A dull throb of guilt pangs in my stomach that I know I have to deal with. "Nah, it'll be all but over by the time I get back. And they would have alreadyscratched me anyway."
She cocks a brow, then glances behind me at my bike. "You wanna get out of here then? Maybe pull over on the side of the road somewhere?"
I nibble my bottom lip. "Fuck yeah, I do." Brooke giggles, and the sound makes it so I almost don't finish my thought.
But I have to.
"But can I take a rain check? I should probably get back so I can talk to the boys after the horn. Explain myself at least for bailing. And for the rest of it."
Sliding her hand past my cheek, she nods. "Sure. How about I meet you at the rink in a few hours, and you can give me a ride? Maybe get a little handsy on the way home."
A growl slips from my throat as I shake my head. "How many times have I told you not to play with me, Mystery Girl?"
She moves so that her mouth is only inches from mine. "Apparently not enough."
I crash my lips to hers before pulling back. "Then it's a good thing we've got nothing but time."
"Thanks for hanging back, guys."
"Yeah, no worries, Cap. Everything okay?" Burnsey asks.
He's sitting with Ward and Petrov on the couch in the lounge, his hair still wet from the shower. I asked the three of them to meet me after they were done getting changed. I have a lot to explain that I don't really want to, but they deserve to hear it all.
"Yeah," I answer. "For the most part. I just wanted to apologize for today. For not being there. And for all the shit that's come with these last couple games." I clear my throat as I search the boys' faces, all of themsterner than I expected. "I figured it was best to start with my A's and my goalie."
"What's been going on, man?" Ward asks.
"Yeah," Brett says. "Talk to us, bud."
I inhale deeply, waiting for Alexei to join in. Instead, he leans back on the couch and crosses his arms.
"Well, it's been a long time coming, but I'm just so done with all of the showman shit. The elaborate celebrations, the risky puck handling, the cocky attitude that no one asked for."
Burns chuckles. "But that's just you, Cap. We know it's not meant to be anything serious."
"Yeah," Ward adds. "As long as you keep the puck down ice, I don't really give a shit how you perform." He smiles nonchalantly and looks at Petrov. Again, my assistant captain doesn't speak.
"I get that," I say. "ButI'mdone with it. It's not me—it never was. I got wrapped up in it all when I was a rookie—the parties, the trips, the girls, the attitude. But I don't want any of it anymore." I sigh as I lean my forearms on my knees. "I just want to play the game I used to fucking love."
Ward nods. Brett shrugs. And Petrov creases his brow just slightly. The three of them speak all at the same time.
"That makes sense."
"You do you then, Cap. No worries."
"So, what changed?"
Petrov's deep voice cuts through the others, his question coming out as a command to answer.
"Before or now?"
He sits up again, placing his hands in his lap. "Both."
NowIsit back, rubbing my chin between my first two fingers. "Before?" I repeat tentatively. "My mom died and..."
My mind goes back to my conversation earlier with my dad. Normally, I would put this all on him—blame him for steering me wrong. But I get it now. Brett was right. We were all just doing the best we could with a grief that no one is ever prepared for.
"And my dad and I both did what we had to do to survive it."
