“Okay, but if you change your mind, just text me.”
“I will. Thank you, Marc.”
“You’re welcome.”
We hang up, and I walk inside. The hostess helps me find the guys. I slide into the booth next to Noah.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. You know how it is. A few minutes talking to me can make anyone’s day better.”
EJ and Ian laugh while Noah shakes his head at me.
“So, how’s North Carolina treating you, Bruiser?” Noah asks.
“It’d be better if my girl would see me.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Your girlfriend lives in North Carolina?”
He nods. “I can’t exactly call her my girlfriend, but yeah, she lives there.” He takes a deep breath. “She just doesn’t know I do yet.”
EJ, Noah, and I exchange a glance. He’s been here a year come February. How does she not know?
“Long complicated story, boys.”
The waitress appears to place our food in front of us. When a big bowl of pasta is set before me, I hook an arm around Noah’s neck for just a moment.
“See? I knew you were my best friend, Rams.”
He shoves me away. “I have no fucking clue why we’re friends.”
“Because your fiancée would break up with you if we weren’t friends. I’m her favorite Rebel, remember?”
“You guys are fucking weird,” EJ says.
“It’s him,” Noah says, flicking his thumb at me.
Who cares if it’s me? No one realizes that my phone is blowing up in my pocket and I’d bet anything it’s my father again. No one realizes the pail carrying the responsibility, which too often feels like a burden, is leaning drastically to one side.
“Those fuckers are hitting hard,” I grumble as Noah and I plop our asses on the bench after just finishing our shift.
“Need a break to recover?” he laughs.
Our eyes are on the ice, watching Things One and Two do their thing. Thing Two rushes toward the goalie, but at the last second, makes a pass to his brother. A flick of his wrist sends the puck soaring. It looks like it goes across the goalie’s chest, bounces off, and there’s Thing Two to gobble up the rebound. A second later, the entire bench is standing to celebrate the goal.
We needed this. The past few games have been rough to say the least. Right now, it’s the second period and the score is five to one in our favor. We’ve spent so much time in their zone that Eric Kelly, the goalie in net tonight, could take a nap if he wanted.
We bump fists with the guys and one face-off later, we’re headed into the locker room for intermission.
“Don’t get comfortable, boys,” Coach Mike’s voice resounds. “A lead does no one any good if they can’t keep it.”
He’s right. We don’t want to feel good about our lead, which could cause us to slack off, lose our momentum, and next thing we know, we’ve lost the game. It’s happened before. It happens all the time.
My body is already sore from all the hits those bastards have laid on me tonight. It’s going to feel even better to jump back in and play tomorrow in Arizona. Maybe when I get home, I can introduce Elizabeth to some of our stretches and make her do them with me. Just to watch her.
Coach is discussing tweaks he wants us to make, so I push Elizabeth out of my mind to listen. Those twenty minutes always seem to fly by. Today is no different. I wish I could hit them as hard as they’re hitting me, but that’s not our game. We’re physical, but speed is our best strength. Five minutes in, and it seems like they’re slower than the period before. This could work for us.
It does.