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Crap, she’s one of those likable people, just like West. Speaking of her fiancé, he clears his throat loudly, and I realize I’m gawking. I grab her hand and pump it a few times.

“Mitch.”

She smiles again and tells us we’re welcome to use the coat rack, before disappearing into the house. West is crossing his arms and staring at me in amusement.

“Glad to see you at a team event, Mitch,” he says simply. His tone is teasing, but it annoys me, nonetheless.

“Bruce kidnapped me,” I offer in explanation, because I want him to know it wasn’t my choice to come hang out at his house like we’re old buddies. Nope. I was dragged here… against my will.

West chuckles and starts to walk past us, but waves a hand for us to follow him. We enter an open concept living space where the rest of the team is scattered about, along with Coach Young. Some are on the large couches near the T.V. playing a game on a Nintendo Switch, and others are grazing around the food table.

I withhold an eye roll when I see the mantel above the fireplace is lined with framed family photos.

The wives and girlfriends are with Melanie in the kitchen, laughing and chatting animatedly. Everyone seems really comfortable with each other. My body goes rigid watching them mingle, like this is their home away from home. Their adopted family.

I’ve come up with a million excuses to avoid events where the guys bring their loved ones, knowing I’d feel this way. This sense of being the odd man out, even when the other single guys don’t seem to feel that way. That familiar feeling of why can’t I be normal creeps into my thoughts.

Ugh. This is exactly the kind of crap my new shrink is going to try to get out of me at our first session on Tuesday.

West stops behind the large sectional in front of our teammate Colby Knight, he’s a good guy, minus the fact that he’s West’s bestie and the two act like teenage girls half the time. Speaking of girls, I think Colby draws even more attention than West in that department. Even I can admit the man’s face is magazine perfection. In my opinion, he’s too pretty, though. It’s disarming… like he’s a drawing come to life.

Before I can escape to the food table, Colby spots me and hollers, “Mitch ‘The Machine!’ Dude. So glad you finally came to a team party!” He lifts his beer in the air in salute. “How's the youth hockey gig going?”

Looking from him, to West, and then at Bruce and Remy… I notice they’re all standing still, focused on me, waiting for me to answer. This is the last thing I want to talk about. Can’t we all just ignore that I messed up and got suspended? It’s embarrassing.

Remy’s eyebrow twitches, his face serious. I know I’m not getting out of talking about this. I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, feeling too hot and a little itchy.

“The kids are brats. The rink is run down. Oh, and a mom stormed onto the ice and yelled at me.”

Bruce belts out a laugh, making several more heads turn in our direction. Great, just what I wanted, Bruce. More attention. I level a serious look at him and he sombers.

Colby has the good sense to attempt hiding his amusement, but I can tell he’s biting his cheeks to keep from laughing.

Remy—as per usual—doesn’t give away what he’s thinking, his facial expression unchanged. “Why? Was she wearing skates?”

I shake my head once. “Nope. Just her tennis shoes. And she came to lecture me about being nice to the boys.”

West’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “Were you being mean to the kids?” he asks accusingly.

I glare at him. “Of course not, I’m not a monster, West.” My voice comes out with more malice than I intended. I clear my throat and add, “I was raising my voice. But one kid high-sticked another in the throat. On purpose.”

The four of them grimace.

“Damn,” Bruce whispers, drawing out the word for drama. “That’s intense. Maybe she didn’t see that part.”

“Must not have, and it was even her kid that did the high-sticking.” I huff out a humorless laugh.

Colby crosses his arms, a baffled expression on his face. “Youth hockey sure has changed since I was a kid.”

“For real,” Remy agrees. “Good luck surviving those little savages, man.”

“Thanks,” I reply in an unamused monotone. “Can we eat now?”

“Anyone want a beer before I go hang with my girl?” West grins just talking about her.

Colby grins, too, and gives him a fist bump where they pretend their hands explode afterward. I roll my eyes, but they don’t notice.

West remembers asking us a question and looks at us expectantly. Bruce says, “That’s alright. I’ll grab one for myself after I get some food.”