Puck Drills & Quick Thrills (CU Hockey 5)

“It’s not bribery when you’ve already given out the assignment. This is taking him up on his gratitude.”

“He has nothing to be grateful for. Asher either does the assignment, or he doesn’t.”

“Man, you’re a stubborn prick sometimes.” Dave’s insult is heavy with affection as he rubs his beard, clearly thinking. His eyes suddenly light up, and it puts me on my guard. “I’ve got it.”

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no, hear me out. Actually, this could be perfect.”

“If you think it’s perfect, it definitely isn’t.”

“You need a date to the reunion, right?”

I’m regretting asking, in a moment of pathetic drunkenness, whether his husband would let me borrow him for the night. “Not going.”

“What? You have to go. This is your Pretty Woman moment. Only, instead of shopping bitches, it’ll be your old bullies, and instead of spending a lot of money, you’ll be showing them how hot and successful you are.”

“I don’t think a bunch of former jocks are going to care about how hot I am.”

“That’s where Westly comes in.”

“Oh no.” There is no way in hell I’m asking Westly Dalton to be my date, I don’t care how many IOUs he’s throwing about. “I’m not asking him to go with me. It’s bad enough that he knows about the bullying.”

“You told him about that?”

“It slipped out.”

Dave bats the comment away. “Not him, but imagine the look on those fuckers’ faces if you can show up with an actual NHL star? Surely West would have some buddies.”

“Why the hell would an NHL player want to help me out?”

“Maybe he could call in a favor.”

“It wouldn’t work,” I point out. “No NHL player would want speculation about their sexuality getting out.”

“Ezra Palaszczuk wouldn’t care. He’s openly out, and he and Westly are supposedly tight. If the media is to be believed.”

Well, that’s something I didn’t know. Following sports isn’t my thing, but this Ezra being out gives me a fraction more respect for the sport.

Considering the respect was previously at zero, it doesn’t say much though.

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“No way. Could you imagine? None of those guys made it in hockey, and then here’s little Jasper Dickstain—”

“Fuckstain?”

“—and his hot NHL player date. They’ll be falling at your feet.”

The picture he’s painting is so close to the one I’ve been toying with for a while that I don’t immediately say no.

I’m a petty man.

But I’m also practical, and I know that even if this Ezra is out, and even if he and Westly are the best of friends, there is no way he’d say yes.

A night with me versus a night out in his usual glamorous life?

Dave drapes himself over the table. “Come on, Jas. Get on my level.”

5

Westly

When the tech guy in Burlington tells me he was able to get all the files off Hazel’s computer, I almost jump over his desk and kiss him. I rush home with a hard drive full of Hazel’s photos and a brand-new laptop for her.

When I get there, the lack of smoke and noise is a miracle.

Asher’s cooking dinner, the twins are playing quietly on whatever video game they’re into now, Rhys and Zoe are at the dining table doing their homework, but Hazel’s not with them like she should be.

“Where’s Hazel?” I ask.

“Bedroom,” Asher says. “There’s something going on, but I can’t get it out of her.”

“It’s probably the photos.” I lift the hard drive. “This will cheer her up.”

I turn on my heel to run upstairs, but Rhys catches my eye. His lips are parted like he wants to say something, his gaze like a deer caught in headlights, and when he sees I’ve noticed it, he quickly looks away.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing.” His eyes don’t leave the worksheet in front of him.

“That’s his lying tone,” Asher says from the kitchen.

“Yeah, even I picked up on that.” I sometimes hate how Asher can read the others so well and I struggle. Maybe it’s because I’m so much older than everyone else, or maybe I haven’t been present in their lives enough after I left for college and then the NHL.

Rhys sighs. “I heard some shit at school.”

I don’t even call him on his language. “What?”

Rhys’s mouth opens again, just a tiny bit, but no sound comes out. His gaze ping-pongs between me and the kitchen and back to me again. He lowers his voice. “That Hazel’s a … lesbian. But … that’s definitely not the word they used.”

“What in the f—udge? She’s eleven. Eleven.” It’s too early for this, right? Right?

I can see why Rhys is hesitant. Asher has made no secret of his sexuality, and as for me, I don’t know if the kids are aware of mine or not. I don’t hide it, but I don’t flaunt it either. If any of them have googled me, they’d get a fairly good picture, and if Rhys being unable to look me in the eye is any indicator, I guess he probably suspects or knows.