Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

SAWYER

“Y ou plan on removing your helmet at all today?” Jack tips his head at Archer as we stop mid-practice to take in fluids.

“True. By the time we got to the rink, you were already on the ice, padded up and stretching,” Emmett Richards, one of the team’s longer-standing defensemen, replies.

Archer throws me a look and takes a pull of his drink. I haven’t seen the extent of Shane’s hit, but I’m guessing he landed a good one on him.

With a deep sigh, Archer pulls his helmet off, and Jack’s eyes bug out. Since he didn’t leave practice yesterday with any injuries, it’s obvious he sustained the massive purple bruise along the underside of his jaw overnight.

“The fuck happened? Wait, did you meet up with Shane and some of the other guys last night?” Jack asks.

Nodding, Archer lightly runs a gloved hand across his face. “He was out with a few of the other guys on the farm team. I’d heard they had a few days off in between games and Shane and a couple of others were going out in Williamsburg. I turned up at one of the bars I knew they were hitting and pulled Shane aside.” He clears his throat and winces. “Told him what we’d discussed.” He rolls his eyes at me, still convinced it was bad advice. “And next thing I knew, his fist was in my face.”

Jack reaches across, patting Archer on the shoulder. “I think this season might be your turn taking home the prize for pissing off teammates.”

Archer raises a single brow in response. I mean, Jack isn’t wrong; fucking another dude’s girl isn’t a great move.

“One, he isn’t my teammate, and two, I had no idea it was his girl?—”

Emmett chokes on his water, interrupting Archer mid-flow. “Wait, you slept with Kassie?!”

“See!” Archer points my way. “I was at least right when I said her name began with a K .”

I clap sarcastically, and Emmett shakes his head.

“Damn, man. Boning another guy’s girl. I heard they’re engaged too.”

Archer tips his head back and groans, his dark hair dripping with sweat. “As I was saying, one, he isn’t my teammate, and two, I didn’t know she was with anyone.”

Archer resets his focus on Jack. “Tyler was one of the guys out with them. He said I’d been hanging out with you too long if I was now stealing another guy’s woman.”

On a headshake, Jack squirts his drink into his mouth. “A year on, and Tyler still can’t accept that Kendra not only got an upgrade, but he was never part of the race to begin with.”

“Yeah, well, unlike you and Kendra, I was never interested in getting with Kassie .” Archer accentuates her name for effect. “It was a fuck back at my place, and that was it. You and Kendra were always meant to be.”

I hum in agreement. I can’t argue with that logic. I wouldn’t be shocked if, in the next six months, Jack isn’t down on one knee. The way he looks at Kendra—and she, at him—reminds me a lot of the love I shared with Sophie, something I’ve not experienced since. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of feeling.

“All right, Friday’s game against the Destroyers is going to be hard as fuck—I think we all know that.”

Coach Morgan skates over to where the three of us are standing by the boards.

“Is that your technical analysis?” Jack asks his stepdad, earning a narrowed gaze from Coach.

“It’s exactly as I described it,” he replies, his attention snagging on Archer’s face. “And do I dare ask how you got that?” Coach tips his chin at our goalie, circling the area where Archer’s jaw is bruised.

Archer shakes his head and drinks, probably with a sense of relief that the pictures from the bar fight didn’t get far and that, evidently, Shane and his teammates opted not to report anything either.

Coach clears his throat and pulls a clipboard from under his arm. “In preparation for this Friday’s game, there are some plays I want to work on for the second half of practice. Take a minute to reboot, and then I want you all at center ice, ready to leave it all out there. Richards, I could use you right now though, if you have a second?”

Our defenseman nods quickly.

Coach gives Archer’s face one last look and skates off, Emmett hot on his heels.

Jack turns to me and Archer, setting his bottle rink side. “That reminds me about this Saturday night. Darcy’s flight lands at five p.m., so shall we say seven thirty to give her a chance to make it to ours and get changed?”

“Does she need a ride?” Archer perks up, and I know it’s at the mention of Jack’s sibling.

