36. Dylan #2
When I follow her gaze, I find Riley watching me, before a knowing look enters her eyes. “Your dad was Patrick?”
I swallow before nodding. “He was.”
“I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head. “That was such a tragedy. I was at that game. Thankfully, Aurora was at a sleepover, but…it was awful.”
I have nothing to say in response. What is there to say?
It was the worst game—the worst day—of my entire life.
I still have nightmares about that night.
The blood staining the white ice. My father’s unmoving form, the entire team huddled around him, blocking him from view so we couldn’t see whether he was okay or not. Whether he was still alive .
“I remember meeting your mother at a couple of the games,” she continues, snapping me from my dark thoughts. “Such a vibrant woman. It was clear for everyone to see that she loved Patrick. I hope she’s doing okay.”
My throat is tight. All I can do is nod and give a half-assed smile.
“The other wives mention her often. She’s thought of all the time, and I know the other women would love to see her, if she felt up to doing anything.”
“Thanks,” I say curtly. “I’ll pass the message along.”
The blare of a ringtone thankfully cuts off any further conversation, and I move away as Riley digs her vibrating phone out of her pocket.
“Don’t even think about barging in here, Grayson,” she answers sharply. There’s a brief pause, where the other person—Grayson—says something. “Everything is fine. We’ll be out in a minute.”
“Sorry about that,” she apologizes once she’s hung up. “He’s a tad overbearing. ”
“Not with me,” Aurora interjects, making both of us laugh.
“Especially with you,” her mother retorts. “Right now, you think it’s funny, but wait until you’re older. You’re going to hate him.”
Aurora gapes at her mother in horror. “I could never hate Grayson.” Turning to me, she explains, “He’s my brother-daddy.”
“Dear Lord,” Riley groans, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.
“Please stop oversharing our family dynamics with people in bathrooms. They are going to think we’re crazy.
” Speaking to me, she adds, “It’s not as weird as it sounds.
” She then pauses, seeming to think. “Actually, it is. When you lay out the facts like my daughter so bluntly does, it is as weird as it sounds, but I promise it somehow all makes sense.”
I hold my hands up. “No judgment here. I’m hardly in a position to comment on anyone else’s situation when I’m currently here with four guys and have K-I-S-S-E-D all of them .”
Riley just laughs, not the least bit appalled by my actions.
“Oh, I do not miss those days.” She shakes her head, still smiling.
“I’m so glad we finally made it through.
Only advice I can give is to not shut yourself off because you think you shouldn’t want it.
If these guys are worth it, then do what makes you happy.
Life is too short to play by societal rules. ”
Aurora tugs on Riley’s sleeve. “What does K-I—that word mean, Mommy?”
“That’s a grown-up word that little girls don’t need to worry about. What you do need to worry about is Grayson storming in here if we don’t go find him.”
“Oh no.” Aurora begins pulling on Riley’s sleeve, trying to drag her toward the bathroom door. “He and Mommy get all kissy-faced whenever he does that,” she says, nose scrunched in disgust as she does her best to encourage her mom out the door. “It’s gross .”
I laugh, and Riley calls a quick goodbye before her daughter pulls her out of the bathroom.
Left alone, Riley’s words turn over in my mind as I use the toilet and wash my hands.
I’ve spent so much time being sad, but Riley is right.
Life is too short. My dad is proof of that.
His death is proof that life as a pro-hockey player can be taken from you at a moment’s notice.
I don’t want to spend what time I have left on this earth grieving.
Dad wouldn’t want that for me. He’d want me to be happy.
Just like he wouldn’t have wanted me to give up hockey.
I was able to find my way back to the sport we both loved.
Now I need to find my way back to the life I loved too.
I emerge from the bathroom with a smile on my face and a pep in my step that I didn’t have before. Griffin immediately notices—because, of course he does—and arches a brow as I approach where he’s standing with the others. I merely shrug my shoulders and look between them. “What’s the plan now?”
“We could grab some food?” Ethan suggests.
“I could eat,” Jax says, while Finn and Griffin nod.
“There’s a bar not far from here,” I suggest. “Does the best hot wings and cheesy fries.”
“Sold!” Jax claps his hands together before gesturing toward the arena doors. “Lead the way.”
