Page 18 of Trick Shot (Bainbridge Hockey #4)

Pete

“ B rick’s not coming home. I’m telling you, Pete, it’s been like this all week,” Ollie says, throwing his hands up in dismay.

“Dude, you’ve only been back for two days.

I promise that you will see our goalie again,” I tell him, settling into my usual seat at our kitchen table and popping open the cooler I brought over from Gramma’s.

I stocked it with a couple beers because our season starts back up in a few days, so tonight we’re all enjoying the last few hours of our holiday break.

Well, not all of us, which is why Ollie’s pissed.

“I went to all this trouble,” Ollie bitches, sweeping his hand across the kitchen for effect, “and no one gives a shit.”

“That’s not true, Olls,” Rosco says, stepping into the room and setting a plate on the counter. “I will always give you shit.”

Ollie flips him off, and Rosco just laughs, helping himself to a beer. The tell-tale hiss of a bottle opening is like a siren’s song that sends Mickey running in here with Dean-o on his heels. I pass beverages in their direction, and the glare Dean gives me barely registers.

“Save it,” I tell him, putting a stop to his whining before it starts. “I’m not risking the teaching cert I don’t even have yet just so your underage ass can drink a beer.”

He grumbles but pops the top on his soda can and guzzles it down.

“Where is everybody?” Rosco asks, and I groan internally, knowing his question will inevitably send my linemate into a spiral once again.

“That’s a good fucking question,” Ollie says, right on cue. “Will’s on his way back, Van’s laid up at Josie’s, Kersey’s doing whatever Sophie tells him to, as usual, and JT is god-knows-where. He never calls, he never writes. I thought I’d make a nice meal we could all enjoy together?—”

“Dude, you ordered pizza and opened a couple bags of chips,” Dean says, clearly unimpressed with Ollie’s prowess in the kitchen.

“Yes, Dean, yes, I did. I got a pizza with green olives and pepperoni just for you because you love that shit for some inexplicable reason. And I got Will the honey barbecue chips he likes so damn much, and I got a fucking paper cut opening Mickey’s dill pickle chips.

I even got kale chips for the greatest goalie who ever lived, but he’s never fucking home anymore.

But you’re right, Deano, as always. I didn’t make the dough from scratch or pickle the cucumbers myself, so it means nothing to you fuckers. ”

“Did you get any cinnamon twists?” Dean asks, proving the point that freshmen are oblivious.

Rosco stands and reaches for the tray he brought in, saving Dean’s life in the process. “Holland make cookies,” he tells us, a wide grin on his face.

“Did she lace them with arsenic?” Ollie asks, tossing his oven mitts aside and letting his hand hover over the platter of sweets. “Because that woman is not your biggest fan.”

“She changed her mind,” Rosco says, his smile still in place.

The room goes quiet as we all stare at our teammate.

“The cookies are fine, I swear,” he says, plucking one off the plate and popping it into his mouth.

“Holland and I were best friends when we were little kids. She never hated me,” he says, “we just drifted apart. We didn’t have much in common anymore.

But then we got to the vacation house before the rest of our families did, and it turns out we have a lot more in common than we thought.

” He stuffs another cookie in his face instead of elaborating, but we can all read between the lines.

“Hold up,” Dean says. “Holland’s the girl who picked you up to go to the airport right before break?” When Rosco nods, Dean keeps going. “The one who told you to hurry your ass up or she’d gladly leave without you?”

Mickey looks up from his phone for a second and huffs out a laugh. “No way I’m touching those cookies. Holland hates you as much as her bestie hates Santos.”

“Pay attention, Mick. The cookies are safe because Holland’s not gonna poison her boyfriend and cut off her daily supply of D,” Ollie corrects. “Besides, nobody hates anybody as much as Claire hates Pete.”

I wince at Ollie’s casual mention of Claire’s disdain for me, but also at his wording, so I’m gratified when Rosco reaches over to smack Ollie on the back of the head.

“Damn, Rosco,” Ollie says, whistling low. “This shit is for real?”

“As real as it gets,” Rosco confirms, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, it’s only been a couple weeks, but it just feels right.

And we’ve known each other literally since we were babies, so it’s just easy, comfortable.

But still hot as hell. To those of you who haven’t taken the plunge,” he says, eyeing Mickey, Ollie, and me, “I highly recommend it. And you,” he says, looking at Deano.

“No one knows how the hell you landed Anabelle, but keep doing it, man, because there’s no better feeling than finding your person. ”

“Amen to that,” Dean agrees, clinking his empty soda can with Rosco’s beer.

