28. Winnie
“You look tired.” Mr. Hudson shoots me a sideways glance.
I drop the hand rubbing my eye and shrug. “Long weekend.” That’s not really a lie. After bumping into Reese and Zoey at the diner, Elijah was beyond pissy the entire weekend. I tried to talk to him about what Zoey confessed, but he quickly shut it down, saying it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how it doesn’t, because that was what led to their entire falling out. But apparently, I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s like anytime Reese gets brought up, Elijah shuts down. So I stopped trying to bring it up.
There will always be a part of me that wants to see the good in Reese, and maybe a part that wants to see the bad in Zoey. And although there was a point I doubted him, I think deep down, I wanted to believe what Elijah told me wasn’t true. It makes sense she would do something crazy like that, but I don’t understand why she ever had to bring my brother into her little games. She could have just not agreed to go out with him when he asked her out. She knew she was into Reese and still agreed. I guess that’s where I’ll never understand her. I’ve been into Reese longer than I knew what that meant, and in that time, I’ve never even looked at another man longer than a few beats. It’s messed up since we’ve never even officially dated.
Besides the drama with Elijah, I’ve been nauseous the last few days. Elijah mentioned me not eating, and I blamed it on the diner food, which is quite believable, honestly. But I know that’s probably not it.
I told myself I would buy a test this week. It has been long enough now, but I don’t know if I’m ready. If it is positive, what do I do? I think Reese would oddly be happy, but that alone scares me. Am I ready for a family with a guy who isn’t even my boyfriend? And what about Elijah? What do I tell him?
“Winnie.”
I stop and look up at Mr. Hudson. His eyebrows are furrowed.
“Yeah?”
“You’re muttering to yourself. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can assist with?”
I wish. “Sorry. No, I’m fine. Just some drama with my brother, is all.” To put it lightly.
His eyes narrow behind his glasses, and just when I think he’s going to press, someone speeds by us, music loud enough it would be hard to hear Mr. Hudson if he said anything. I don’t have to look to know who it is.
Mr. Hudson glances toward Reese’s truck and chuckles. “Let’s get inside and get set up.”
“Winnie!”
Sawyer and I look toward Coach.
“The girl.” He rolls his eyes before turning for his office, I guess expecting me to follow.
“If he keeps you on, you gotta find a new nickname,” Sawyer tells me.
“It’s not a nickname. Winnie is my name.”
He angles his body away and taps his shoulder that reads Winnifred across the back in bold letters. “Not in the rink, it’s not.”
“We can call her honey,” Brogan offers, throwing an arm over my shoulders and grinning. Reese skates over like he does anytime one of the guys gets too close.
“Hands off,” he growls and shoots me a harsh look. “And no. You’re not calling her honey.”
Brogan drops his arm but noogies me before skating around to the small crowd of guys.
“So, then what?” I ask.
The lot of them tilt their heads.
“What about Snapshot?” Reese offers, and my tummy flips.
The guys think it over, then nod. “I like it. We can call her Snaps,” Gavin confirms.
“Or Snappy when she’s PMSing.” Brogan winks.
“Anything is better than using my name.” Sawyer nudges my back as he skates behind me.
“It was given to me at birth,” I shout after him, and he flips me off.
“Don’t care.”
Reese skates forward, a timid smile playing on his lips. We haven’t really talked much this week. I’ve been at every practice, but I duck out right after, not wanting to get roped into talking to him. My skating has organically gotten better. So I didn’t need much of his help.
“You better not keep Coach waiting.”
Coach Swanson is sitting in his chair when I walk into the room. Miller, the assistant coach, stands off to the side and smiles at me. I’ve not interacted with him much, but he seems like a nice guy—surprisingly, considering who his daughter is. I was tempted to ask if she was biologically his, but I figured that would be inappropriate—just like mentioning how hot he is. Definition of silver fox.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, sit.”
I take a seat in the green chair in front of his desk. Nerves bubble up inside me, and I shift awkwardly.
A few strands of hair shift from the breeze as he drops a manila folder in front of me. “Here’s your team badge and some paperwork I’ll need back on my desk first thing Monday if you want to go to next week’s games with us. Which you do, because if not, what the fuck are we paying you for? I believe there is some other Timberwolves stuff, but that’s not from me.”
I shoot a look at Miller, and he smiles.
“What is this for?” I pick up the thick folder, surprised by the weight of it.
“You’re hired. Officially,” he says.
My eyes pop open. “Really?”
“Why would I waste my time with a joke?” Coach deadpans. “Of course, really. Kids these days,” he grumbles, but I’m too happy to care how pissy he is. I got it. I kind of hoped I might get hired, even though I told myself it didn’t really matter. The pay is not great, and while it’s a great opportunity for me, it’s not the easiest being around Reese all the time.
But none of that matters now. I pull out my badge and smile at my name followed by Team Photographer. I wish my dad were alive to see this. He would be so proud.
“Get out of my office before you start crying.”
I grin as I pack my stuff away. “Thank you, both of you. I can’t tell you how amazing this is.”
Coach waves me off, already focusing on something else, but Miller offers me a friendly nod.
“It’s our pleasure. You are very talented.”
“Yeah, you’re great. Now get out.”
Miller chuckles, and I grin as I back out of the room. Holding the folder to my chest, I let the door close behind me before I let out a soft squeal. Mr. Hudson stopped coming with me two mornings ago after making sure I could handle it on my own, but I wish he were here right now so I had someone to share the news with.
My eyes snag on the guys on the ice, one in particular. Watching Reese skate shows just how much he loves the sport. I think that’s why I love shooting him; he’s so animated while he plays. Even now, just watching him push the puck around, I know there is nothing he would rather be doing than this.
He shoots the puck, and it sails over Sawyer’s right shoulder and hits the back of the net. Reese pumps his arm and makes a crude gesture toward his friend. And I can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up from my stomach. He glides around the net and glances in my direction. My heart thunders in my chest, and I offer a small wave as well as a smile. I’ve been civil with Reese, but I haven’t gone out of my way to be overly friendly, so when he slows to a stop and tilts his head, I know he has to be wondering what is going on in my head.
Before I think too hard about it, I bounce down the steps to the opening, unable to hide my grin as I wave the folder in his face.
“What’s that?” He pulls his gloves off and tosses them onto the ground at my feet so he can open the folder. He pulls my badge out, and a smile as cheesy as my own stretches across his face. “You got it.”
Something passes between us, and suddenly, we’re just Winnie and Reese, and it’s years ago. I lunge, and he catches me around the waist, spinning us on the ice as he holds me to him.
“Thank you.” I hug him tighter, knowing if it wasn’t for his meddling, I wouldn’t be here.
“As much as I love this, you don’t need to thank me, Win. It’s your talent that got you here.”
He lets me down far sooner than I want but doesn’t move his hands from my waist, keeping me balanced on the ice.
“Did you really doubt you would get it?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Your coach doesn’t seem to like me, so I wondered.”
Reese grins. “He doesn’t like anyone. You’ll get used to it.”
“I guess I will.” I have a whole season to get used to it. A whole season to spend with Reese. Long bus rides, away games… we really need to address what we are. What is—or isn’t—happening between us.
But first, I need to take a test.