Chapter 11
ELEVEN
EVAN
Chants of “Playoffs” resounded within the locker room as the team shared drinks post-game. We’d won a major victory, beating the Sharks in five games.
Mason Hopkins stepped up to me, still in his skates, and smacked my ass. “Dude, what a goal. Holy fuck, I did not see that coming.”
“Truthfully? Neither did I.” With a smile so wide my cheeks hurt, I unscrewed a freezing cold bottle of beer.
Seizing the chance for a last-second score had been the correct decision.
“But their damn goalie was focusing on you and Jarvis, so.” I sipped the beer, the cool bubbles gliding down my still-heated throat.
Volkov ambled toward me. “Crosby, hell of a goal.” He side-hugged me and then glanced at Hopkins. “Maybe we trade places. Hopkins can take defense while you center in the next game.” He wagged his brows at Mason.
Pushing Volkov’s shoulder, Mason said, “Fuck off, you caviar-eating motherfucker.”
“Hey, it’s good. You should try it.” Volkov pounded his chest. “Makes you score lots of goals, like this guy.” He gave me a soft knuckle to the chin on the side that wasn’t bandaged.
Archer Carlson, part of our first defensive pair and Lucas’s partner on the ice, strode toward me. “Crosby, nice going out there. My dad about shit himself. You should have seen him behind the bench.” He barked out a laugh. “I’ve never seen him jump so high.”
Coach Dupont was his father. I doubted that arrangement would have suited me, considering the pressure my dad already put on me. “Thanks, Carlson. I’ve got a long way to go to reach the level you and Little Hopkins are at, but I’m doing my best.”
“Always humble.” Lucas appeared at my side with an open beer in his hand and swung an arm around my shoulders. “You’ve gotten so much better since we were partners on the Firebirds. I can’t wait to have you here next season.”
With a scoff, Mason shoved his brother in the chest. “Lucas, what did I tell you about jinxing shit? We’re in the playoffs. Everything counts now. Don’t ruin his chances.”
“Damn, bruh, chill out with the superstitions.” He let out a sharp laugh. “You’re fucking insane.”
“No, I’m not. Listen to your big bro.” Mason threw him a quick glare.
“Mason, what have you done to Lucas now?” Jarvis joined our circle and patted Lucas on the shoulder. “You played well tonight, kid.” He focused on me. “And damn, that goal was a snipe. I don’t think I could have done it better.”
“Thanks, man.” Damn, if the top players on the team had noticed me, what about the coaching staff?
Ace lumbered toward us, his blockers and helmet off, but the rest of his gear still on. “Hey, I was talking to a few of the guys and we’re thinking of hitting a bar downtown. You guys in?” He flashed a smile at us.
“Hell yes.” Mason’s face lit. “Is there a fun gay bar nearby?”
Ace glanced at me. “Not everyone is queer, Hopkins. We were thinking of heading to Santana Row and checking out the bars there.”
“Yeah? I’ve never been.” What would a gay bar be like with these guys? With my newfound sexuality, it might be quite an experience. I twisted my lips, but what would Ronan think?
“Okay, then we should leave now.” Ace gave me a warm grin.
Back at the hotel, dressed in my suit, minus the tie, I patted Laine on the shoulder while he primped his light brown curls in the mirror in our bathroom. “Hey, I need to make a quick phone call.” We would leave the hotel in fifteen minutes.
“No worries, man.” He smirked at me. “If one of us gets lucky tonight, we’ll have to figure out alternative sleeping arrangements.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” I wouldn’t look for that, though. I hurried to the door, swung it open, and stepped into the hallway. What did Laine think about my sneaky phone calls? So far, he’d remained silent about it.
As I ducked into the stairwell, I called Ronan, my heartbeat picking up speed. Would he still be with Drew?
The phone rang a few times and picked up. “Hey, Evan. I can’t believe you scored that goal.”
“Yeah, well, it happens, given the right circumstances.” Dipping my head, I toed the concrete with my sneaker. “Are you still with Drew?”
“I am. We’ve started working on the new songs.” He sighed. “We’re making good progress, so we may be up late.”
“Yeah, me too.” I worried my lower lip. I had to inform him of the celly. “I’m heading into some bars tonight with the guys to celebrate the win.”
“Oh, you are?” He inhaled. “Don’t you have to be up early for your flight home?”
“Yeah, but I can sleep on the plane. We don’t have another game for a week.
I have time to recover.” When would I see him?
Hell, tomorrow night would work for me. I’d done nothing but think about him the last few days.
I might miss a few morning skates this week to see him, but Coach had said we could pick our schedule, and spending the night with him was worth it. I sat on a step.
