“Actually, we could use a few more hands if?—”
“Say no more.” More tapping on his phone. “I’ll get the guys to come help.”
“You will?” It can’t be that easy, right?
Marcus nods. “I mean, Bode will gripe the entire time, but he’ll do it.”
“He will? Just like that?”
“I have some pull as the captain of the team.”
I smile up at him. “Thanks, I guess. That was easier than I thought.”
“If you need anything else, let me know.”
“I appreciate it, Marcus.”
It’s weird saying his name now after it was such a bitter word for me for so long.
“I need to go get the girls,” Marcus says, turning and heading toward the library.
“Right. Well, thanks for this.” I hold up my cup. “And thanks for helping.”
I’m rambling, thanking him so much, but it’s because I’m still nervous around him.
He winks at me. “You got it. Text me the details. That is, if you saved my number.”
“I might have to scroll through my texts to find it again.” I laugh.
More like I never forgot the number, but I don’t need to tell him that.
“I’ll see you at the carnival then.”
“See you then.”
I can’t wait.
Chapter Thirteen
MARCUS
“Our first home game of the season. You ready?” Noah is taping his stick next to me in our locker room.
Bode’s rock music is blaring across the room.
It’s bright in here. The red carpet—to match the team’s colors—is somewhat muted from the overhead lights and years of wear and tear. The Knights logo sits dead center with all of the wooden lockers facing it. There’s a small door with a bank of windows that leads to the coach’s office and the tunnel that takes us onto the ice.
Being in here is like a home away from home.
I’m flipping the puck that I have saved in my locker from my first ever goal. The rubber is worn down over the years, but before every game, I flip it around. Force of habit.
Hockey players are nothing if not superstitious.
“Fucking finally.”
“Are the girls here?” Noah asks.
I shake my head. “Too late for them on a school night. They’re watching at home with my mom.”
