Chapter 4
Four
Leo
“I’ve seen more sauce on a fucking burrito, Ricky! Let’s fucking go!”
Sighing…because Ricky is the newest in a long line of nicknames that Smitty has been trying out for me.
Why I can’t just be Leo is beyond me.
But Smitty is a force of nature and if there’s anything about hockey that I’ve learned over the years, it’s that nicknames are sacrosanct…and that the more one protests about the absurdity of them, the stronger they stick.
Since I really—fucking really—don’t want to be Ricky for the foreseeable future, I’m pretending I don’t hear it.
Instead, I wind up and let a shot loose, whipping the puck in Smitty’s direction.
The big defenseman has gotten it in his mind that he needs to practice his tipping skills.
Meanwhile, he spends most of his time protecting the net, not trying to score.
But…Smitty does as Smitty does.
So, I’m taking the shots from the point and he’s trying to tip the puck into the net…to varied success.
“I don’t understand this man,” Gray mutters from next to me.
“Tell me about it,” I mutter back.
“Another!” Smitty yells like some ancient Viking demanding more beer.
I sigh and roll my shoulders, start to wind up—
“I got it,” Sawyer says from my other side.
“Thank fuck.” I slide back from the puck, gesture for him to go ahead. My body is not made for copious amounts of slap shots.
I’m all about finesse.
Except when it comes to women.
I eject that thought from my brain and focus on the reason I’m here. To practice. To try new things. To feel the cool air on my face and the sting of my stick vibrating against my palms when Aiden passes me a puck and I catch it sharply on the blade.
And all the while Smitty’s voice booms out, demanding more shots, dishing out more shit.
So, I decide to dish some back.
“Yo, Smitty!” I shout.
“Whatcha want, Ricktastic?”
Christ. That’s even worse than Ricky.
I bite back my shudder, call forth the one thing that can shut the big, bearded defenseman up, and shout across the ice, “Hey, Sawyer!”
He pauses mid-shot. “Yeah?”
“Want to know what I heard about wombats the other day?” I yell it to him, but I’m watching Smitty.
And there it is.
Fear creeping into the big man’s face.
“Yeah!” Sawyer shouts back.
“No!” Smitty cries at the same time.
“Definitely yes,” Aiden chimes in as he stickhandles by me.
“No!” Smitty cries again.
“One hundred fucking percent yes.” Ryan grins as he flicks a puck up into the air and catches it.
“Just shoot the puck, assholes!” Smitty shouts.
Gray grins. “You heard him.”
Aiden smirks…then lets the puck fly.
It sails through the air, almost faster than my eye can track…and smacks Smitty right in the ass.
“Ow, fuckers!” he yells, falling to the ice and clutching his ass cheek.
We all bust up laughing and then because we’re the way we are, we don’t let up. We’re not shooting to hurt, but we’re lofting pucks at him, peppering him as he struggles up to his feet.
Then he’s skating toward us, and we split up, rushing away from him, generally acting like a bunch of idiots playing tag.
Not for long, thankfully.
Because then we’re sprawled out on the ice, panting and laughing and talking more shit.
“Come on, dumbasses,” Aiden says, grunting as he pushes to his skates. “Time to get out of here.”
It doesn’t take long to corral the pucks and push the nets toward the Zamboni door. Then we’re grabbing the rest of our shit and walking down the hall.
“Here.” Gray tosses me a foil-wrapped package and before I even bring it up to my nose, I know it’s banana bread.
My stomach rumbles happily. “Faye’s baking again?”
He shrugs, his mouth curved into a smile. “Anything to procrastinate on her deadline.”
I sink onto the bench and open the packaging, biting off a huge chunk of the loaf. “I’ll enjoy the spoils of her procrastination,” I say through the mouthful.
“Exactly,” Sawyer says, cradling his own loaf like a baby before peeling back the foil and going to town.
Ryan nods in agreement, though he sets his loaf on the bench next to him and starts pulling off his equipment.
