Good thing I know what to say. “It’s none of?—”
“Remy?” Riggs supplies nonchalantly as he taps his stick on the floor. “Oh, the Axman’s been into her for ages.”
Are you kidding me? My teammate is ratting me out to my other teammate.
“That so?” Ivan asks with a smirk.
Best to cut this off at the head. I snap my gaze to Riggs as if he’s lost his mind. “What are you even talking about?”
“Don’t play the innocent. We all know you’ve had it bad for her since well before the fox toss,” Riggs says, turning to Corbin and elbowing him. “Right, Nighty-Night?”
Corbin looks up. “Right, what?”
“Just say right.”
“Nope. Not gonna just say something. What is it?” Corbin leans closer, curious now.
“Is Lake into Remy?” Ivan asks.
I groan. This is like tossing a steak to a pack of lions.
Corbin grins. “Oh, fuck yeah. At the bakery opening, he was like a dog salivating for?—”
I smack the back of Corbin’s helmet.
“Watch it, kid,” he says to me.
“You were gonna say bone.”
“And that bothered you because it’s true?” Corbin counters.
Ivan laughs more. “This just gets better and better. I can’t wait to give you hell at the next Lawn Men Club meetup.”
“It’s not a club,” I say, since this is a perennial topic—we get together sometimes for lawn games, and the guys call it a club. I hate clubs so I refuse to use that word.
Riggs claps me on the shoulder pad. “Don’t deflect.”
“How’s Sapphire?” I ask, deflecting the fuck out of this as I ask about his girlfriend, a reality TV star.
Riggs just shakes his head with a wry smile, clearly amused. “And the answer is…Axman’s obsessed.”
“And now you’re giving her rides and what—going outwith her?” Ivan pushes, since Ivan hates being left out of the news, and clearly no one is going to let this go.
“Yes,” I say.
Before they can utter another word, I’m saved by hockey since it’s time for a line shift.Saved by hockeyis the story of my life. I hope it always will be.
* * *
When the game ends, I’m the first one through the tunnel. On the other side, I spot Remy walking the corridor, heading toward the stairwell, her chestnut hair swishing down her back.
Impulsively, I call out. “Hey, Remy.”
She spins around, and something flickers in those brown eyes. Amusement? Flirtation? I’m really not sure, but I dive in anyway, peeling off my gloves as I go and catching up to her while I’m still in full gear.
“Hey,” I say, ripping off my helmet as I reach her. “Saw you in the press box.”
“And I saw you get an assist.”
