“Team,” Mercer barks. “Today we’re focusing on transition play. The Bruins’ defense ate our lunch on counterattacks last season.”
I nod, remembering how those fuckers shut down our offense last time. A three-two loss. Should have been different. It was our first season without Jay and like they say: never change a winning routine. But since his brutal injury we were forced to change and to be honest, we’re still not back to where we should be. But that’s our job. One day we thrive, the next we could end up in a hospital bed.
“King,” Jay says. “I want you centering the first line with Huntington and Thompson for the power play drills.”
“Yes,” I say. No need for extra words.
It’s still odd to share the line with Thompson. Usually Riley, Jay and I were the Holy Trinity. Now we’re a shit line up… that’swhy our coaches focus on us, because we’re the weak point these days.
We break into lines and begin the drills. My skates dig into the ice as I accelerate, taking the pass from Riley and driving toward the goal. The movement is instinctual—the weight of the stick in my hands, the slight adjustment of my shoulders to sell a fake shot before sliding the puck to Thompson on my left. For the next forty-five minutes, we run drill after drill and my lungs burn—but it’s a good kind of pain. Clean. Simple. Just Hockey. Usually, my mind is filled with anxious thoughts, like whether Livy is okay with Mira. But this time, I know she’s in school and that I can pick her up after training. Today, I can just focus on playing. It feels so freaking good.
During a water break, Riley skates up beside me at the bench.
He squirts water into his mouth and some of it drips onto his already soaked training jersey.
“So,” he says with that smirk that makes him a TikTok favorite. “How’s your pretty wife?”
“Good,” I say. And just like that, my foolish mind wanders back that cute face she made when she saw my dick. To that opened, plush mouth—okay, seriously, how desperate can a guy get?
“That’s it?” Riley says. “One word? I know talking isn’t your hobby but come on.” He shakes his head.
“What do you want? A novel?”
“No, but what’s it like living with her? Is it weird? Do you guys talk at all? How Is Livy reacting to all of it? Do you guys get along? Does your apartment feel too small? First few days with Liora, I wanted to kill her.”
This guy talks way too much.
He grins as if he remembers something specific. But I know for a fact he did not want to kill her. He had the hots for her from the start.
It was different with Jenna and me.
We started badly. Really badly. But now… having her around all the time isn’t annoying. It’s easy. Too easy. She fits into my life in a way that feels… natural. Like something that was missing quietly slid into place.
Which is terrifying.
Obviously, I do not say any of that.
“You’re annoying.” I sigh, giving in. “We live together. We coordinate things. That’s it.”
Riley snorts so hard he almost drops his stick. “You are the least convincing man alive.”
“I’m not trying to convince you. You asked. I answered.”
“I genuinely can’t picture you living with a woman, you know,” he says. “Do you just grunt at her in the morning and she grunts back?”
“No.”
“Do you nod once from across the kitchen like a Victorian husband?”
“No.”
“Do you stand silently in doorways until she notices you?”
I look at him. “Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“A lot,” he replies with the kind of confidence that only he can pull off. “But more importantly, what’s wrong withyou? One day I’m gonna put cameras in your apartment. I need to study how you function around women. I’m dying of curiosity.”
“Die faster.”
