August took his gear off and worked through his cool-down routine, thoughts of the man in the crowd lingering all the way to the showers. Others joined him, chattering loudly about their lives and their plans after practice, distracting him until the stranger faded from his mind.
They were going up against Calgary next, which was exciting for most of his teammates, but August was indifferent. He didn’t have anything to add to the conversation because he didn’t care about the next game, so he kept his mouth shut and got ready to leave.
No one looked or called out to him as he re-entered the locker room and began dressing, thankfully in his casual clothes since it had only been a practice day and not a game.
Out of curiosity, he took longer than necessary, wondering if someone would offer to hang out, but no one said anything. Niko was theonly one who made eye contact, only to quickly look away and answer whatever question Callahan had asked him.
August gave up and left the locker room, not bothering to say goodbye. He didn’t want to get angry at others or himself, so it was better for everyone if he just left. He could stop and get greasy takeout, go home, and watch shitty TV until he passed out on his couch.
He was turning the corner when he crashed into someone. August barely swayed from the force of it, but the person he hit gasped loudly and lost their balance, taking several steps back.
August was about to apologize until he realized it was the same man from the crowd—the one who had been blushing and avoiding his gaze.
“How did you get back here?” August asked, way harsher than he meant to.
The man’s eyes widened, and he scurried away, avoiding August as if he might kill him.
Sighing, August continued toward the exit, stopping to let security know that there was a fan wandering the chute.
Chapter 4
Quinn
Quinn gripped the steering wheel while he watched the Bigfoot players spill out of the arena into the parkade. Snow had left ten minutes before the rest of his team, so there was no chance of seeing him again, but his nerves were frayed.
Why had he agreed to watch Eren practice today, especially once he knew August of all people was on his team?
Curiosity mostly, but also…
Eren opened the car door and fell into the passenger seat. He waited until the door was shut and he and Quinn were in total silence before he inhaled deeply, then exhaled.
“How was today?” Quinn asked, trying not to pry, but wanting to make sure he was okay.
Eren tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. If Quinn were a less observant person, he wouldn’t have noticed the moisture gathering along his lashes.
“It was acceptable performance-wise, and exhausting physically.” Eren’s eyelids slowly slid open, and he turned his head so they could look at each other. “I feel like I’m fucking up, Quinn. The team played so well in the playoffs, but now everything is fucked up, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I think I need to step down—”
“No.” Quinn tightened his hold on the steering wheel until his fingers began tingling and his knuckles turned white. “You’re not quitting, Callahan. Esme wouldn’t want you to walk away from a dream you’ve been fighting for. Not like this.”
In Quinn’s opinion, there was nothing more devastating than seeing a strong man cry. So, when Eren’s bottom lip began to quiver, and his breathing turned harsh, tears sprang into Quinn’s eyes, blurring his vision.
“I wanted to bring the cup home for her,” Eren said, his voice shaking. “She was so sick, but she made it to that last game, and she wasgood. It was like the cancer didn’t even exist. Esme was sitting right behindme on the bench, cheering louder than anyone in the building, even though she’d had a chemo treatment the day before.”
The loss had been devastating. Quinn had felt it from his apartment, sitting on his couch alone while he watched TV and received live updates from his sister.
People often spoke of twins and their supernatural connections, and Quinn had always thought it was stupid. But that night, when the Toronto team had shot the winning puck and earned themselves the Stanley Cup, something in his chest had cracked open.
Pain—his sister’s pain. He felt it in that moment, how heartbroken she was for Eren that he had lost the cup, and the knowledge that he was about to lose everything.
Esme took a turn for the worse a few weeks later, and then she was gone. Quinn could barely function after, but his stubborn, determined brother-in-law had gone to training camp in September with a fire lit inside him.
When Eren walked through the door after his first day, Quinn had made sure the girls were distracted in their room while their father broke down in the entryway.
The sobbing and screaming would be etched into his memories for the rest of his life. Quinn had never heard someone make a sound like that—the visceral wail of grief in audible form.
Quinn had held onto Eren, if only to anchor him, silently promising Esme that he would be there for Eren and his nieces from that point on. Whatever they needed from him, he would provide it, even if it was something as stupid as watching a practice game like Esme had done a thousand times before him.
Quinn had always liked Eren. He had been the perfect match for his sister, who had always felt so untouchable when it came to love. That’s why Quinn felt so fiercely protective of him, because Eren was important to Esme, and he felt like it was his job to watch over him.