Rosco looks around the table and notices the flush on my cheeks. We’ve been friends since freshman year, so he knows all my tells. He’s about to call me out, I can feel it, when Mickey tosses his phone on the table and mutters a curse.

“You okay?” I ask, even though it’s clear he isn’t. Mickey’s a man of many emotions, but anger isn’t usually one of them.

“Yeah, why are you pissed at your grandma?” Ollie asks, holding up Mickey’s phone to reveal the name Birdie .

“The hell?” Mickey’s face morphs from frustration to confusion. “Who said anything about my grandma?”

Ollie rolls his eyes and points to the phone as Mick swipes it back. “Birdie’s your grandma,” he says, like he’s supremely annoyed he has to explain the obvious.

“Uh, Birdie’s my sister, dumbass. Why would you think that’s my grandmother?”

Ollie blinks. “What the hell kind of name is Birdie?”

Mick sighs while I hold in a laugh. “Jesus, Oliver , it’s a nickname for Bridget. And who the hell calls their grandma Birdie?”

Ollie shrugs, like the answer is so clear he can’t believe Mickey even has to ask. “Birdie, as in old bird.”

My mouth hangs open. “Pretty sure I wouldn’t eat for a week if I called Gramma an old bird,” I say, rubbing my jaw .

“Do you not like your grandma?” Dean asks, tilting his head to the side like the concept is bizarre, because, frankly, it is.

Once again, Ollie shrugs. “She’s better than my father, but not by much.” His phone buzzes and his face lights up. “Pizza’s here!”

We all shake our heads as he walks toward the front of the house. Rosco opens his mouth, but we freeze as Mickey’s phone starts making noise.

“Bran? Brannon, are you there?”

“Shit,” Mickey murmurs, scooping up the phone. “Right here, Birdie. Are they back?”

Ollie walks in with a tower of pizzas as Mickey stalks out to the living room. There’s no doubt that guy’s gonna pace a hole in the rug, but he looks pretty stressed, so I decide to let him talk to his sister and work it out.

We descend on the pizzas and conversation picks up again, like we’ve all silently agreed to give Mickey his space.

“Alright,” Ollie says around a mouthful of veggie pizza, “name one thing you did over break…and…go.” He points his finger at Rosco, who smiles broadly before shoving a slice of pepperoni and sausage into his mouth.

Rosco chews, swallows, and wipes his fingers on a paper napkin. “Hmmm…”

“Keep it PG,” Ollie warns. It’s out of character for the guy who has a MyFans account, but Ollie’s in a mood tonight.

“I went skiing,” Rosco answers, grabbing another slice from the box.

“I saw a Broadway show, and I stayed awake the whole time,“ Dean says, pride shining through every word.

“I got kicked out of a bar in Jersey,” Ollie says plainly before pointing his finger at me .

“I swam with dolphins,” I say, because I can’t very well tell them I had sex with the one woman on campus who hates my guts.

“I win that round,” Ollie declares. “Okay, worst part of holiday break…Deano, you start.”

“Meeting my mom’s new boyfriend. Dude’s a dick.”

“I hear that,” Olli says, nodding. “My mom’s husband is a dick.”

Deano squints, puzzling out Ollie’s words. “Aren’t your folks married?”

“Yep. And family time was the worst part of my break. Rosco, you’re up.”

“Hmmm… my brother walked in on me jerking it while I was on a call with Holland, so…that sucked. More for him, honestly.” Rosco chuckles as he reaches for another beer.

When Ollie points in my direction, I take a deep breath.

“Ma’s tests came back inconclusive,” I say, knowing these guys will take the news as hard as I did.

“On one hand, her counts aren’t scary low like they were.

But something’s not right and the docs aren’t sure what it is.

So, I’m running her back this week to be a pin cushion.

She’s tough as hell, I’ll say that much. ”

Just like I figured, the guys are solemn. Yeah, they’re crazy and foul-mouthed most of the time, but they’re the best guys I know, and they can be serious when the situation calls for it. Proving my point, Rosco raises his bottle.

“To Mama Santos, may she keep kicking ass.”

Ollie and Deano join in, and Mickey pokes his head in the doorway and lifts his bottle, too.

“Okay, so no winners on that round because you can’t win at losing. Last one…best part of holiday break. I’ll go first. Getting kicked out of the bar sucked, but hooking up wi th the bartender before I got booted was pretty fucking hot.”

Rosco shoots a look at Ollie. “I thought we were keeping this PG? If anything goes, then, I second your answer. The best part of my holiday break was the sex.”

“God bless mistletoe,” Deano says, grabbing another slice. “I third that answer,”

Ollie points finger-guns in my direction “Santos,” he says, drawing out my last name. “What was the best part of your break?”