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Chapter three

Holt

“Sorry I’m late,” I yell as I let myself into Wes’s apartment and slip off my sneakers.

I almost said no when Wes invited me to dinner after the team meeting, but I thought better of it and agreed.

I know if I keep avoiding hanging out with them, it’s only a matter of time before one, or all of them, shows up at my apartment unannounced, wanting to talk.

Which would lead to more questions when they realized Kat has moved out.

This was definitely the easier alternative.

“We’re in here,” Wes yells from the kitchen.

I follow the sound of voices, rounding the corner to find my three friends standing around, glasses of tea or water in their hands.

“Hey, Holt,” Wes greets me. “Help yourself to a drink. Dinner should be ready in five minutes.”

I grab a glass from the drying rack and pour myself some water from the pitcher on the counter.

“How are you?” Elias asks me.

“I’m fine.” I take a sip of my drink.

“Are you sure? You kept yawning during the team meeting,” Hunter says.

“You can talk to us if something’s going on.” Wes gestures at the three of them.

“I stayed up too late playing video games, okay? That’s all. ”

Hunter steps closer, putting a hand on my arm. “We’re not pissed at you that we keep losing. I hope you know that. We all bear responsibility for those goals going in as much as you do.”

“Still isn’t helping when your goalie isn’t in top form.” I hang my head, my shoulders sagging.

“Which is why we’re concerned about you. Worried something else is going on,” Elias pipes up.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I think I’m letting all the losses get in my head.”

“Understandable. But if there’s anything you want to talk about, we’re here.” Wes gives me a pointed look.

“Noted.”

“Has anyone talked to Brody lately?” Hunter asks, changing the subject. “Their wedding is coming up soon.”

When Brody retired two seasons ago, he followed his girlfriend, now fiancée, Aubrey, out to Hawaii where she’d been working at an observatory. They recently moved back to Orlando and are expecting a baby and planning a wedding.

“I have. He and Aubs are coming to Monday night’s game,” Wes says.

The oven timer beeps, and the conversation dies as we spend the next few minutes helping get all the food on the table.

“Where’s Madison tonight?” I ask Hunter once we’re all seated, our plates piled high with grilled salmon, sautéed vegetables, and wild rice.

It might be hockey season and therefore time to pay attention to our diets, but that doesn’t mean we have to eat bland chicken, plain rice, and steamed broccoli.

“She’s having dinner with her aunt and her dad,” Hunter says, a huge grin on his face at the mention of his wife.

I’m happy for him. Happy he’s happy. I used to think I might one day have what he has, but now I doubt I’ll ever get that. Some people aren’t cut out to get married, have kids, a family, and I’m one of those people.

Chatter at the table continues, and I do what I usually do, remain silent and observe. Grunting in agreement at the right moments. They leave me alone through dinner, but as we’re lounging on the couch in the living room after everything’s cleared up, Wes turns to me.

“How’s Kat?”

I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say.

I should tell them we’re not together anymore.

Tell them what happened between us. Come clean.

I know I should. But I can’t make myself.

I’d have to explain our breakup, admit I missed all the red flags about our relationship.

The same red flags that were there when we broke up the first time, in high school, because she cheated on me. And I’m not ready to do that.

“She’s fine,” I say.

Hunter raises his eyebrows at me, leaning forward. “You’re fine. She’s fine. Are you going to expand on those statements?”

“No.” I shake my head, leaning back against the sofa.

Elias clears his throat, and I feel him shift next to me, but I refuse to look at him. “Is everything okay between you two?”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Everything is fine. Can we please change the subject?” I turn to Wes. “How’s your dating life?”

He groans and shoves a hand through his hair. “Not fair.”

I smirk. “What about you? Seeing anyone?” I ask Elias.

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Fine. Point taken.” He turns to Hunter. “What do we think of Dr. Jansen?”

“Ran into her and Sutton the other day when Mads was with me. I introduced them.” He frowns. “It was a little awkward.”

His words give me pause, and I tip my head, watching him as he keeps talking. “Mads suggested a ladies’ night to introduce her to everyone. But she wasn’t interested.”

“Maybe she’s a private person,” I mumble, shrugging. “Or she’s overwhelmed. We can be a lot.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hunter agrees.

We lapse into silence for a little while, the only noise coming from the baseball game Wes turned on.

“I think I’m going to head out. Try to catch up on sleep.”

“Okay,” Wes says, and that’s all the permission I need to stand up and stalk toward the front door .

“Holt,” Hunter calls from the living room, but I don’t stop to see what he’s going to say.

I know they mean well, but I don’t want to talk about it.

The drive home is quick, and soon, I’m stepping inside my quiet apartment.

Honestly, I wasn’t planning to come home and go to sleep—it was just an excuse to leave Wes’s—but now that I’m here, I think I might actually do it.

As I’m about to step into the bathroom to take a shower, loud music starts playing from the apartment next door.

I sigh, tipping my head back to glare at the ceiling, hoping maybe they’ll turn it down. Unfortunately not, because the music continues playing. Billy Joel, by the sound of it.

“These walls are pretty thick. Wonder how loud it is over there,” I mutter.

I guess all the years of living next to a quiet neighbor have run out.

Shaking my head, I go over to the wall we share and bang on it a few times.

I could go next door and demand they turn it down, but I don’t have the energy for a face-to-face confrontation.

Or worse, to find out they’re a fan of the Storm and have them want an autograph, or to give me a piece of their mind about how we keep losing.

“Might as well go for a fucking run. Maybe by the time I get back, the concert will be over.”

I quickly change into my running gear and grab my keys before heading out of my apartment.

I’ll probably regret this tomorrow during the game, but right now, I don’t care. I need to get this pent-up frustration out, and focusing on the burn in my muscles is a much better use of my energy than being irritated by my new neighbor, or replaying the evening with my friends.