“Want to do a pitcher of beer?” Bode asks.
“Sure. I’ll get the first round.”
I order our drinks as highlights from tonight’s games play on the screen. Drinks are handed over without any comment as to who he is serving. Thank God, because I don’t want to deal with people tonight.
“Thanks, man.”
Bode takes the glasses and passes them around as I pour.
“You know, we still haven’t cashed in on our bowling win,” Jasper says.
“Does this count?” I ask.
“Fuck, no. We have to do something fun,” he says.
“Glad to know drinks with your boys isn’t fun,” Graham says.
“This is just what I need after that game.” Bode kicks his legs out at the high-top table we’re all crowded around. “I’m ready to get home and sleep in my own bed.”
“Same. I miss Chloe,” I say.
Not that we spend every night together, but I’ve gotten used to seeing her whenever I want. This is the worst part about being a professional hockey player. Being gone for days, sometimes weeks, at a time and only having video calls, the phone, and texts to communicate.
I don’t care if it makes me a sap, but I can’t wait to get home and just hold her in my arms. It’s been a hard few weeks, and she’s the only thing that’s making it worth it.
“One more game,” Jasper says. “I think we can all make it one more game.”
“Are you going to tell us what’s been going on with you?” Noah asks. “Seriously, we tell each other everything.”
“Don’t I know it.” Jasper laughs.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Graham prods.
“Did we really need to know that Dax and Chloe went to a sex club?” He quirks a brow at Noah and Graham.
“Probably not, but hey, it got the ball rolling for them to get together. I’d say we had a big part of that,” Noah says proudly.
“You want to take credit for my relationship?” I sip on my beer. Damn, that really is refreshing after tonight’s game.
“At least some part of it,” Noah reiterates.
“Eh. If you want to, I don’t care,” I say.
“Dax did the hard part.” Bode squeezes my shoulder. “You had a conversation. Like an adult. Something a lot of people don’t know how to do.”
He swings his gaze to Jasper.
“Ugh. Not back to me again,” he whines.
“Then tell us what we want to know,” Bode almost shouts at him. “You’ve been keeping a secret and we want to know.”
A voice from the TV snags our attention. “Next onReally, Man?we have breaking news out of Detroit. Stay tuned for news on Duncan Fletcher with your host Rhino Wellsley.”
An image of Duncan being hauled away in cuffs flashes across the screen.
“Wait, turn that up,” I call out to the bartender.
“Was he in cuffs?” Marcus asks, his jaw dropping.
