The guy faced the tank and had his sleeves rolled past his elbows, forearms corded as he adjusted something near the filter intake. Brown hair. Broad shoulders.
When he shifted his angle slightly, his profile was sharp in the glow from the tank. Clean-shaven. Solid bone structure.
He straightened and wiped his hands on a bar rag. Turned enough that the light hit him full-on.
I inhaled sharply.
Mathers.
It was Kieran Mathers, my Ironhawks teammate.
He was the picture of composure in the locker room, shoulders back and every word measured. Never missed a play. He was a player coaches describe asmature beyond his years, which always sounded to me like a polite way of saying he'd never been young.
Here in the bar with sleeves rolled up while testing the pH balance, he didn't fit the picture I knew. This Kieran looked like an ordinary guy.
I stopped staring. Took a pull of my beer.
When I glanced back, Kieran was closing the panels. The bar owner clapped his shoulder and said something that made Kieran laugh.
He looked easy here, unguarded and relaxed. I'd never seen that in the locker room.
I watched him wash his hands at the bar sink. He checked the tank once more, a quick scan. He said something I couldn't hear. Was it to the fish?
Kieran turned and looked straight at me as I held my bottle in the air, caught out of position.
A slight smile. Recognition.
He said something to the bar owner and then moved toward me. Slowly walking across the room with no wasted steps.
He stopped two stools down.
"Donnelly."
"Mathers." My voice came out level. Small miracle.
"Didn't think I'd see anyone from the team tonight."
"Yeah. Same."
He glanced at my bottle, then back at my face. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Something like that."
"Opening night?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Only because I've been awake since four." He admitted it as if he were talking about the weather. No shame.
I tipped my head. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." He flagged the bartender and gestured for water. When it came, he drank half in one pull. "Figured if I'm awake, I should at least accomplish something."
Looking past him at the tank, I asked, "You do this often? Fix aquariums at midnight?"
"When they need it." He moved to the next stool, closing the distance between us, one elbow on the bar. "Owner called yesterday. Filtration was cycling wrong. Didn't want to wait."
"And you just came?"
