I laugh. “I don’t think you can take Jose to the convent.”
“Fuck you,” she says with a genuine laugh. “Just for that, I’m leaving him to you in my will.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Gross.”
“Promise me something,” she says, her voice going soft again.
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll have fun this weekend. With the guys and…” There’s a heavy pause before she adds, “Hudson. He could use a friend.”
The way she says his name is full of guilt and concern. It makes me pay attention.
“Is everything—”
“I gotta go,” she says. “I have someone coming to the table.”
I hear the click, and sigh, shutting off my phone screen.
I slide it into my back pocket and take a final look in the mirror. My hair looks like shit, but I don’t have any more time to fuss with it, so I get my shit together and head for the subway. The entire way to the Madison Square Garden, my heart beats like a fucking drum. My stomach flips, and I am seriously reconsidering the cup of coffee I had this morning.
I’m the first one to the arena to pick up the tickets, but Mack shows up five minutes after me.
“Mackenzie!” I can’t help but smile wide as I move to give him a hug as he grunts out a “Hey.”
I give him a good look over, noting he’s wearing Alex’s jersey, but I guess that’s not surprising considering I heard he helped rehab him while he was out on injury last year. I caught the story on ESPN during one of my late hotel nights.
Andre and Paul arrive next, together, and we spend the next couple minutes catching up before Mack reminds us we need to get to our seats.
I look past Andre at the doors.
“Should we wait for Hudson?”
Paul shrugs. “He said he was leaving this morning, but I haven’t heard from him.”
“Should someone text him?” Andre asks.
Mack shrugs.
“We can text him from our seats.” I don’t miss Mack’s nervous tone. Maybe I’m not the only guy anxious about this meet-up. That makes me feel slightly better.
I shove it down and nod, letting Mack lead the way. Andre and Paul hang back, chatting amongst themselves. Mack doesn’t say much, and neither do I. It doesn’t take long to find our seats, and I make a mental note to thank Alex because we are behind the fucking glass, which is awesome. The guys are already out on the ice doing warm ups.
I debate texting the group chat, but at the last minute text Hudson privately, so the guys won’t be distracted during the game if he texts back.
Trey
At our seats. Text when you get here and I’ll meet you with your ticket.
I don’t expect a text back immediately, but that’s what I get.
Hudson
Stuck in traffic.
Not sure I’m going to make the game.
Trey
