Page 26 of The Best Parts of Him

“Yo, guys!” he yelled, loud enough to be heard out in the locker room and hopefully in the team’s lounge. “Show-and-tell in five minutes.” To Burke, he said, “Did you grab something to eat? The grilled chicken wraps are really good, but if you’re looking for something lighter, there are yogurt cups and smoothies.”

“Thanks, but I’ve never been able to eat after a game. I’ll be hungry in, like, an hour though, right as I’m ready to go to bed.”

“That’s inconvenient.”

“You’re telling me.” Burke sidled closer and sat at the counter on Ryland’s left. “Can I ask? What’s this show-and-tell thing about? Is it something you do every year?”

Ryland polished off his yogurt cup. “We started it this season to create commonalities between players and bring us closer together. It’s supposed to be fun, so when your turn arrives, don’t stress about it. I mean, don’t bring your U14 jockstrap, but don’t bring your power of attorney documents either.”

Burke laughed.

“I shouldn’t bring my divorce papers when my turn comes up, then?” Miles Sheppard, Ryland’s closest friend on the team, asked as he leaned between him and Burke to grab a Gatorade off the counter.

Ryland winced. “Shit, Miles. It’s official?”

“As official as my Pilots contract,” Miles murmured, cracking the Gatorade open.

“That really sucks, man,” Burke said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t get married, kid,” Miles said as he headed for the locker room. “It’s all downhill from there.”

Ryland stood and tossed his empty cup in the garbage bin. “Don’t listen to him. He’s understandably jaded.”

“And you’re not?” Burke asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I don’t think I am. But I’ve also never been divorced.”

Ryland’s phone chimed an alert and he picked it up off the counter. A social media notification announcing that Kyle Dabbs had made a new post.

Yes, he’d set alerts for Dabbs’ socials.

No, he wasn’t embarrassed about it.

Biting back a grin, he clicked it open, then nearly choked on his own spit.

In the photo, Dabbs, wearing jeans and a tight blue T-shirt that showed off his biceps, sat on the front stoop of the townhouse he rented with Bellamy. He held one of his tiny Pomeranians in his arms; the other sat by his side.

There was nothing inherently sexy about the photo—in fact, its homeyness had Ryland’s gut clenching with envy—but Dabbs just looked so comfortable and content and adorable, if a built six-foot-four ginger-haired and -bearded hockey player could be labeled as adorable.

The caption was equally cute: Castle and Cosmo say hi.

If heart eyes were real, Ryland would be sporting them right now.

He screenshotted the photo and texted it to Dabbs.

Ryland:

Was this thirst trap your idea?

Dabbs:

The dogs’. They love showing off their guns.

Surprised into laughter at the unexpected quip, Ryland quickly texted back.

Ryland:

Do they get their own page in the annual Vermont Trailblazers calendar?