Meanwhile, I’m going back for another bite.
The man has seriously impressive self-control…especially when it comes to a certain woman he wants.
Grinning, I turn to Gray. “Beer tonight?”
He nods. “Smitty?”
“Nah, need to get home to my little bird.”
Kailey, his wife, is pregnant, and it was a long road for them to get to that point. So, it’s not a surprise he wants to spend every moment he can with her before the season starts.
It’s also not a surprise when Aiden promises to catch us next time too. His wife, Luna, is pregnant too, and further along. Hell, I think it’s probably almost time for her to pop that kid out.
“Ry?” Gray asks.
“Nah.” He tosses his skates in his bag. “I’m taking Alex to a birthday party so Veronica can have a Girls’ Night.”
Veronica.
His friend.
And the woman with whom he’s constantly demonstrating his impressive self-control.
Her kid—Alex—is great, and he and Ryan are close. Not that his bio dad is a deadbeat or anything. Alex just has an awesome group of people around him, and one of those happens to be Ryan.
“Sawyer?” Gray asks.
He grins. “You know I’m always down for beer.”
“Likely because it will give him an opportunity to pick up another woman,” I joke.
“You know you’re the same way,” he counters.
I was.
Then—
I can’t wait to see you again.
“Don’t you know he has a girlfriend?” Smitty says, extending the girl portion to approximately ten syllables.
“She’s not—” I begin.
“Yeah, yeah,” Aiden says. “It’s not serious. You’re just seeing each other all the time.”
I’m not seeing Shannon—not seriously, anyway.
Regularly? Yeah, I guess.
We’ve fucked a handful of times, and she did mention it was her birthday in a couple of weeks, so I should probably do something about that.
Women tended to get a little tetchy about birthdays.
I make a mental note to figure out a plan then finish getting undressed and hit the showers.
There’s a lot of dick, but as usual, I ignore it. Seeing a bunch of dudes naked comes with the territory, so much so it’s just background noise for me at this point.
For the other guys too, the conversation not pausing as we all towel off and get dressed.
“Hey, Leo,” Aiden calls when Smitty snags his bag and heads for the door. “You never did share that wombat fact with us.”
I grin as Smitty speeds up. “I didn’t, did I?”
He stops, jabs his finger in my direction. “Don’t you dare,” he growls.
“It’s important we discuss these things, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“I’m super interested in biology,” Sawyer quips. “I definitely watch Animal Planet every chance I get.”
Smitty turns his finger in Sawyer’s direction. “Asshole.”
“Me too,” I lie because I like animals, but I don’t give two shits about TV that isn’t sports. “Plus, I don’t think we’ve properly explored the defensive capabilities of wombat asses—”
“La. La. La. La!” Smitty shouts.
“—because did you know they use those juicy wombat booties to—”
Smitty freezes. “Seriously?”
“—crush predators in their burrows—”
He gags. “La. La. La!”
I grin, tap my lips as though thinking deeply. “So, some might say they have Deadly Dump Trucks.”
Gray snorts.
“Or maybe Savage Seats of Doom?” Sawyer asks innocently.
Aiden fails to hide his laughter.
But it’s when Ryan adds, “Biological Butt Hammers?” that we all lose it.
“I hate you all.” Scowling, Smitty sweeps from the room.
We all congratulate each other and the conversation continues as we finish up and then Gray, Sawyer, and I hit the bar for a few beers.
It’s what I wanted.
But even though I try to enjoy myself—much like I’ve been over the last couple of months—I’m not in the room.
Not really.
Instead, I’m back in that sunlit shop.
Watching the smile bleed off Harper’s face.
So, when Gray heads home to his woman and Sawyer finds someone to take him home, I don’t linger.
I go back to my empty house, those same fucking words echoing in my head.
And I know I deserve every bit of guilt that’s sitting so heavily on my chest.
Because—
I can’t wait to see you again.