“That you do. I suppose you’ll need to rest when you get home,” he said. “Would you like to come over the day after tomorrow?”
Shit, I’d have to wait that long? “Yeah, sure.” A grin crept across my mouth. “Can I stay the night?” Hushed voices filtered through the door. The guys were probably gathering in the hallway.
“Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
Warmth enfolded my heart. I couldn’t pinpoint the reason I wanted this so badly, but I did. “Good. We can complete the details when I get back.” I glanced at the door. Would they come looking for me? “Hey, I think the guys are getting ready to leave. I should go.”
“Okay, but Evan?”
“Yeah?” I held the phone tighter to my ear as if I could hear him better. This sounded important.
“Don’t, uh, well…” He huffed. “Behave, okay? I know you’re celebrating, but—”
Was he asking me to keep it in my pants? That wasn’t what tonight was about. “You don’t have to worry about me, Ronan.” Saying outright that I only wanted him felt excessive at this point in our relationship, even if it were true.
“Okay, have a good time, then.” He chuckled. “But not too good a time.”
I smiled. “Yeah. See you soon, Ronan.” Hell, I wanted to tell him more, but it would have to wait until I could see him in person.
“See you. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I ended the call and dashed up the stairs, two at a time, then popped the door open.
Lucas stood in the hallway with Archer, Ace, and Nolan. “There you are. Who were you calling that you had to hide in the stairwell?” With a wide smirk, he stepped toward me. “Wait, were you calling Ronan?”
Shit, must he say that in front of everyone? Brushing my hand down the back of my hair, I said, “No, it was a girl.” I’d leave it at that.
“Dude, you have a girl you didn’t tell me about?” Nolan lifted his brows.
Now I’d done it. “It’s nothing. It’s not serious.” Except with Ronan, it was fast becoming serious. For me, anyway. Hell, I wouldn’t fool around with just any guy. “Can we go now?”
Ace glanced at his phone, resting in his hand. “Yeah. Some of the other guys are already in the lobby getting Ubers. They want to meet at a place called El Jardin. I guess it’s a fun Mexican place with live music.”
“Okay, lead the way then.” I threw my arm out and then followed them to the elevator. If I were in Ronan’s position, how would I feel about him stepping out into a bar? Heat prickled my chest. Hell, I wouldn’t like it.
Our Uber dropped us off on a bustling street with a canopy of large trees covering it—the center median was wide enough to house the establishment we were headed to.
Rock music spilled out, and a long patio with strings of bulbed lights spanned one side of a long, burnt orange building. People filled the open space.
The evening was cool, but still pleasant with my suit coat. The buildings lining the street resembled updated turn of the century style, with shops and bars tucked into the first floor and what appeared to be residences on the second and third floors.
Scanning the Mexican bar from the crosswalk, I tapped Lucas on the shoulder. “Do you think anyone will recognize us here?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe, but so what? We sign a few autographs and shake some hands.” As the streetlight turned green, he strolled across the street, following the other guys.
“But what if they’re Sharks fans?” Hell, we’d eliminated them from the playoffs tonight. I breathed in deeply. Hopefully, people around here weren’t dicks about hockey, but at least we weren’t wearing any of our team shirts and shit.
I followed Lucas and the guys into the bar, winding through the people sitting at wicker patio chairs and tables.
When we entered the building through wide, open sliding doors, the colorful green and white tiles and the rustic wood inside the place caught me.
The tile covered the floor, extended beneath the stainless-steel bar, and reached the wall where liquor bottles lined the shelves.
Nolan stepped up behind me, planting a hand on my shoulder. “I think we should start with a shot of Patron.”
“Yeah?” There was an open space at the bar, resting along the entire side of the establishment, and we all made a beeline for it.
“Patron sounds great.” Hell, I liked tequila.
I hitched onto a wooden barstool with Nolan on one side of me and Lucas on the other.
“Dude, tequila?” I tapped Lucas’s forearm.
“Hell, yes.” Lucas beamed at me.
My gaze caught on a blonde woman sitting beside a brunette at the end of the bar. A soft, coy grin teased her lips, and the tops of their ample breasts showed over the low neckline of their blouses.
Shit, under normal circumstances, I might pursue her. Not tonight.
Nolan ordered shots of Patron and beers for everyone.
The bartender placed our shots down, then Mason, positioned beside Nolan, raised one. “To the win, boys. I hope we play the Blackhawks next.” He chuckled. “I’ve got a few buddies on that team, and I can’t wait to show them who’s boss.”
“Here, here.” Jett lifted his glass and tapped it on Mason’s.