around.