And with resuming our best-friends-only status.
But can I? Can I really?
“Pierce! Get your head in the game!” Coach Markelson rarely barks at us, but when he does, you better believe we listen.
The problem, though? It’s not the first time he’s said—or shouted—this at me today.
Remembering the manners my nana drilled into me, I give him a nod. “Yes, sir.”
But like a dog with its tail between its legs, I skate over to the crease. Today’s our last practice for tomorrow night’s game. I have twenty-four hours to get my head straight and get back on track.
But all I can think about is Bree and the kiss I keep reliving in my thoughts and my dreams. In seconds, she confirmed what I had suspected for years—we could be good together. Very good. If only she could see that—see me that way.
The clink of the puck hitting the pipes jars me back to the present. Luke comes to a stop in front of the crease, snowing me—his warning shot.
He grunts. “We need to talk.”
“I’m fine,” I growl.
“No, you’re not. After practice. Not an option.” He stares me down like a bull positioning to charge.
He’s not letting this go. I drop my gaze to the blue paint beneath my skates—the place I used to feel centered and connected. “Whatever.”
Jammer skates off, joining the rest of the Big Guns, who keep casting concerned looks my way.
I rip my helmet off, tossing it on the net, then grab my water and douse my face and head. The cold liquid is bracing but doesn’t help clear the tangled thoughts cluttering my brain. I don’t know how to compartmentalize Bree. And this situation with Nana. I still need to call and talk to her about it and discuss other options. There has to be another solution than selling the ranch.
My salary is decent, enough to live on, but I can’t afford to make her current foreman a full-time employee with benefits.He manages two ranches, so I know what the cost would be. The ranch doesn’t bring in enough to cover it either.
Unless we sell some of the horses and cattle, or maybe part of the back property, but that would be a temporary solution.
An unexpected relief washes over me when practice ends. Usually, I’m happier in the rink than in the weight room, but after my performance today, I can’t get off the ice fast enough.
I shed my gear and head off to work with my goalie coach on some new reaction drills for eye-hand coordination—a valid reason to avoid their questioning stares and scrutiny. But procrastination only takes me until the end of the day. Then it’s back to the locker room to shower and clean up. And judging by the unusual silence of my guys, they’re dreading this discussion as much as I am.
As we leave, Coach gives me a wary look, then lifts his chin at Luke, silently communicating who knows what.
If Coach is in on this, it can’t be good. This feels more like an intervention at this point.
When I head to my car, Luke grabs me by the shoulders. “You’re riding with me, Cowboy.”
“What, are you worried I’m a flight risk?” I say with a joking tone, but I can see myself pulling a deke and going home to hide. But they’d follow me and break down my front door.
Luke grunts, then shrugs. “Figured a beer or two might help loosen your tongue.”
I stop. “But we play tomorrow.”
“One beer, then. I’ll drive you back to pick up your car.”
Gritting my jaw, I grind out, “Fine.”
Normally, we hang out at the Turtle Tide, grab drinks and baskets of their hushpuppies, but not the night before a game. So, I’m guessing we’re heading to Steamers, a new place that opened last year that has a full bar, pool tables, and darts.
Luke and I arrive at the same time as the others. Ethan stops at the bar and puts in an order for a pitcher of beer while the rest of us claim a dart room. More like enclosed alcoves than rooms. Kind of like those ax-throwing places with partitioned walls, which give us some privacy.
I stand with my back to the dartboard while the rest make a J-shape formation like we do on the ranch when we’re herding and sorting cattle. Guess that makes me a cow tonight, but I’m not liking it. At all.
Ethan grabs a set of darts and hands them to me as he joins the ranks. “Shoot and start talking, Pierce.”