Jesus, this guy never changes.

Last season was Jack’s first in the NHL, and Darcy traveled to New York to watch on a couple of occasions. It was as obvious back then as it is now that Archer digs Jack’s younger sister.

“No,” Jack drawls, his posh British accent really showing. “She doesn’t need a lift because her brother will be at the airport, waiting for her.”

Archer smiles around the spout on his drink bottle but quickly straightens when he sees the look I’m giving him.

Though his playful grin fades for only a second, and I know exactly what’s coming …

“Talking of rides, are you still going, Sawyer? You know, since Collins can’t make it,” he asks innocently.

I deadpan, “Why would Collins being there or not have any effect on my attendance?”

His playful grin turns devilish. “Oh, you know, just thinking she might need some kind of help getting home.” He pauses and takes another sip of his drink, setting the bottle down. “Or back into your bed,” he says, pushing off the boards to join Coach and the team as they gather at center ice.

* * *

“Last week, I asked on my Stories if you guys had any particular issues with the Road Glide model. The response was overwhelming with a ton of you reporting the cam chain tensioner, especially in older models, such as the one I have here. This is my own bike I refurbed a year ago, and the cam chain needed a full replacement. If your bike isn’t running as smoothly, if it rattles, or if the performance is hindered, I would advise this to be one of the first things you look at since leaving this issue for a long period can lead to severe engine damage.”

“Wait up.”

Jack’s muted voice—along with his knock on my driver’s window—has my head darting in his direction.

Since I don’t have blacked-out windows—un-fucking-fortunately—his attention immediately drops to the cell phone in my hand, the screen lit with Collins, wearing her usual ripped black denim shorts and a rock-themed T-shirt, as she stands from a crouched position next to her bike and looks at the camera.

I’m scrambling to lock the screen when it flies from my hand and across the center console, dropping between the seats in my truck.

Fuck.

I knock my head against the steering wheel and blow out a defeated breath.

He taps again, and without lifting my head, I lower the window for him.

When he remains silent, I turn my head slowly and see his blue eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief I’ve come to expect from this guy.

Obviously fighting back laughter, he clears his throat. “I stayed behind for some extra gym work and saw you still parked up. I was wondering why you were still here …” He rolls his lips together and finally loses it, full-on buckling over in the middle of the players’ parking lot.

He rests a hand on the windowsill, and I’m half tempted to close the window on it.

“Oof …” He pants hard. “Hang on. I need a second.”

I sit back in my seat, folding my arms across my chest as I wait for my—now-former—closest friend to get his shit together.

“Okay, okay. I’m good,” he breathes out. “I was going to ask if you wanted to bring Ezra on Saturday.”

He’s still smirking when he delivers the question, but I choose to ignore it. Maybe Alyssa and Dom would like the night off since they’ll have Ezra over for the game on Friday night.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

Jack nods, his eyes falling to where my cell disappeared a few seconds earlier. “Okay, Kendra wants to know if he’s picky over food?”

I shake my head, grateful that, as a single dad, I’ve never had to deal with that. “No, he’ll be good.”

He nods, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We, errr … ever going to talk about Collins, or do you plan on secretly watching her content for the rest of time?”

I push my head further into the rest, closing my eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He makes a doubtful sound, raising a hand to scratch his neck. “My best guess is you left the locker room around a half hour ago—at least.” He motions to the seat where my phone is buried. “If you’ve been scrolling through her motorcycle page for at least half that time, I’d say there’s everything to discuss.”

Try forty-five minutes and all that time.

“Like I said, there’s nothing to talk about.”

He shakes his head and looks off down the empty lot. “What have you got against following what you want? You’ve been obsessed with her since last Novem?—”

“I’m not obsessed with her,” I snap, shifting my truck into gear since the engine is already running.

Jack runs his tongue across his bottom lip and steps back from my truck, granting me access to drive away.

I don’t move forward, instead gripping the top of the steering wheel with white knuckles. “Listen, I like her, yeah. But I can’t let myself think any further than that. Especially when she isn’t into me.”