18 - Sage #2
Aiden’s hand hooked into my arm, stopping my speedy getaway in its tracks. “Come on. Just one beer.”
“Sage…” Landon stretched his arms out along the plush faux leather booth and tested my name a few more times. “What are you to Aiden, Sage?”
“And how much is he paying you to be it?”
“On his bench pay check? Probably not much.”
Laughter erupted and I stared at Aiden.
“No thanks. We’ll catch up another time.”
But Aiden blocked my path again, his gaze pleading with me.
“Hey, can you guys quit being grade-A dicks for one night?” Grayson quieted them down. “Also, as of today, Aiden Santos’s ass is officially no longer made of wood. So no more of that talk.”
Tucker drummed the table, and they all lifted their beers to Aiden. I’d been dead-set on walking out on this chaotic celebration, but seeing the look on his face flipped something in me. That stupid, sheepish smile. He was so goddamn proud of himself.
“Fine. One beer.”
It wasn’t good enough for me to join. Tucker and Landon slid out of the booth so Aiden and me could get in, leaving us sandwiched by Surge players.
That in itself wasn’t so bad; I’d learned to hold my own in a room full of men.
The staring was the thing that set me on edge.
My tongue fiddled with the back of the labret on the inside of my lip.
Aiden nudged his shoulder against mine once we were wedged into the booth, his leg pressed along the length of mine under the table. “It’s official. I’m first line center.”
The words landed between us and I caught the way he held them there, as if he wasn’t sure how hard he was allowed to believe them yet.
I curved my mouth into something that passed for excitement. “That’s great, Aiden. Congratulations.”
“Just until Mason heals up, of course.” He said it quick, like he needed it out there as a reminder to keep his own excitement in check.
Landon gave a dry laugh. “He’s out for the rest of the season. You can count on it.”
Aiden didn’t answer that. He tipped the pitcher, first filling his own glass, then mine. His focus stayed on the stream of beer, watching the foam settle in a thick blanket.
“Well,” he said, sliding my drink over, “either way, it’s my first time starting.”
I picked up the glass. It was cold enough to sting my fingers. “Then we should probably mark the occasion.”
He tapped his glass against mine, a quiet clink that got swallowed almost immediately.
“Damn right you should,” Tucker cut in. “First shift, you keep it simple. No hero plays. You hear me?”
“Speak for yourself,” Landon shot back. “He should go out there and make a statement. First touch, take it straight to the net.”
“Yeah, and get stapled to the boards in the first thirty seconds. Great advice.”
Grayson pointed at Aiden with two fingers, holding his attention. “Coach doesn’t care how pretty it looks. He cares that you don’t screw up your assignments. You keep your lane, you’re golden.”
“And when he’s in a bad mood, stay out of his way,” Cash added.
“Which is all the time.” Landon grinned into his glass as he said it, but I didn’t hear any of the others say he was wrong.
That set them off again. Everyone talking over each other, tossing in their version of how this was going to go. The rest of the season, the Cup run, all of it.
Aiden took it in with a small smile, nodding here and there, letting them have it. He didn’t interrupt or try to claim the moment. Just sat there beside me, listening, holding onto it in his own way.
I kept my eyes on him more than anything else. On the way his fingers tightened around the glass. On the way his shoulders stayed a little too still, like he was bracing for someone to take it all back.
Something clenched in my gut. I’d seen this before. Different room. Different table. Same look.
My dad at the kitchen counter, talking big about the next game that was going to be his break. My brother after him, that sparkle in his eye that grew dimmer and dimmer until he blew out his knee, and it was gone for good.
Both of them chasing something that never stayed long enough to hold onto.
The table in front of me blurred into the one from my childhood kitchen, pitchers swapped for cheap whiskey, Surge jerseys traded for stained and faded club shirts.
I took a sip of my beer just to give my hands something to do.
“Hey, Sage.” Landon tipped his head toward me. His lids had taken on the heaviness of that last drink. “You ready to become a full-time hockey wife?”
“Shut up.” Aiden reached behind me to slap him upside the head.
“Don’t scare her off,” Tucker said. “She just got here.”
