Page 82 of Lucky Puck

“We’re on our way to The Hole in the Wall, a small dive bar in Portsmouth. Do you know it?”

“No. Look, I’d love to meet you there, but I’m beat and on my way home. I do want to meet your new⁠—”

I interrupt, leaning close to Brooks to talk into the phone. “I look forward to meeting you too, Kat. Next game.”

She giggles. “Oh my god. He’s with you. Sorry if I’m interrupting something. Call me when you have a chance, B.” She hangs up, and Brooks looks disappointed.

“I was going to tell her not to meet us anyway. She knows the truth about us, and it wouldn’t be wise to take the chance that she’d get tipsy and say the wrong thing.”

“Well, shit, Brooks. You should have said something.”

“I just did.”

“I mean you should have invited her over to our place so we can meet privately.” She heaves a breath, and I realize that’s not her style. “You don’t feel at home at my condo, do you?”

“Sure I do. I feel so at home I walked in and slapped your ex-girlfriend, didn’t I?”

I laugh, and the memory of that slap-down sends a pleasant buzz through my system like a sip of good champagne. But I know it wasn’t something she wouldn’t normally do, that it was hard for her. Maybe that’s part of why the gesture feels so extraordinary to me and makes me feel so fucking grateful for it. “That’s right. You did.”

She smiles with a glint of triumph in her eyes.

“But it cost you.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and looking away, and I let her get away with the deflection because we’ve already arrived at The Hole in the Wall.

As I pull to the curb not far from the front door, she mutters, “I just hope Nora doesn’t show up here.”

“What do you mean? Why would she?”

“She’s like a bad penny. She came down to the media pit with Kara after the game while you were still in the locker room.”

“You’re shitting me?” What the fuck? “Did she say anything to you?”

Brooks averts her eyes, and I have my answer.

“Not much. She started to cause a fuss.”

I swipe a hand through my hair. “Sorry about that, Brooks. Kara knows better than to let her play any more of her games.”

“You talked to your sister about her?” She looks at me with such hope and disbelief that if I had to, I would lie not to disappoint her. Luckily, I don’t have to lie.

I nod. “We came to an understanding. Kara and I are close—hella closer than she is with Nora.”

“Right. Blood is thicker than water and all.” Brooks tries for a smile as she gets out of the car, but her expression is more brave than happy. Rounding the car, I catch up with her before we go inside.

“Hey, you in a hurry? We’re together, remember? You’re my wife.”

She shivers, and I wrap an arm around her. “I mean, you need to act like my wife.”

“Right. No worries. I can handle it.”

Somehow, I hear the echo of a whole lot of things she’s leaving unsaid. We step inside the crush of noise from the wall-to-wall people all talking at once, drowning out any opportunity to find out what all those unsaid thoughts are about.

Before I take three steps, my attention is grabbed by Jason, who beckons us to the back. As we move through the place, fans congratulate me, shake my hand, slap my back, and whistle, preventing any contemplation aside from making it to the relative quiet of our team table.

“You come here often?” Brooks shouts. “I’ve never heard of this place.”

“Well-kept secret hang-out.”