Which means I need to figure out how to win over my soon-to-be ex-wife.
After the game, we get right back on the jet. Some of the guys are playing cards but I wasn’t feeling up for it.
We won and I actually played well. Two goals and an assist. I should be elated. Coach certainly was. My teammates too. It’s a hard thing to watch guys struggle and know there isn’t anything you can do but let them work out their shit. They want me to be on top of my game as much as I do. The trouble is I don’t know why tonight was good. Dumb luck? Star alignment? Hell freezing over?
I didn’t do anything different. In fact, it’s probably the least focused I’ve been on hockey since…ever. I’ve always been able to push away everything else and enjoy the game. It was my haven far before it was my job.
But tonight, my thoughts were on Vegas. Hannah and I dancing, talking, kissing… Which was followed swiftly by the look of relief on her face when I told her I’d file the paperwork to end our marriage.
And that’s to say nothing of the mess with my inheritance. I’m avoiding all thoughts on that like it doesn’t exist. It shouldn’t. Inheritances are dumb. Especially from family you don’t speak to and when they come with ridiculous clauses and stipulations on how to live your life. No, thank you.
Nick plops down in the seat beside me. I jut my chin in greeting. He’s one of the few guys I can count on to let me sit in silence.
I go back to pretending I’m listening to music, my headphones are on as a decoy, and Nick is texting with Ruby. I know this because she’s the only person he could be texting when all his other friends are here. Also, he’s smiling. She’salso the only person that gets that kind of smile out of him. Sigh. Usually their happiness makes me feel all sappy and gooey inside. Tonight, it’s a stark reminder that I’m not cut out for that.
Letting my head fall back against the seat, I close my eyes. I’ve barely slept this week so I should be tired. Instead, my mind spins. I could have cured world hunger or won a Nobel Prize by now if I applied all these Hannah-focused thoughts to something more productive.
Hannah. That hair and those lips. Her mouth really does something for me. So soft and perfect and…Nope. Nope. Nope. Think hockey thoughts. Only sticks and pucks and sweaty guys. And…never mind, it’s useless. Even thinking about sweaty guys makes my thoughts immediately go to sweaty, naked Hannah instead.
I am in hell.
A knock on my door Friday night pulls me from the reality TV show I’ve been binge-watching.
“Just leave it,” I yell to the delivery guy.
The knocking continues, now more insistent.
“Fucking hell.” I get to my feet, annoyed. I specifically noted on the order to leave the pizza at the front door.
Pulling open the door with a little more force than necessary, I’m taken aback when it’s not the pizza delivery. Or at least not the one I was expecting.
D-Low and Shep stand on the doorstep. Shep has my pizza and D-Low a twelve-pack of beer.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, staring at them.
“You look like hell.” D-Low doesn’t wait for an invitation before waltzing past me into the house.
“Yeah, come on in,” I mutter as I step back and wave Shep in too.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” D-Low calls as he sets the beer down on the coffee table.
“Some people might take that as a sign I didn’t want company.”
“You’ve been hiding out and sulking all week. This is an intervention.” D-Low tosses me a beer.
“Should have brought something harder than Modelo.” I twist off the top and shoot it at him between my thumb and middle finger.
“We were worried,” Shep says, softer and kinder, but he has the same concerned look on his face.
“I’m fine. I just didn’t feel like going out tonight.”
“And last night?” D-Low quirks a dark brow. Before I can answer, he adds, “And the night before that?”
I grit my teeth. My shithead friends are too nosey for their own good.
“Aww have you missed me?” I ask sweetly. “Are you two struggling to pick up the ladies without me? Need someone to pay the tab?”
“Cut the shit, Bennett.” D-Low flips open my pizza box and takes a slice. “What the hell is going on with you? You’ve been weird since Vegas.”
