“Oh, fuck you,” he says, lowering his voice but keeping his eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to feed me that bullshit about your dad again. I know how much you hate him. He was an asshole your entire life. I can count on one hand the number of times he was at your games, and we’ve been playing together since fucking middle school, so cut the bullshit.”
“We’ve been working on our relationship,” I say and look back at the stands, where two women wearing shirts with our names written across their tits are pressed against the plexiglass.
When they notice me looking in their direction, the one wearing my name on her shirt smiles, waves around an all-access pass, and points at the tunnel, telling me she'll be waiting for me back there. Nolan notices my distraction and looks over. The woman wearing his name does the same thing. He lifts his stick in greeting, and we turn our backs to them.
Nolan shakes his head. “They never stop.”
“You just waved your stick,” I point out. “That’s a clear invitation.”
“Nah. They won’t have access to me. I already told security not to let any puck bunnies through. I’m not fucking around anymore.”
“How honorable of you,” I say, feeling my lips twitch.
“Look who’s talking.” He shoots me a look. “At least five women were sitting around waiting for you the last time you came to Boston, and you ignored them.”
“I’m not interested.”
It's the same at every city that we spend more than a night in — puck bunnies and parties. It doesn't do anything for me. Or Nolan. The three of us — me, Nolan, and Fitz — have had the same experience with women our entire lives. We smile and they drop their panties. It’s that easy for us. It’s probably the reason we’re sick of it.
“No luck here either?” he asks after a moment.
“Nope.” I skate to the nearby puck. We start passing to each other as we talk and skate around the rink.
All of my teammates know about Lyla. It’s hard to keep a secret like that, when you don’t show up at parties and look for the same person in every city you play in. It was annoying initially when they gave me shit about it, but when they realized I was serious, they started keeping an eye out for her. Fitz and Nolan know, because during last year’s All-Star game, we drank too fucking much one night and talked about everything. At this point, I might as well wear a shirt with her picture on it.
Nolan’s dry laugh pulls me from my thoughts. “Leave it to us to fall for the most infuriating, impossible fucking women on the planet.”
“At least you know where yours is.”
His responding laugh is short and bitter. “Trust me, that’s a different kind of hell.”
“I’m sure it is, but it only took you a few months to find her.” I stop the puck and skate with it a little further, passing it from another angle.
“Look at the fucking circumstances.” He stops the puck and smiles, nodding a greeting to whoever’s skating behind me.
I see Fitz skating toward us, distractedly looking at the stands. When he reaches us, he stops and keeps looking around.
“Who are you looking for, fucker?” I ask, even though I know damn well.
He shoots me a look. “Mae’s supposed to be here by now.”
“Maybe she’s hanging out with the other wives,” Nolan says, skating a little further away to pass the puck again.
He passes it to Logan, who lets it slide by, since his eyes are still on the stands. I see the puck bunnies again. There are six of them now. They’re all looking at us, but they don’t try to get our attention, which is odd.
“Puck bunnies don’t even waste their time on him anymore, since they know they’ll get rejected,” Nolan says, answering the question in my head, as he brings the puck back.
“I bet they had a pity party about it,” I say.
“Who the fuck cares? He’s a lucky motherfucker,” Nolan says. “Even I’d beat his ass if he fucked around on Mae.”
Fitz narrows his eyes over his shoulder as he sets the phone to his ear, probably calling Mae as we speak.
“I don’t think Fitz would ever be that stupid,” I say, looking at the side of his face. “I’d beat his ass with you, and then I’d make my move and try to get Mae.”
“You wanna fight, Duke? Is that what this is?” Fitz turns to me immediately, expression threatening. I laugh. He doesn’t. He skates closer to me, but before he can say anything else, he softens his voice as he speaks into the phone. “Hey, where are you?”.
“Everything good?” I ask when he hangs up the phone.
