That prompted groans, and a second later, the three of them strode into the locker room.
Instantly, their eyes lit up.
“Calds!” Baddy crossed the room, arms out. “Holy shit, I’ve missed skating with you!”
Avery laughed as he accepted the hug. “Just stay away from my athletic cup, all right?” He slapped Baddy’s back. “You fucking sadist.”
“He’s just happy there’s someone here who skates slower than him,” Eminem declared.
“You know what?” Avery released Baddy and mock-punched Eminem’s shoulder. “Fuckyou.”
“Not my type, Calds,” Eminem said with a snicker even as he stepped in to hug Avery. “Notmy type.”
“Pfft. Whatever. I told you you could top if?—”
“Shut up.”
They laughed and shared a quick embrace, and Avery did the same with Mix. About the time they were finishing up greetings, more footsteps came up the hall, and we were joined by Trews, Laramie, and Marts—Antoine Martel, one of the fourth line forwards.
“Ooh, Laramie’s here!” Mix grinned. “We’ve got a goalie!”
“Aww, damn it.” Baddy huffed. “I wanted to play goalie.”
“Dude, no.” Avery shook his head, and he held his hand up just slightly above his own head. “You must be at least this tall to tend the net.”
That earned him a sneaker tossed at his chest, which he caught. Laughing he tossed it back, and the bantering and chirping continued.
As I put on my base layer, I mostly sat back and watched the interplay, relieved that so many of the guys showed up. More followed, too, including Ziggy, which meant we now hadtwonetminders. By the time I was lacing up my skates, we had enough players for a three-on-three scrimmage with a couple of people rotating in from either bench.
Before long, we were all out on the ice, warming up and firing pucks at the boards and the nets. There wasn’t a coach, ref, or reporter in sight (though we all knew to assume there was a camera on us at all times), so we could relax a little, and we played like we often did when we werewinding down after practice. We goofed off. We committed in egregious but not dangerous penalties, like when Eminem dragged Laramie out of the net by his blocker so his team could score. Or when Mix deliberately upended Baddy into the opposing team’s bench when the puck was miles away from either of them. Or when Trews knocked Marts’s helmet off during a faceoff. Nobody was really keeping score beyond“you tripped me, now I’m going to trip you.”
I didn’t think I’d ever laughed this hard during a practice—well, “practice”—in my entire life.
The best part, though?
Watching Avery laughing his head off. He was skating freely and easily, smiling like I hadn’t seen since I’d come to Pittsburgh.
He wasn’t magically cured or back to who he’d been before losing Leif, but at least for this perfectly chaotic hour on the ice, he seemed truly, genuinelyhappy.
And me? I was lucky I could skate. Yeah, I’d had a crush on him since forever, but seeing him like this reduced me to that hormonal teenager who forgot how to think when he saw an attractive guy. Today, Avery was every bit the man who’d made my heart skip whenever his face had appeared in a promo or when I’d skated opposite him during a game. Flushed with exertion, drenched in sweat, alternately laser-focused and laughing so hard he almost fell off his skates—he was just so… so…
Oh my God, you’re beautiful.
I had to tear my gaze away before I fell off my own damn skates.
Fuck me. I had it so damn bad for this man. Having a crush on him had been one thing. Getting closer to him, seeing him vulnerable, being the one he reached out towhen he hit the wall—he’d become sorealand sohuman, and I was just so ridiculous for him now.
How was I going to stay sane when he made it through rehab and the League reactivated him? When I had to play beside him after he’d risen from his own ashes and made the comeback I knew was inevitable?
I had no idea how I was going to process all that without losing my mind.
I just knew in this moment, as I watched him getting a taste of the life he’d have again after he recovered…
…that I couldn’t fucking wait.
CHAPTER 27
AVERY
