Page 32 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Penn

“ So I asked Harold if he ’ d close Cordelia ’ s for the morning.

Once I told him what it was for, he was happy to do it.

I got a bunch of string lights, and when we walked in, I had white flower petals leading up to our booth,” Jack recounts.

Cordelia ’ s, the local cafe in Wyndham, is where Jack first met Mia—well, met is a bit of a stretch considering he couldn ’ t even work up the courage to say hi to her—but still, it ’ s very full circle.

“ Romantic as shit,” Evan mutters under his breath as we all raptly listen to the story.

“ It was nice, and then we sat, had our lattes, and I told her I loved her.” The entire locker room erupts in ‘ awes ’ as Jack ’ s cheeks burn red.

He ’ s not a feelings guy, but with Mia?

The man is a love-sick puppy dog with her.

“ Then, I asked her if she ’ d do me the honor of being my wife.

” Jack looks down, clearly over all the attention, as he starts on his skates.

“ And?” Max calls out, as impatient as the rest of us.

Clueless, he looks up to see all of our eyes are still on him.

“ And she said yes?” It comes out confused, like he ’ s not sure what we were waiting for.

The entire room erupts with energy as we jump to our feet.

“ Fucking right!” Max shouts, the first to pull Jack into a hug.

“ That ’ s huge, bro. I ’ m so happy for you both,” Evan adds, lining up to be the next to congratulate him.

I heard the story the day after it happened on a FaceTime with Reid and my parents.

Mom cried, Dad was super proud, and Reid thinks he ’ s going to be the best man.

Over my dead, jack ed body. See that? Those are the types of puns Jack can expect in my best man speech.

Reid claims he ’ s closer to him, given that they ’ re so close in age, but me?

I ’ ve been the annoying, basically little brother for most of his life. I ’ m a fucking shoe-in.

“ Okay, someone else talk now. Please.” That ’ s Jack for you. He likes to avoid the spotlight when he can. Man of very few words, and usually they ’ re scolds directed toward me.

Max takes the opportunity to recount his wild weekend back home, capturing most of the guys ’ attention. I turn to Theo, unlacing his skates from our morning practice.

“ How was your weekend?”

“ Good. Spent most of it training here.” Of course he did. I smile at how predictable Theo is, half admiration, half pity. His focus is unmatched for sure, but it ’ s a little… I don ’ t know, singular? Nothing else is able to exist in his life.

“ That ’ s cool,” I reply, not caring to talk about training right now. It was another practice where I ’ ve felt off my game. It ’ s like a fog has descended upon me, and no matter how hard I try, I can ’ t escape it.

“ I heard Coach talking about a trade,” Theo whispers to me.

My stomach drops to the floor, discomfort prickling every inch of my skin.

I turn to him, trying to read his expression.

Is this a warning? Trying to prep me so I ’ m not totally and utterly blindsided?

To my relief, I don ’ t find any signs of condolence in his gaze.

Okay, maybe he just so happened to be at the right place at the right time.

He ’ s sharing insight with me, his friend, not trying to ease the blow of my trade announcement.

“ Who?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse. Theo shakes his head.

“ Don ’ t know.”

I force a swallow, daring myself to ask the question I don ’ t want to know the answer to. “ Do you think it ’ s me?”

Theo has always been calm, an eerie robotism to him, but every now and then, there are flickers, little moments that remind me he ’ s human.

I saw it when I first showed him the video games I like to play, or when we ’ d try a new restaurant I found.

Happiness breaks through the stoic facade, but today?

He frowns, like he ’ s showing me his sadness for the first time, and it feels all the more meaningful.

“ Don ’ t know.”

He looks about as lost as I do. I ’ ve grown close to him, and despite being compared to one another endlessly—me always falling short—I ’ ve loved our friendship.

I ’ d miss the hell out of the guy if I left.

I look around the locker room at all the boys.

Hell, I ’ d miss them all. I ’ d miss this.

I cover my face with both my hands, resting my elbows on my knees and take a few deep breaths. Whether I like it or not, this is just part of the job. But just because I had a shit practice, doesn ’ t mean I ’ m going to have a shit game. I can ’ t let the worry impact me.

I ’ m going to play like my career depends on it.

It just might.

***

Jack, Scott, Max, Evan, Theo, and I sit in a round booth waiting for our pre-game meal to arrive. It ’ s no secret we ’ re the closest on the team. Not exactly the Brady Bunch, and there will be no matching Halloween costumes, but somehow the pack of us just work.

I ’ m tired, that much is clear. Whether it ’ s the waiting for news that may or may not even come, or how hard I fought my body to try and salvage my training this morning, I need revitalizing. Food and a pre-game nap should do the trick. It has to.

“ You know that shit girls always talk about?” Max asks the group.

“ No, you dumb-fuck, could you be any more vague?” Evan snaps back.

“ My bad. Like, how they always ask if you ’ d love them if they were a worm and stuff?”

“ Ohh,” Evan clues in.

“ What?” Theo asks innocently.

“ It ’ s a trap,” Evan kindly informs him. “ Girls want you to say you ’ d love them no matter what, so if you don ’ t answer with that, they ’ ll fight you.”

“ Geez,” Theo replies back, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“ Right?” Max slams his hand on the table. “ It ’ s crazy. I mean a worm? How would we, you know…”

“ Of course, that ’ s where your head would go,” Jack chimes in. “ For the record, I would still love Mia if she was a worm.”

“ Course you would.” Max seems irritated by his answer, obviously wanting to have a venting session instead of hearing more sentimentality from Jack and his love bubble.

I raise my eyebrows at Jack to the left of me.

“ What? All I ’ m saying is she ’ d be a cute worm.” I smile, shaking my head, because there ’ s no doubt in my mind that he means that wholeheartedly.