“She looks like she can handle it,” Cash quipped, and lifted his half-finished beer to me. I saluted him and took a big sip, forcing a small smile that didn’t really stick anywhere.
“Ignore them.” Aiden’s knee pressed into mine under the table, a subtle check-in. I shifted just enough to answer it without looking at him.
On stage, Ramona announced the band’s break. Instruments went quiet, leaving the room louder somehow. Every conversation rushed in to fill the gap.
That was my out.
I set my glass down. “I’ll be right back.”
Tucker and Landon had to shift out of the booth to let me through, grumbling at each other as they stood. I slid past them, one hand on the edge of the table to steady myself as my shoes stuck to the floor.
Aiden caught my wrist before I could step away completely. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I pulled my hand free, keeping it casual. “Just need the bathroom. Wanna come with?”
The reaction was instant.
“Oh, he’s in.”
“Don’t even hesitate, man. That’s an invitation.”
“Bathroom date on his first night as first line center. Respect.”
Aiden’s face went red, fast. He swatted Landon’s extended high-five out of his face. “I’m not— I’ll wait.”
“Sure you will.”
“Take your time,” Tucker called after me. “We’ll keep him entertained.”
I didn’t look back as I stepped away from the booth, their laughter chasing me across the bar.
I cut through the bar before I could think better of it, slipping between bodies and half-finished conversations, heading straight for the stage where Ramona was picking her way down the side steps. I hooked my arm through hers before she could protest.
“One wrong move on these platforms and I’m finishing our set in the ER,” she warned, gripping my forearm.
“I don’t care,” I muttered and tugged her along anyway, weaving us through the crowd until we hit a shadowed corner at the far end of the room. Far enough from Aiden and his teammates that I could almost pretend they didn’t exist.
Ramona paused and finally noticed the tension in my face. “What did loverboy do? Do you want me to go over there and kick his ass?”
“Maybe later.” I shook my head, jerking it fast enough to make her flinch. “For now, I need you to tell me I’m not losing my mind.”
She frowned. “What?”
“You were right, okay?” I said with a marked sigh. “There. I said it. He’s everything I’ve sworn against my whole life. First team golden boy. Surrounded by more of the same. And it’s only a matter of time before—”
“Slow down,” she cut in. “First, you’re not losing your mind. You just got swindled by the Hot Athlete Effect. Happens to the best of us.”
I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “Ramona, this is serious.”
She slipped an arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the bar, where the rest of the band had already lined up tequila shots. “Second, the only way to overcome this common affliction is with the world’s oldest cure.”
A loaded shot got thrust into my hand. I hesitated, but the look she gave me left no room to back out.
We clinked glasses, tipped them back together, and I winced as the burn spread down my throat.
The edges of my mind softened like clockwork, but one glance at Aiden across the room made my heart catch anyway.
“I can’t end up like my mother.”
“Then don’t,” Ramona said, sliding another shot into my hand.
By the fourth one, the warmth had loosened the fog around Aiden. I could think clearly enough to know what I had to do.
“Just walk away,” I said, words dragging across the edge of slur.
“Walk away,” Ramona repeated.
I squinted at her, seeing almost a second Ramona beside the first. “How are you going to finish your set?”
She snickered. “I’m a professional, Sage. I do my best work when I’m out of my mind.”
Then Aiden unexpectedly appeared at my side, and everything I thought I’d settled spun into chaos. Maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was him, but he looked hotter than he had minutes ago, cheeks flushed from beer, posture steady.
“Can you give me a lift home?” he asked. “The guys are still partying, but I’m done. I need my bed.”
The suggestion in his tone made me trip over my words like an idiot. Thankfully, Ramona was still here and she’d heard everything.
“No can do, loverboy,” she said, waving him away. “Sage came with the band, and there’s no more room in our van. Sorry.”
Aiden’s eyes flicked to me, waiting for confirmation. I nodded, stumbling a little. Ramona caught my arm to steady me.
“What she said,” I hiccupped. “No can do, loverboy.”
He left us with a stiff nod, and went back to his table of loud hockey boys. Guilt twisted my gut as I sagged against Ramona.
“You did the right thing,” she said, giving my arm an encouraging squeeze.