“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and I turn to find Luka staring up at me. “Happy birthday.”
“Yeah, umm, thanks,” I reply.
“You’ve got some pretty cool brothers to set all this up for you.”
“They’re the best. Do you have brothers?”
“No, only child.”
“Explains a lot,” I say before I can stop myself.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t . . . I just meant, you know, you grew up not really having to share or think of others. It was all about you. It just makes sense now why you are the way you are.”
My mind is screaming no, but my mouth just won’t stop.
“And you’re the oldest, right? And you had to practically raise them, so it makes sense you’re used to telling everyone else what to do,” he replies.
“I’m the captain, that’s kind of my job.”
Kirkston wraps an arm over Luka’s shoulder.
“Come on, rook, I’ll buy you a drink,” he says, practically pulling him away from me. My hands are in tight fists at my sides, my pulse racing. Will things with this kid ever be easy?
Kirkston is here with his wife, Otter. She works out of the same firehouse as Colt’s boyfriend, AJ. We did a special fire versus ice exhibition game against them last year to raise money for at-risk youth. It was Colt’s idea, but the second he brought it to the team, there was no way we were going to let the big bosses of the Foxes say no. Turned out that wasn’t an issue. In fact, they went all inand hyped up the game, got loads of donations from sponsors, and they had us raise hundreds of thousands before the first puck even dropped.
It’s one of the reasons I love this club. They’re my extended family, always there for you through thick and thin. And birthdays too, apparently. I spotted Coach Dennings and West, our assistant coach in charge of special teams, sitting at a booth eating a few slices. King Pizza Bar has what I believe is the best pizza in Philly, and the fact that you can grab a beer while you eat makes it my absolute favorite. Not that I’ll be having more than one or two tonight. We’ve got training and an away game coming up to get ready for.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” I say, sliding into the booth beside West.
“Like anyone could say no to your brothers,” West replies with a chuckle.
“I have to admit, it’s a challenge sometimes,” I agree.
“Well, we’ll only be staying for one drink, we’ve got a coaches meeting early in the morning before you guys get in.”
“You’ll probably still see Hart in there. Kid’s been in at five every day since he joined,” I say, and Coach Dennings glances at West.
“Topher’s always there to keep an eye on things,” West says, and the concern lifts from his face.
“He might be a little worse for wear if he keeps that up,” Coach says, nodding toward the bar where Luka is downing an entire pitcher of what looks like beer.
“I should go,” I say, standing from the booth and leaving before they can say anything more.
What the hell is he thinking?
“Hart, you and me, outside,” I say as I pass him, and I make a beeline for the side door. I’m not sure who else heard me, or even if he’s following, but either way I need some air.
I step out into the crisp night air, but it does nothing to quench the flush in my face.
“What’s up?
“Do you want to be here?” I ask, and he looks around the alley beside the restaurant.
“Not particularly, it was warmer inside.”
“Enough with the jokes,” I say, stepping closer to him, and he backs up until his back is against the painted brick wall. “Do you want to be in the NHL, to play for the Foxes? Do you want to be here?”