“ Cap?” I ask, as the boys start to get into the likelihood of waking up one day as an invertebrate.

“ Brooksy?” he replies in that deep voice of his. He ’ s got the whole DILF thing going for him. Very paternal, even when he’s not trying to be. He’s a great captain.

“ You talk to Coach about our roster lately?” I struggle to look Scott in his eyes, afraid of what they might reveal, but I power through. His brown eyes are full of understanding as he lets out a deep sigh.

“ Those decisions are above my pay grade, Brooksy.”

I nod. “ So you haven ’ t heard any rumblings?”

“ I didn ’ t say that. Look, it ’ s a part of the game, sometimes it ’ s even for the best, even if it doesn ’ t feel like it in the moment. But I don ’ t make the calls.”

“ I love the Tundra,” I mumble, taking a sip of my water. “ I ’ m not ready to go.” I catch a glimpse of Jack ’ s eyes on me, like he ’ s overhearing our conversation, but he gives me and Scott the space to continue our chat.

“ You can ’ t think like that. Focus on what you can control.”

“ I have been,” I retort with a frustrated sigh.

“ I ’ m trying to be more focused. Ramped up my training, working on my mental game, swore off meaningless hookups, everything, Cap.

” The frustration is just pouring out of me at this point.

“ If anything, I ’ ve been trying ten times harder this year, all for it to work against me. ”

Scott stays calm, intently watching me. “ It sounds like you might be too in your head right now.”

“ I know,” I reply, sounding as defeated as I feel.

“ Penn.” Oh shit. Not Brooksy? This is serious.

I straighten up in my chair, waiting for the blow he ’ s about to deliver.

“ Your intuition during plays, your love of the game, and how much you like being on the ice with the boys? That ’ s your superpower.

You have fun when you play, and it ’ s always showed.

Maybe you need to get back to having fun when you ’ re off the ice, too? ”

The tension in my body eases as he finishes his sentence. I ’ m so relieved, I don ’ t even realize I ’ m sitting here wordlessly staring at him. I sort of expected him to ream me out for how poorly I ’ ve been playing, tell me to smarten up or something.

“ Why don ’ t you go back to letting loose a bit, sharing those wild dating stories of yours like your buddy Dunner over there?

” He motions his head toward Max, who ’ s moving his hands animatedly.

The thought of being lumped in with a guy like Max?

Going back to meaningless hookups and new girls every week? Makes me sick to my stomach.

“ No.” I shake my head, my voice firm. “ I ’ m done with that. Thanks for the advice, though, Cap. I appreciate your time.”

“ It ’ s what I ’ m here for.” He smiles, his hand coming down on my shoulder in a ‘ go get ‘ em ’ type of slap.

All of us devour our food in less than fifteen minutes. We can pack it in on rest days, so imagine how ravenous we are on game days after a morning skate… Borderline horrifying. Scott ’ s phone rings as we ’ re finishing up our last bites.

There ’ s nothing in this world he loves more than his girls. His wife and baby make up ninety percent of all of his conversations. It may just be contagious, because Jack caught that bug, too. Mia comes up every second sentence now. It was a hard adjustment at first, but it really is nice to see.

“ Hi, baby!” Cami ’ s voice calls out through the phone. The guys on the other side of the booth don ’ t seem to notice, their conversations not wavering as Scott takes the call.

“ You look beautiful. How are my girls?”

“ Having a blast! It ’ s a girls ’ night!” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the camera pans around Jack ’ s new place. Kaia is sitting on the floor with toys, and Mia waves at the camera from the couch. “ We ’ re helping Bri find an outfit for her hot date.”

I swallow hard, the full attention of my gaze locking onto the screen in time to see Bri looking like a god-damned goddess in a tight, low-cut black dress. She stands awkwardly in the center of the screen, one hand clutching her other elbow, shifting in her heels.

“ Hi, Scott,” she squeaks, sounding nothing like the girl I ’ ve come to know. Cami flips the camera, her face the only one filling the screen again.

“ Just a quick call today. Wanted to say good luck, my love. We ’ ll be watching!”

“ Love you, Cami.”

“ Love you, Scottie.”

“ Love my Kaia-girl, too.”

A “ dada!” squeals through the phone. Scott smiles wide enough to look like it hurts as he closes out the screen with a contented sigh. I on the other hand, feel like the biggest asshole known to man.

He excuses himself from the table to go to the restroom as I sit fuming.

She ’ s going out with Clark.

Not just that... she ’ s going out with Clark looking like that ?

I ’ m a fucking idiot. I ’ m struggling to contain the rage that ’ s poisoning my system, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

Jack ’ s shoulder bumps into mine, pulling my attention. “ It ’ s Bridgette, right?”

I nod, not trusting myself to use my big-boy words to express how I feel.

“ You like her?” he asks, zero judgment in his tone.

“ So much,” I manage to get out, though my mouth has gone bone dry.

“ You should tell her.”

I stare at my legs under the table, nodding.

A large hand lands on my back, pulling me into a sideways hug.

“ It ’ s a good thing, Penn.” It ’ s like he ’ s trying to reassure me, like he ’ s worried I ’ m afraid of liking Bri. That ’ s not it at all.

“ I don ’ t think she ’ ll go for it,” I admit. She ’ s made it pretty clear she ’ s not interested in being anything more than friends. Obviously not as affected by our situation as I am.

I mean, I can ’ t go ten seconds without thinking about her. It ’ s never been like this. I ’ ve never been so hung up over a girl—and it feels like so much more than that. I want it to mean so much more than that.

“ It ’ s worth a shot,” Jack replies.

Something blooms in my chest. Hope? Or excitement? Not sure. The only thing I do know?

I ’ m going to take my fucking shot, I just hope I ’ m not too late.