Her text ended with, Exhausted and headed to bed. Miss you.
It didn’t bother me that she didn’t stay up to watch the game on TV. While I know she’s a Vengeance fan—hello, she’s employed by the organization—I also know she’s a Jett Olsson fan—she’s told me as much and on more than one occasion—I don’t have any expectations that she’ll be glued to every game. Emory has her own life. She has obligations far more important than me, and I’m okay with that. I also hate that she carries so much on her shoulders, so I’m glad she’s getting a good night’s sleep tonight.
“Another beer?” I’m nudged in the shoulder and when I turn, I see Jim standing there holding a fresh one toward me. I accept without qualms as Dominik Carlson had arranged for transportation home for all of us this evening.
Not that we needed it.
We know the dangers of driving drunk and there’s not one of us who won’t take an Uber or Lyft home. It was a nice gesture by him though, and it was his way of acknowledging how special it was that Baden was out in society and socializing again. The fact he is continually improving is just icing on the cake.
I twist the cap off the bottle, holding it in my hand until I can get close to a garbage can. We’re currently in Erik’s basement man cave which boasts a big-screen TV, pool table, and vintage video games like Pac Man, Centipede, and Donkey Kong. He had added an elevator several months ago so Blue’s brother Billy could have full access to the entire house. Prior to the elevator, he had to drive his motorized chair around the backyard and down a sloping hill to get to the basement doors.
This lowest level of the house is large enough to handle a rowdy hockey team drinking beers—despite the fact we lost to Pittsburgh tonight—but we were all given strict instruction to keep the decibels down as Erik’s pregnant wife, Blue, was upstairs sleeping. While we weren’t whispering to each other, it’s safe to say this is just about the quietest this team has ever been when gathered together.
Doesn’t matter though. We’re all having a great time, made more so by the fact that Baden is having a great time. I think back to the initial weeks after his injuries, and how bleak everything looked. He was utterly defeated, and I never thought I’d see him smile again.
As I look at him, sitting in his wheelchair with Wes standing beside him and about five other teammates surrounding him—everyone laughing and engaged in energetic conversation—I know that he’s going to be okay.
No matter what… Baden will be okay.
“I’m heading out after this one,” Jim says as I hold my bottle out and we tap necks. “That early practice is going to be hell on me tomorrow if I don’t get at least a few hours of sleep.”
“I hear you, old man,” I tease.
While no player on a professional hockey team could ever be considered old in spirit or body, it’s fun to tease Jim as one of our veteran players.
“How’s life treating you?” he asks genially, completely ignoring my jab. I’m sure it’s because he hears it all the time and it’s lost the shine of humor.
“It’s good,” I reply.
Jim’s face transforms as he studies me. At first, he frowns, but then he tips his head to the side and his lips curl in a knowing smile. “Oh my God… you’re in love.”
“I am not in love,” I immediately deny.
No way.
Not even close to happening.
Jim shrugs. “What can I say? I’m an old married man who revels in spending the rest of my life with Ella. Maybe you’re not quite in love, but you are definitely, very deeply in like.”
Now, that I can’t argue with.
“In fact,” Jim drawls, his smile turning slightly evil, “I heard a rumor that Dominik busted you kissing Emory Holland in her office.”
My eyes flare in surprise. No one has said a word about that, so I assumed Dominik kept that private. He’s not a gossip. He’s a billionaire and men like him have no need to gossip.
“I think he told Willow and Willow told Dax,” Jim says, noting the confusion in my expression.
Well, in fairness… that’s not exactly gossiping. That’s Dominik telling his wife, who told her brother, who happens to be a member of the Vengeance. Now, I can totally see Dax spreading that around like wildfire, and my eyes drift across the room to where he’s playing a game of pool with Legend.
Asshole.
But not really. I don’t care if anyone knows I’ve got a thing for Emory. I mean, they already know since I made a fool of myself that first time she walked into the team auditorium and my tongue fell out of my mouth.