Page 92 of Hot Shot
I pick up my beer and drain the rest of it as the waiter comes to the table with our meals. We order another round of drinks and dive into our food. I wouldn’t normally have a second drink with dinner but between meeting EJ and dinner with Elias, I need it.
“So,” Elias says, finally breaking the silence that settled as we ate. “How are you enjoying Florida? Are you fitting in well with the Storm?”
“It’s good. The team is great. Not sure we’ll be headed to the playoffs this year, but who knows.”
“You all are in a better position than us. There’s still a lot of season left. Anything can happen.”
“That’s true. How’s your season going?”
“I’m having a terrible season. Missing easy passes. Haven’t scored a goal in the last ten games. During our last game Coach benched me for the final period because of how bad I’ve been playing. I don’t know if I’ll be playing in Nashville after the season is over. Maybe even before then.”
“Oh?” My mouth falls open. He’s played his whole career in Nashville, and now he thinks he might not be around much longer? Shit.
“I’m butting heads with some of our newer players. The chemistry is off. I don’t know, maybe it’s me.” He shakes his head and takes a long pull of his drink.
“That sucks.”
Elias shrugs. “Yeah, but it is what it is. How’d you meet Madison?”
I let him change the subject even though I want to ask him more about what’s going on with his season.
“I met her randomly when I walked by her car that was broken down. Helped her jump it. Ran into her a few weeks later when I went into the bakery she works at.” I smile thinking about how we met and then met again a few weeks later. As if fate wanted us to be together.
“She makes you happy? Wait.” He puts up a hand. “Better question: do you make her happy?”
I shake my head at him and chuckle. “Yeah. I mean, I think I do.”
“Good,” Elias says, picking up his fork and going back to his food.
“What about you? Dating anyone?”
“Nah, man. No one wants to date this grumpy old bastard.”
I laugh because Elias doesn’t give off grumpy old bastard vibes, but maybe he’s different around me.
We finish our dinner chatting about surface-level topics—the weather, the All-Star events next month, trade rumors we’ve both heard.
“Want to go out for drinks? The night is still young,” Elias asks as we make our way toward the parking lot a little while later.
“I’m gonna head home.” I pull my keys out of my pocket.
“You can say it, Hunt.”
“Say what?”
“That you’d rather go home to your woman than hang out with your brother.”
“Eli.” I see the surprise in his eyes when I use his childhood nickname. I take a deep breath. “I’m glad we finally had dinner. Talked. I don’t think we’re at the ‘going out for drinks’ stage of our relationship yet.”
“I get it. One day, though.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Soon I hope.”
I nod in agreement. We stare at each other for a few seconds.
“See you tomorrow night. Don’t check me too hard into the boards,” I finally say. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Any time, little brother. Any time.” Elias turns and walks to where his car is.
I set off toward my truck and pull out my phone to call Madison.
