Chapter 5
FIVE
Four months later
I’m standing outside of MVP with my hands shoved into my pockets and a ball cap low over my eyes.
This place is always bustling with people after a game, but tonight was our first weekend home game and the downtown area by the rink is filled with people.
When a group of guys wearing Moonshot jerseys walks past me to go into the bar, I duck my head and sidestep out of the way.
I love this time of year. The nip of cold in the air promises winter is almost here and that hockey season has just begun.
It’s been a good start. We’ve won seven out of the nine games played so far with one of those losses coming down to a shoot-out and the other coinciding with four of our guys being out with a stomach virus.
It’s the rare kind of beginning to a season where things feel like they mesh right away.
Everyone is hopeful, cautiously optimistic, and, of course, absolutely silent about it.
No one wants to jinx it, especially in November.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and read the text.
D-Low
Did you get lost? Where the hell are you?
Me
Almost there.
I let out a sigh and slide my phone back into my pocket.
My hesitation about going inside has nothing to do with how busy the place is or the fact my teammates are waiting inside.
I’ve been back here at least a dozen times since that night and had plenty of good memories here before it.
It shouldn’t be the only memory that stands out, but Whitney somehow cemented herself on a long list of bad dates as the absolute worst.
Unease swirls through my gut as I push into the restaurant and bar.
The noise is almost enough to drown out the barrage of thoughts and images that assault me every time I step foot into this place now, but not quite.
It’s like going back to the scene of a crime.
And in this case the crime is the disaster of my dating life.
My teammates are in our usual spot at the back of the bar. Travis sees me first over the crowd. He lifts a hand and calls out to me, “Shep!”
“Hey,” I say when I reach them.
“Finally.” D-Low hands me a cold bottle of beer. “What took you so long?”
“Media clamoring for a sound clip about that last goal?” Nick Galaxy asks with a smile. I made the winning shot tonight, a buzzer beater that made the fans go wild.
I nod, though it isn’t the entire truth.
The reporters did ask me a lot of questions tonight, though it took less time than my teammates think.
But it’s an easier explanation than admitting that I dragged my feet to walk over because even a game-winning goal can’t block out the regret I feel every time I step foot into MVP.
“Well, let’s play some shuffleboard.” Trav rubs his hands together.
The group moves over to the table. I take a long swig of beer before following.
D-Low hangs back. His brows tug together in concern. “You good?”
“Fine.”
He stares at me like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
Out of all my teammates, Danny knows me the best. I don’t know if it’s because he’s my roommate and therefore we spend more time together or if it’s just him.
He’s a smart guy, observant and curious by nature.
When he doesn’t understand something, he has to figure it out. It’s almost like a compulsion.
I smile a little brighter just for him and that seems to appease him.
As we’re pairing off into teams, Hannah hooks her arm through mine.
“Guess what?” she asks, but then doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I found someone for you.”
She lets out a happy squeal and squeezes my arm like a vise. The guys around us groan.
“Not again,” Galaxy mutters under his breath with a wince. D-Low and Penn are wearing similar expressions. Trav is the only one who looks like he thinks this is great news, and he can’t be trusted because he thinks everything his wife does and says is amazing.
“This girl is perfect for you,” Hannah adds.
“Is this the fourth or fifth time you’ve said that?” Penn asks.
“Hey, now.” Travis glowers a little at the guys. “It isn’t her fault.”
He looks at me then, a little bashful. “I didn’t mean how that sounded.”
“No, you’re right,” I say, because it isn’t her fault or anyone else’s. All the women she’s introduced me to have been great.
“Thank you.” I smile at Hannah. “But I’m not interested in dating right now with the season just getting started and all.”
“Oh.” She looks crestfallen like maybe she thinks she’s failed me. “You’re sure?”
“You’ve been a great wing woman. I appreciate you, but I want to focus on hockey.”
She purses her lip and then lets her mouth fall into a frown. “Not great enough. You’re such a good guy. Any girl would be lucky to date you. You’re nice and sweet and hot—like really, really hot . . .”
My face grows warm. Hannah opens her mouth like she’s about to keep telling me all my best traits, but Travis drapes an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him. “He gets the point, babe.”
“Jealous?” Galaxy smirks at Travis’s possessiveness.
That sets off a chorus of laughter.
