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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tyler

The cold air bites at my face as I glide across the ice, my skates cutting sharp, clean lines into the frozen surface.

The sound of blades slicing and sticks tapping against pucks fills the rink, a rhythm as familiar as my own heartbeat. Nick skates ahead of me, his movements smooth and deliberate as he blocks one of our teammates attempting to pass.

“Right here!” I shout, tapping my stick against the ice.

Nick doesn’t hesitate.

He intercepts the puck with precision, a quick flick of his wrist sending it my way. I grip my stick tightly, my eyes locked on the small black disk as it slides toward me.

The opposing players close in fast, their skates spraying icy mist as they maneuver to block me. I shift my weight, feinting left before darting right, my body moving purely on instinct.

Nick is already repositioning himself behind me, a solid wall of defense in case I lose control. “Go for it, Ty!” he yells.

I push forward, weaving between the last two players before locking my focus on the goalie. My muscles tense as I pull back my stick, calculating the angle.

With a sharp snap, I send the puck flying. It sails cleanly into the top corner of the net, past the goalie’s outstretched glove.

The goal horn blares, and a grin spreads across my face as I raise my arms triumphantly. “That’s game, boys!” I shout, circling back toward Nick.

It’s just another practice game, but we are just about to start playing for the season, and it feels good to know that I’m as ready as I can be.

Steam billows around me as I rinse off under the hot spray of the locker room shower later. Nick’s voice echoes over the sound of the running water as he chats with a couple of teammates nearby.

“Hell of a shot, Ty,” one of them calls out, his words bouncing off the tiled walls.

“Thanks,” I shout back, turning the knob to shut off the water. I grab my towel from the hook and wrap it around my waist, stepping out onto the slightly damp floor.

Nick follows close behind, smirking as he towels off his hair. “You gonna be this sharp during the game?” he teases.

“You know it,” I reply, grinning as I open my locker to grab my clothes.

By the time we’re dressed, pulling on well-worn jeans and tailored shirts, the locker room is buzzing with energy. A few teammates slap us on the shoulders, congratulating us on the play.

“Remember that setup,” one of them says. “We’re gonna need it during the game.”

“Already locked in,” Nick replies, tapping the side of his head.

Revved up from practice and the camaraderie, I glance at Nick as we head out. “Cigar and whiskey bar tonight?”

Nick nods, his grin matching mine. “Hell yeah.”

The drive to downtown Minneapolis is smooth, the city lights gradually growing brighter as we leave the quiet suburbs behind. The roads are lined with snowbanks, the remnants of a recent snowfall glinting under the streetlights.

“All right,” Nick says, tapping the dashboard rhythmically. “What’s the game plan for Saturday? Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

“Always,” I reply, my hands steady on the wheel. “I’ve been thinking about trying that backhand pass fake. You know, the one we pulled off last season against the Stars.”

Nick leans back in his seat, nodding thoughtfully. “Good call. If I can block their right-winger, you’ll have a clean lane.”

“Exactly,” I say, shooting him a quick grin. “That’s why I love playing with you. You get it before I even say it.”

Nick chuckles. “Twin intuition.”

“Damn right.”

The city skyline comes into view, the lights of the buildings reflecting off the frozen Mississippi River. I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. Having Nick by my side, both on and off the ice, is something I’ll never take for granted.

“Think about it,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence. “How many players can say they’ve got someone who knows them like this? We’ve got an edge.”

Nick nods, his gaze fixed on the approaching city. “We do.”

The whiskey bar sits on a quiet corner in downtown, its understated sign illuminated by soft, golden lighting. As we pull up, the valet steps forward, greeting us with a friendly nod.

“Evening, gentlemen,” he says, opening my door.

“Thanks, man,” I reply, tossing him the keys as Nick climbs out on the other side.

Inside, the bar is a warm oasis against the winter chill. The wood-paneled walls gleam under dim, amber lights, and the stone flooring gives the space a rustic yet polished feel. Rows of whiskey bottles line the backlit shelves behind the bar, each label a promise of smooth, smoky enjoyment.

