“Oh, hell no.” I push to my feet and hope my knees don’t buckle in the few seconds it will take me to get to the locker room. “You called Noah?”
I push past the guys to escape to the locker room but come face-to-face with Rooks. Without hesitating, I stride forward and lay a solid punch to his gut. Granted, it’s mostly muscle, but he still folds with a grunt. I let the sound ground me for a split second before heading to my stall to strip my skates and top layer. If I stay near him right now, my fist is likely to connect with his face. Our PR team would have a field day explaining that one.
Even still, Rooks follows me. “Si—”
“Get out of my sight if you know what’s good for you,” I growl without looking up.
He snorts. “Clearly, I don’t know what’s good for me, because I put up with your surly ass on a daily basis.” He turns to Thorn and briefs him in on whatever is happening in the film room.
I dump the rest of my gear and head for the showers. At this point, it’s pretty clear the guys aren’t going to let me off the hook for whatever bullshit they’ve concocted. A few minutes under the hot, heavy spray help me pull myself together, letting logic slowly sink back in.
I’m a communicator. I always have been. I’m good with words, with reading a situation, figuring out how best to approach it, and making sure people know what I feel and why when it matters.
Except somewhere along the way, I stopped communicating entirely. Ever since Aubrey became my responsibility, the rest of it fell away. Late-night chill sessions with the guys. Grabbing a drink or a meal with the team, Tuesday nights notwithstanding.Thorn and Rooks keep prying for details. Noah straight-up asked, then showed up.
And as for my captain responsibilities? Forget it. I’m pretty sure Rooks has been handling any team issues for weeks now, because clearly, I don’t know my stick from my skate.
And now, Noah is here again. He is a caretaker like me, sure, but he works as an elevator mechanic in Atlanta. The guy doesn’t take time off work unless Jett needs him. And yet, this is the second time in a week that he has come without hesitation.
I curse under the water as my hands rake through my hair. Cutting off the steady stream of water, I ask myself what I am doing. Something has to change. Wasn’t I just moments ago telling my coach I was ready to quit?
I dry off and pull on some gym shorts, an old hockey shirt, and my slides. Instead of sneaking out the back door like I want to—Rooker probably locked it anyway—I head back to the locker room. It’s time to face the music, or in this case, three oversized teddy bears.
Well, Noah isn’t quite that tall, but his presence fills a room.
Three sets of eyes zero in on me as I step into the locker room, scratching the back of my head and avoiding eye contact as I make myself admit it.
“I know I need help managing everything. Contrary to popular belief, I am fully aware that I can’t do this on my own and should have accepted help sooner.”
Noah is first to react. “I didn’t tell Oakley anything except that Hannah wanted an extra set of hands to keep Aubrey busy today.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as his shoulders shrug up. “It’s still your call. We can pretend that’s all it is.”
“She left pissed at me almost a week ago and hasn’t talked to me since,” I admit.
He nods but ignores it as if it’s no big deal. “We can dog-pile you about why this lone-wolf routine sucks, or you and I cantalk. You’re on a plane in two days. You need a game plan. Let us help,” Noah says. When I open my mouth to protest, he shakes his head. Just once. “You get on a plane in two days to kick off the season. You need a game plan. Let us help.”
Thorn and Rooks clear out as I concede.
“The lounge down the hall should be empty,” I say as I walk past my friend.
As we settle into the game chairs, I tip my head back, eyes closing. “I honestly don’t know what to say, Noah.” Pushing forward to let my arms drop onto my thighs, I sigh as I finally look at him, a thousand thoughts warring with each other.
“Then don’t say anything. Just listen.” He leans forward, mirroring my posture. “How are you handling Oakley being back home?”
The question is so far off what I expected that the expression on my face must be shocked. I tilt my head, knowing there is a quizzical look on my face. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t. I know you’re still in love with her. And I know whatever happened back then was complicated, but if it had been your doing, she wouldn’t still be your loudest fan.”
“Heh. I should have known that’s why you didn’t hate me when she left.”
His brown eyes stare into mine, gaze never wavering. “You are a stand-up guy, Silas. And exactly who I’d pick for my sister if I had the ability to make that choice for her.”
“Yeah, well, I am far from her favorite person. Things got a little heated—”
“I said you were right for Oakley. Not that I wanted to know details.”
I roll my eyes as he shudders at whatever image just flashed through his head. “I said something and she took it the wrong way. She stormed out. Aubs was asleep, so I couldn’t go afterher.” I lift a hand before he can interrupt. “Called Rooks. He picked her up and drove her home.”
“She said your guy is helping her prep for surgery.”