“Are we playing shuffleboard or what?” Penn asks. He sounds grumpy, but I’m pretty sure he’s only trying to take the focus off me.
I’m grateful either way because it works, and for a couple hours, I’m able to slide into a comfortable existence, hanging with my friends and teammates after a win. I don’t completely forget about Whitney or my embarrassing dating history, but it’s background noise for a change.
As the night starts to wind down, we move to sit at a table. I’m tired, we all are, but it can take hours sometimes for the adrenaline to settle in my system. Nick and Ruby are the first to leave, then Travis and Hannah say their goodbyes.
“Never thought I’d see the day that Penn was out later than Trav,” D-Low says.
“Yeah, what are you doing out this late?” Travis says, eyeing Penn carefully. “It’s way past your bedtime.”
Penn flips him off and offers no explanation.
“See you guys in the morning.” Travis lifts his chin in a final goodbye, and Hannah waves.
When they’re gone, D-Low looks back and forth between me and Penn. “Another round?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I say.
Penn also shakes his head.
“Suit yourselves.” D-Low pushes back his chair, stands, and heads toward the bar.
Penn finishes off the last of his beer and sets the bottle on the table in front of him. “I should get home too. Looks like you two might be closing the place down.”
I glance over at D-Low. The bartender is setting a shot glass in front of him. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Plans tomorrow night?”
I raise one brow. Penn rarely goes out. Twice in one weekend is unheard of. “You’re going out two nights in a row? What’s the occasion?”
“Not exactly. I thought I’d go watch the Moonshot High School hockey team play their first game.”
My pulse picks up speed and the adrenaline that was just starting to simmer rises again.
I’m staring over at the table where Whitney and I had our date before I’ve realized it.
My jersey hanging on the wall perfectly marks the spot.
God, she’d looked so gorgeous in that yellow dress with her dark hair falling over her shoulders and that wide smile aimed at me.
She tried. She really did. She asked me questions and carried the conversation. And I sat there like a fucking idiot.
“I didn’t know that was this weekend.” I shift in my chair and stare down into my beer.
“Yeah, I ran into Grady a couple weeks back at Home Depot. He says the team is shaping up nicely.”
I nod. “I bet they are.”
They had some talented kids. Eager and excited too.
“Have you talked to her?”
I look up and meet his eyes. I don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. He knows about the date. He didn’t press for details, but I told him it didn’t even last long enough for us to order food. And I’m sure he accurately guessed that it was my fuckup and not anything Whitney did wrong.
I glance away and shake my head. I’m aware of him getting to his feet, but I’m lost again in the memories of Whitney sitting across from me, that stunning smile and hitch in her voice.
She was nervous too, I think, based on the way her sentences ran together and how she tried to fill the silence.
Normal first date sort of jitters, not the kind that has your date leaving because they think you’re giving them the cold shoulder.
“JV game starts at six,” he says only seconds before D-Low returns.
“Are you heading out?” he asks Penn.
“Yeah. I’m old. Time for bed.”
D-Low snorts. “Okay, gramps. Be careful getting home.”
I finally lift my gaze to say goodbye to Penn.
His stare is already on me. “Text me if you want to ride together.”
I dip my chin in thanks.
He leaves and D-Low settles into the chair next to me.
“What was that about?”
“That high school hockey team we helped out with this summer has their first game of the season tomorrow.”
“Aaaah.” He drags out the word, then takes a long pull from his beer, watching me closely. “So?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you going?”
“I’m not sure.”
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, lifting it slowly. “Does your obvious discomfort have anything to do with the hot hockey coach who you went out with on one date and refused to speak about ever again?”
“That . . . I . . . There’s nothing else to say.”
Unlike Penn, D-Low has tried to bring up the date. Not that I’ve given him any more details.
“It couldn’t have gone that badly.”
I chuckle, a real honest laugh that bubbles up in my chest and sounds a little manic. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.”
My fingers wrap around the bottle of beer, and I tip it back only to find it empty.
“What happened?”
He asked that night when I came home and drowned my sorrows in a pint of ice cream. And a dozen more times in the week that followed when I barely left the apartment.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does. You obviously want to go to the game and see her again. So tell me about this date and what went wrong, so I can come up with a plan for you to fix it tomorrow night.”
“There is no plan that is going to convince her to go out with me again.”
D-Low leans forward, elbows on the table, a cocky smirk on his face. “We’ll see about that.”