Nick and I make our way to our usual table, a sturdy wooden booth tucked into a cozy corner. By now, it’s always reserved for us when we call. The waitress pulls the reservation slip off the table as soon as we sit down, flashing us a smile.

“Your usuals?” she asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” I reply, leaning back into the worn leather seat.

She returns quickly with two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling invitingly. As I take my first sip, the rich, oaky taste spreads warmth through my chest.

At the bar, a few men nod in our direction, lifting their glasses in silent acknowledgment. It’s a quiet camaraderie, the kind that comes from being regulars.

“This,” I say, gesturing with my glass, “is how you unwind after a good practice.”

Nick raises his glass, smirking. “To us.”

“To us,” I echo, clinking my glass against his.

I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light as I lean back in the booth. The burn in my chest from the sip I just took is pleasant, but the memories from earlier today are even better.

“So,” I say, smirking at Nick, “that tryst with Ally in her office, how hot was that?”

Nick rolls his eyes but can’t suppress the small grin tugging at his lips. “It was…something else,” he admits, his tone quieter, more thoughtful. “We’ve been with a lot of girls, Ty, but none like her. She’s…different.”

I nod, the smirk slipping into something more genuine. “Yeah, I know what you mean. She brings out…I don’t know, something deeper in me.”

Nick raises an eyebrow at me. “Deeper? Since when do you get all philosophical?”

I chuckle, taking another sip of whiskey. “Fine, maybe that’s your department. But she’s definitely the hottest girl we’ve ever been with. No contest.”

Nick shakes his head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

He doesn’t argue, and we clink glasses in a quiet toast.

Before I can say more, a familiar voice cuts through the low hum of the bar.

“Well, well,” Tiffany says, sauntering over to our table with a hand on her hip. Her dark eyes glint with annoyance. “I was wondering where you two have been hiding.”

I sigh, leaning back in my seat. “Hey, Tiff. What’s up?”

She plants herself next to the table, ignoring the obvious disinterest on both our faces. “What’s up? What’s up is you two ghosting me. Who’s replaced me, huh?”

Nick snorts, shaking his head. “Nobody replaced you. We weren’t dating, Tiff. You know that.”

“Yeah,” I add, swirling the whiskey in my glass. “Plenty of guys out there, Tiff. You’ll find someone else.”

Her eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth to retort, but before she can, she bumps into someone behind her.

Bruno Varga, the Slovak goalie, glances down at her, his towering frame making her look tiny in comparison. He’s sitting at the bar with another man, but his sharp features twist into a frown as he watches her stomp away in a huff.

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but…” Nick mutters as Tiffany storms off. Bruno’s gaze lingers on us for a moment before he shakes his head and turns back to his drink.

The moment Tiffany leaves, I glance over at Bruno again, noting how quiet the bar feels now. He’s not someone I’d want to cross, and the last thing I need is him overhearing anything about Ally.

I lower my voice, leaning closer to Nick. “So…do you think there’s any chance we could actually have something real with Ally? Like, not just the fun we’ve been having?”

Nick furrows his brow, his fingers drumming lightly against his glass. “I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admits. “She’s not like the other girls. I mean, she’s got a career, goals, a good head on her shoulders. She’s not just here for a good time.”

“Exactly,” I say, nodding. “She’s the kind of girl you don’t just mess around with. She’s…special.”

Nick tilts his head, studying me. “You really believe that?”

I pause, swirling the last of my whiskey. “Yeah,” I say finally. “I do.”

Nick leans back, his expression thoughtful. “So, let me ask you this, could you actually settle down, Ty? Like, give up the clubbing, the puck bunnies, all of it?”

I shrug, trying to play it cool, but the weight of the question hits me harder than I expected. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

I glance at him, then down at my empty glass. “Now? A girl like Ally…she makes you think about it. For the first time, I’m actually considering it. Like, what it’d be like to have someone like her, not just for a night, but…longer.”

Nick nods slowly, his gaze steady. “Yeah. Me too.”

The thought lingers between us, unspoken but heavy.

I swirl the ice in my glass, staring into the amber remnants of my drink. The idea of settling down has always felt foreign, but now? Now it feels like a possibility, one I’m not entirely sure how to handle.