Page 25 of Forbidden Hockey

Did Trav fire him? I gotta go back there, calm him the fuck down. One of the hostees walks up to me, holding three chits in her hand.

“Um, sorry. We triple sat you.”

“What the fuck? I have Todd’s section, too. Didn’t Trav or Stacey tell you over the headset?”

“Nope. Have fun.”

“Here, lemme take two of those,” Dash says. “I’ll make sure Dad calms down. Don’t worry about a thing—he just loves you to death.”

Awesome, he loves me like what? A son? But we’ve never had those vibes. Not from my end anyway. I guess I could say we’re friends, but about the only friend I’d get this protective of is Dash.

The night’s a blur after that. I’m run off my feet by the time close comes around, because of course, my tables decide to stay till the bitter end. Trav’s checked on me about three times sinceI almost got run through with a knife. Apparently, there’s gonna be a whole staff meeting on knife safety.

When I’m changed and cashed out, I pace outside Trav’s office. Because we should talk, but what do I even say?

“You waiting for me?” he says from behind.

I jump, even though his voice is softer than I ever remember hearing it. I thought he was in his office. “Um, yeah.”

“How’s your?—”

“Fine. It’s fine, Travis,” I snap.

“You’re pissed at me,” he says, crossing his arms, not looking all that fazed about me being pissed if you ask me.

“What was your first fucking clue?” I say, knowing Trav wouldn’t appreciate other members of the staff talking to him like this. Didn’t think about it before, but now it stands out. “Did you fire Todd over this?”

“You’re damn right I did.”

“You didn’t fire Jack when he almost stabbed you the other day,” I bring up again, because I don’t think he gets how much of a hypocrite he is. “Fuck, don’t fire Jack.”

Trav runs a frustrated hand through his hair, and for once. “You’re right. I’m a hypocrite, but you…”

You were the one in danger.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but I can see it there as glaring as neon lights. It’s just like Dash said, but I still don’t know why he cares to a level that could arguably be labelled as psychotic.

“Look, we’re gonna have a meeting. Things are gonna be different around here.”

“Unfire Todd.Please.”

Trav’s quiet for several heartbeats, his gaze flicks to my bandaged arm. He shakes his head. “That’s not a good idea.” He studies me. What does he see? Do I have a pleading look about me? Because that’s how I feel. “I’ll make sure he gets hired somewhere else.”

Trav’s tall form barrels past me. He closes his office door. I’ve been dismissed.Asshole.

A million explanations flood my mind, Dash’s at the forefront—it’s gotta be that right? I’m his son’s bestie, so he’s especially protective. Loves me to death. That’s what Dash said.And if that weren’t enough, Trav is into women, remember?

Yeah, I remember, but this feels different. Can’t put my finger on the brand of different, though.

I exhale, stumbling when the oxygen rushes in. Was I holding my breath? Not surprising. Travis takes my breath away.

Finally, a day off, and for some reason, Hunter’s in our kitchen fixing the outlet. I hide in my room, which might make me a huge dick, but Hunt will enlist my help, and I’m sooooo fucking tired. It’s been six days in a row at The Wicklow, and I’m dead, something Hunt won’t understand with his ten-day-a-week work schedule. He’ll tell me I need to build character, or something. The only thing I’m building right now is a pillow fort to shove my head into, where I’ll close my eyes and maybe fall back to sleep.

But when I saunter out for a beer later, after I know Hunt’s left, I figure out why he was here pretty quickly—Dash was trying to make Stacey jealous. In news that surprises no one, it worked, and Stacey’s transformed from sweet golden retriever to posturing Doberman. I breeze by their bickering match and open the fridge, reaching for an ice-cold Corona. Don’t even think they noticed me enter the kitchen.

“He’s into men, too,” Dash taunts Stacey, referring to Hunt, who, I guess, had mentioned his current girlfriend while he was here.

“Yeah, things aren’t going too well with her,” I say as I rummage for the last Corona. I know it’s here somewhere.