“I’ll bet,” I say out loud instead of in my head. Rather than taking it back, I double down. “The other New York team is a dumpster fire.”
“No shit.” He flushes, showing my comment got to him despite his nonchalance.
“We’re happy to have you,” Grayson says to him. “With Kenney out for at least half the season we need great defenders.”
“What do you know?” I say under my breath, but Ace hears me.
“What did you say?” Ace’s voice is hard as nails.
“What does the team trainer know about our defense?” I reply, unwilling to retract my statement.
Grayson puts a hand on Ace’s arm, but he ignores it.
“If you had done your homework on this team, you’d know Grayson was drafted and slated to play in the NHL, but he suffered a career-ending knee injury.”
“Hmm.” I barely manage not to roll my eyes.
“Careful, O’Keefe. He’s in charge of patching you up. At least he’s a team player.” Brant throws his napkin on the table and walks away.
“I never get hurt,” I brag. Everyone is so fucking sensitive. Even if he played in the NHL, he doesn’t know me or shit about this defense.
“Oh, shit.” Mav lifts the tablecloth. “Knock on wood, dude. You’re asking for a disaster.”
I eat faster so I can leave.
I’m so focused on my food, I don’t notice King behind me until he clears his throat.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful.
“My mom would like to talk to you for a minute.” He scratches his forearm, leaving white marks.
My heart roars in my ears, beating way too fast.
“Hell no.” I stand and rush to the exit.
Of all the fucked-up things. Would she apologize to me? Sorry is so far past due. Or worse, would she make excuses for herself? For her son?
I don’t need this shit in my life.
Chapter 5
Jamal King
The travel is low-key my least favorite part of being a hockey player. It’s our last preseason game, and we’re in Toronto. It’s so close, but being in another country is a pain in the ass. As we board the bus to the arena, Brant saunters up.
We’ve become unofficial travel buddies. Which helps me to not overthink who I’ll be sitting with or what we’ll talk about. It’s never been a problem, but my brain acts like I’ll be left on the side of the road.
“Grayson wants to show me some film of how I’m overstressing my ankles.” He rolls his eyes. “Sit with Maverick.”
I swallow hard and breathe in slowly. “It’s fine.”
Brant’s face pinches together and he leans in. “He’s the only one who doesn’t know anyone. He could use a friend.”
Embarrassment rushes through me, tangling with my stress and confusing me. Brant isn’t babying me; he’s looking out for Mav. I should be looking out for him too, instead I’m concerned about myself.
“No problem.” I crane my neck, searching for him, and Brant’s shoulders sag in relief.
My mind goes into overdrive. I mentally catalog all the facts for topics to talk about.
