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“It’s okay. I mean, I willingly went along with it… so it’s not all on you.” I can hear the smile in her voice, which puts me at ease. “I really would like for us to be friends again, though. If you’re up for it.”

I turn my head to look at her, considering her words. I’d like to be more than just friends. Actually, I’d like to kiss her again, and smell her when she’s fresh out of the shower. But I don’t have a death wish, so I answer with, “I’d like that.”

We smile at each other, causing me to nearly rear-end the vehicle in front of me.

Freaking D.C. traffic.

* * *

After dropping Melanie off at her vehicle, I head to hockey practice. I barely made it on time thanks to the ruckus Kat caused.

When I walk into the locker room all of the other guys stop what they’re doing and begin to applaud. My brow furrows in confusion.

Huffing out a small laugh, I ask, “What’s this all about?”

Our team captain, Ford Remington, or Remy as we call him, is the only one not taking part in the teasing. He rolls his eyes before turning his back to the room. He’s the oldest one on the team at a whopping thirty-three-years old, and definitely the most mature.

“Your lady friend stopped by looking for you,” Colby Knight is the first to speak up. I take a seat next to him on our bench.

Mitch Anderson scoffs from my other direction. “I’ll never understand how you get all these beautiful women fawning all over you.”

I ignore him and turn my head to speak to Colby. “Who was it?”

“She was super tall, moved like a gazelle, and had an accent.” He smirks and leans in to whisper, “She was also a little terrifying.”

I run a hand down my face. “Katarina? She came here? Ugh.”

“Yeah, man. The guys have been in an uproar about having a model come to the rink. Mitch told her you always visit the Patriot Cafe before practice.”

Whipping my head in my other direction, I glare at Mitch. This explains how Kat found me. “Why would you give out information like that? You know the crazy people we have to deal with!”

He shoots me a sardonic smile and I grit my teeth together to keep myself from saying something I’ll regret. Remy must’ve overheard the conversation and takes a few steps across the room in our direction.

He frowns at Mitch. “We don’t give out personal information about our teammates, or anyone working for the Eagles. I don’t care if it’s Coach Young or an intern. Are we understood?”

Mitch squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw. “Yeah, Remington. I got it.”

Once we’re all suited up, we split off into teams for practice. As soon as I’m on the ice, the stress of this morning begins to melt away. I breathe the cold air into my lungs as I skate a few laps to warm up. Even the sound of my skates hitting the ice calms me. The ice is where I decompress, and also where I work out any frustrations.

There’s a reason they say if you can’t play nice, play hockey. And there’s a certain teammate who’s going to learn what happens when his actions affect the people I love.

Now that we're all warmed up, coach drops the puck and I face off against Mitch. I take possession of the puck and take it out of the neutral zone, leaving Mitch snarling in my wake. I pass the puck to Remy, and he skates it closer to the net before passing it to Colby. Mitch is skating over to block Colby’s shot, but I get to him first and body check him. Upon impact, he groans and falls on his back, sliding a few feet on the ice before stopping.

He gets up quickly and his lip curls in a snarl. “What was that for?” He yells.

“It was a clean hit.” I shrug.

Mitch flies at me and grabs my jersey. He draws his arm back to punch me, but coach skates over and gets between us before his fist meets my jaw.

“You two need to cool it!” Coach Young places a palm on each of our chests to keep us apart. “This is just practice, boys. Remember you’re normally on the same team.”

Mitch’s face is still twisted in anger like he wants to brawl. And honestly, I’d welcome the chance to get a few more hits in.

“Pretty sure West is the one needing reminded of that.” Mitch sneers.

“Says the guy who gave my personal whereabouts to a stranger,” I snap back.

“Both of you shut up!” Coach demands before dragging his hand down his face in frustration. “This isn’t daycare, and I’m not a babysitter. So pull up your big boy underwear and deal with your personal issues later.” He narrows his eyes at me and Mitch before skating back off the ice.