We dissect the game while we make the short walk to the bar.
Ethan and Finn are arguing over a particular pass one of the players made.
I wish I’d been able to pay better attention, but I enjoy listening to them talk around me.
Hockey is the one thing that unites all of them.
If it weren’t for the game, I don’t think any of them would be friends. That’s…a sad thought.
“You having a good night?” Jax asks, moving to walk beside me. He stands so close that the backs of our hands brush before he links a finger around mine in a loose hold.
It’s stupid how such a small gesture has me fighting back a smile. I’m supposedly on a date with Griffin, yet here Jax is, reminding me he doesn’t give a shit about the rules. I kinda like it, how he doesn’t just step aside.
“You seemed a little off back there.”
I offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m good. This has been fun. We should do it again.”
The corners of his lips tilt up. “Yeah? You wanna go out with us again?”
The way he says that, all deep and suggestive, has my core clenching and dirty thoughts racing through my mind. He makes it sound like I’m not simply on a date with Griffin, but with all of them.
My thoughts drift back to Riley and her insinuation that she’s with multiple men.
Is a relationship like that truly possible?
Is it something I even want? I’ve found a strange sort of home with these guys—even Finn, who has gone out of his way to ensure I’m cared for even while ignoring me.
However, I made a rash decision about a boy after my father’s death, and it’s one I’ll regret for the rest of my life.
I don’t want to rush into a similar situation.
But then, while I am still grieving—is there ever a time when I won’t be?
—it’s not as raw and potent as it was back then.
It doesn’t affect my ability to make decisions the same way.
I look up into Jax’s handsome face. His expression is always carefully masked, but his eyes give him away. They brim with emotion that I don’t think he truly allows himself to feel.
“You know, I think I do. ”
I’m rewarded with a wide grin that shows off the dimple in his chin.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Jax express his emotions so openly—and every time, what he’s feeling has been directed at me.
He never allows others to see this side of him.
Never truly lets anyone in. Yet, for some reason, he’s been letting me in.
He pulls open the door when we reach the bar, gesturing for me to go ahead.
Murphy’s is your average, run-of-the-mill corner bar.
If you didn’t know about it, you’d walk right past it without a second thought.
As I step inside, I’m greeted with dark wooden walls and dimly lit sconces which cast a soft amber glow and makes everything feel a little hazy.
A handful of patrons sit at the bar, their low murmurs mixing with the occasional clink of glasses and the muted hum of a game playing on the old TV mounted in the corner.
The air smells of fried food and spilled beer.
We claim an open booth near the back, Griffin sliding in beside me without hesitation.
Jax takes the seat directly across from me, his sharp gaze flickering between Griffin’s arm, draped casually over the back of the booth, and me before stretching his legs out under the table so they tangle with mine.
I fight back a smile, something warming inside me at his jealousy and the fact that he isn’t put off by Griffin’s open posturing.
It makes me wonder again if something more could be possible between me and them.
Ethan joins him, while Finn settles at the end, keeping as much distance as possible between us. I roll my eyes at that.
A server swings by, dropping off sticky menus and taking our drink orders. We order a round of beers before each taking a moment to decide what we want to eat.
“Everyone up for sharing the platter of hot wings and fries?” Jax asks, looking around the table. Everyone murmurs their agreement, and we place the order when the waitress returns with our drinks.
Sitting back in my seat, I ask, “So, what are each of you studying?” I’ve lived and played alongside these guys for nearly two months, but I don’t even know that basic thing about them.
Sure, I’ve overheard them talk about a particularly difficult class or some assignment they are working on, but I don’t know their majors, their plans for after college, or five years from now.
Unsurprisingly, they each rattle off something sports related—broadcasting, sports management, physiotherapy.
I snort at their answers. “I’m assuming the ultimate plan is to go pro then?”
“Obviously,” Finn retorts, like it’s not even a question. Like making it to the NHL is a foregone conclusion. Oh, how I wish it were that certain for me.
“What about backup plans?” I challenge.
Jax waves a hand. “We’ll figure it out if we need to. We know what we want, and we have our degrees for if things don’t work out as planned, but why put too much focus on something that isn’t what we ultimately want?”