“You talkin’ shit about her?” He folds his arms unhappily across his Dalvegan jacket bearing chest. “Why?” Confusion cakes itself in place. “Wait.How?” Crinkles to his forehead prompt me to nervously swallow. “Howdo you know anything about her?”
Panic pierces my gaze along with Bronny’s.
“She is the teeth doc, Coach,” Frosky swiftly inserts for us. “Bronskie went to get his done pre-school.”
“He’s a bitoldfor preschool, Groffee,” Coach playfully goads. “Have you tried enrolling him in grade school?”
Nervous laughter is hard to hide.
But I still try.
“Isn’t that where you should be now?” Blanc precedes to investigate. “Not here? Talkin’ shit about the woman who’s giving you panty dropping gibs instead of letting you end up toothless like Looft?”
“We uh…” my bag gets a small adjustment, “we moved Bronny here from Middlebrook to live with me. I got guardianship.” Coach’s eyes cut over, encouraging me to keep talking, “Better schools. Better um…attention. More attention? More role models?”
“You’re not talking about Frosky, right?” Coach teases on a small chortle.
“Highstick to the face?” Snowman lets his head fall to one side. “Honestly?”
“I’d have his hide in school right now if there hadn’t been a small fuck up in his paperwork.”
“Which means you’re here for pracky,” he warmly concludes. “Got blades?”
Bronny quickly shakes his head.
“Swing by Bricks’ office. Let him hook you up. He’s got spares – likely unclaimed from last season.” Another kind grin is flashed. “You can join us on the ice. You know. Since it’s nothing ‘official’, aye?”
“Correct,” Frosky spews before I can. “This is nothingofficial, so may I ask whyyouare here?”
Thank fuck one of us is using the squishy thing inside their head for more than just music.
“Budgeting meeting got postponed,” he informs on an innocent shrug. “Figured I’d come hang out with you boys. Fuck around.” His eyebrows waggle. “Have a little more fun than we can during reg.”
That was our thought process too.
Except it ain’t mine anymore.
Now, I gotta worry about makin’ sure no one says anything that gives away anything before Gilly and me get the chance to tell him.
Fuck. Me.
It’s probably gonna be my little bro that lets the shit slip.
Like a Freudian fuck you or somethin’.
Blanc walks with us to the locker room preventing the conversation from resuming anything we were previously talking about; however, Bronny’s bitching about wanting more drive time actually comes in handy.
The buffer prevents anyone from letting Gilly’s name join the conversation again as well as acts as ideal segue for me to escort him to grab spare skates from the equipment management office.
Once we’re laced up with 3Ps in our possession – Bronny with one Snowman lets him borrow and me my favorite pracky stick – and put on light gear, we join the group in the rink, not surprised to find almost the entire roster ready to play.
That’s how it goes with this team.
We’re together in this shit.
Whether we’re in the barn or out of it.
Kinda one of the reasons I have hope that no one will blow the whole me bangin’ the coach’s sister thing before it’s time to reveal it.
