“Patty had a hat trick!” Coopers sprays champagne in Wyatt’s direction, and the rookie acts like he’s being murdered.
Coach steps into the locker room, and the volume drops slightly. His eyes find mine across the room, and he gives me a single nod. “That’s the player we signed. More of that.”
He disappears before I can respond, but the words stick with me. Not agreat job,orI’m proud of you, but a reminder of expectations. I wonder if he raised Kendall the same way. Probably. Could explain why she’s not intimidated by me or anyone.
Mason throws an arm around my shoulders. “Three goals, Cross. What flipped the switch out there?”
“Found my rhythm.”
Hunter laughs from his locker. “You were sleepwalking in the first period, and then you turned into an assassin. Seriously.”
Cap catches my eye from across the room and gives me a small nod like he understands something the others don’t. I nod back.
“Bottle servicetonight,” Jacob announces. “Someone has a bet to fulfill.”
“Dammit.” Smiley throws his head back. “I really thought you’d miss that shot.”
“You bet against me with my eyes closed. That’s on you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Where are we going?” Mason asks. “Somewhere Smiley can find love?”
“Hardy har har.”
Hunter snorts. “Last week, you thought the woman you spoke to for five minutes was your soulmate.”
“She hadreallynice eyes! Mesmerizing.”
“Bro, she was wearing colored contacts.”
“Love is love.”
“We should go to Diamond,” Jacob suggests. “Private section, strong drinks.”
“You pick bars for the cocktail menu?” Hunter asks.
“I’m a man of refined taste.”
“You ate gas-station sushi last week.”
“That was rock bottom, and I’ve grown since then.”
I head for the showers without committing to anything. The hot water pounds against my sore muscles, and I look over the damage I got tonight. My shoulder aches from a hit I took in the second period; there’s a bruise forming on my left thigh, and my ribs are tender where a Falcon defenseman caught me with his elbow. Nothing serious, but I’ll feel it tomorrow.
After I dry off, I catch my reflection. I look tired, which makes sense because I haven’t slept well since the first of January. I run a hand through my damp hair and grab my clothes from my locker.
The dark shirt goes on first, then some slacks. I slide a jacket over the top because February in New York is brutal.
Tomorrow is a recovery day, and I need it because my shoulder is already stiff and my legs are heavy. But being alone tonight means thinking, and I’ve done enough of that already.
“You coming or what?” Hunter yells from across the locker room.
“Yeah. I’ll be there,” I say, knowing I need to be surrounded by my friends.
The SUV is warm as we pile in, and Jacob immediately connects his phone to the Bluetooth to play some terrible music that makes Hunter groan.
“This is garbage,” Hunter says.
