“Not really my thing.”
“Plus, Mr. Bubbles always gets the zoomies when we hike, and it’s really fun to watch his jowls jiggle.”
As if she’s appeared out of thin air, Darcy’s voice sounds right behind me.
“Okay, that’s cute.”
I spin around fast, taking in the sight of her. She’s wearing an army green jacket, a matching beanie snug over her now neatly brushed hair, heather gray gloves, and gray joggers that hang off her long legs, a row of pockets bulging at the sides. The sight etches a coy smile in the groove of my lips.
“What’d you pack this time?” I gesture at the pockets. She rolls her eyes, probably a calculated plan in hopes I don’t catch the fact that she’s smiling while she does it. A failed plan.
“Some snacks, pain meds, water, first aid stuff for your cut, and duct tape.”
I frown, confused. “Duct tape? For what?”
She grins. “Just in case you don’t shut up.”
I clasp a hand over my heart, feigning a wince.
She laughs, shaking her head. I like the little rays that form around her eyes when she does that.
I reach for the doorknob, but just before I turn it, a hand presses to my shoulder. I glance back, meeting her gaze.
“You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?” she asks. Those emerald eyes are wide, looking down at me worriedly. I’m almost offended that she feels the need to ask me. But then again, we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms.
I pause for a second, then let a coy smile etch into my lips. “Tell anyone what?”
A pink tint flushes Darcy’s cheeks as a smile breaks across her face, and I turn back to the door, pulling it open.
My bedroom is next to Harlowe’s, and still, I have never heard so much moaning in mylife.
Half of the twenty-two-player team is grumbling as we hike up the trail, but Bailey is the main culprit, letting out a series of long, dramatic sighs every time the flat ground turns into an uphill. It appears I’m not the only one who dragged their “buddy” along. Even Mr. Bubbles is getting fed up with the noise, trotting ahead to sniff the jerky in Coach’s pocket. She swats himaway at first, but when he presses his wet nose to her side again, I watch as she rips a piece of jerky in half and tosses it to him.
“For someone who can spend hours on the ice without a complaint,” Harlowe starts, digging her spiked shoes into the dirt. I like hiking, but I can admit Harlowe takes it to a whole other level. I enjoy it casually—wandering the woods, getting lost, listening to the animals. At my own pace, you know? But Harlowe treats it like a second sport. She wears ridiculous shoes, packs enough snacks to survive a week of isolation, and sports those damn spikes even though there’s no ice anywhere. “You’rereallywhiny about hiking.”
Bailey scowls, trudging along the path in tight jeans, a velvety pink sweatshirt, and brand-new white sneakers. If I were her, I wouldn’t be thrilled either.
“Don’t pretend hockey is the same asthis.”She gestures to the path like it’s personally offended her. Then she looks over her shoulder, calling out, “Right, Darcy?”
I glance back, catching Darcy’s confused stare. Her brows furrow, and she tilts her head. “Huh?”
“Isn’t hikingcompletelyincomparable to hockey?”
I nudge Bailey’s ribcage with my elbow, and she winces, whipping around with a scowl. “What the hell?”
I shake my head, giving her a disapproving look. “Don’t do that.”
She rubs her rib dramatically. “Do what?”
“Don’tbring it up,” I mutter, shooting her a serious look. Bailey pauses, then shrugs ingenuously.
“I didn’t mean it likethat,” she says, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. “We were just talking the other day about how wedespisenature.”
I glance back at Darcy. A hint of a smile tugs at her freckled lips, and she gives me a subtle nod.
“Oh,” I reply.
When we’ve made it to the top, we gaze out at the endless rows of trees and snow-capped mountains. The midday sun bathes the forest below, golden rays streaking through the forest. It’s absolutely beautiful.
