“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”
“I think they’re killing it, all things considered,” Laramie said. “I’d be on the ground.”
I nodded. “Me too. It’ll probably get better after this season, but it’s gonna take time.”
“Still,” Trews whispered. “I don’t know how they’ve made it this far.”
Laramie and I both nodded, murmuring our agreement.
We headed back down to the basement to rejoin the guys playing pool. Trews continued to stick close, and I didn’t mind. Along with Laramie, we made the rounds through the party. There was the pool table in the basement, kids playing in the backyard, football on in the living room, and people shooting the shit and munching on snacks in the kitchen and family room.
I sucked at pool. I could do all kinds of shit I was ridiculously proud of on ice, but knocking balls around on felt? Yeah, no. Not my forteat all.
The rookie, however, turned out to be quite the pool shark.
“How did youdothat?” Baddy squawked after Trews potted the eight ball. “That’s—is that even possible?”
“Of course it’s possible,” Avery said with a laugh. “If you actually know how to shoot, which he does. You?” He made an exaggeratedly apologetic face and shrugged. “Well…”
“Fuck off, Calds.” Baddy rolled his eyes. “Act like you can get through a game without scratching when you try to sink the eightball.”
Avery scoffed. “That happenedonce.”
“Yeah, last time we all partied and you playedonce.”
Avery flipped him off.
Trews grinned in that way he did when he was about to go full ice gremlin. “You want to play, Calds?”
“Ooh, you’re asking for it now.” Eminem slapped Avery on the back. “Come on, Captain. Put the rookie in his place.”
Avery laughed and shrugged. “You putting money on me?”
Eminem scoffed. “No. Because you’ll lose on purpose just to be a dick.”
“What?” Avery put a hand to his chest. “I would never?—”
A chorus of coughed “bullshit, bullshit,” rose around the room.
Avery huffed. “You know what? You guys are all assholes.” He looked pointedly at Trews. “You sure you want to play me?”
Trews wasbeaming. “Hell, yeah. Let’s do this.”
Watching Avery play pool with Trews was entertaining as all hell, but it was also heartbreaking in a way. Yeah, he was trash-talking like everyone else, laughing at jokes and giving Trews a run for his money on the table.
But there was a pall over him that was impossible to miss. He reminded me of someone trying desperately to have a good time while an injury was too sore to ignore. Even his most full-throated laughs were followed by that subtle deflation, like someone who’d forgotten for a moment or two about the awful spasm in his back or the relentless ache in his knee. The way his expression turned flat, or—when he seemed really sure no one was looking—he let the hurt show through.
That was tough to watch.
I nudged Mix, who was standing beside me, and nodded toward Avery. “Is he okay?”
“Hmm?” Mix peered at Avery. Then he sighed and took a pull from his beer. Speaking just loud enough for me and no one else to hear, he whispered, “He and Early always played pool at team events.”
“Ooh. Fuck.”
Pursing his lips, he nodded, but he didn’t say anything else. I supposed he didn’t need to.
That had to be rough as hell, being reminded at every turn that his best friend was gone. I saw it in him today. I saw it in the locker room and on the ice. Sometimes even during games, when he’d get that distant look in his eyes before shaking himself out of it and refocusing.
