“I can’t believe you’re leaving us,” Bane says. “You and I are the only single dudes in our group. I’m going to be such an outsider.”
Tacker, ever the leader, employs a good measure of wisdom. “Enjoy being single, Bane. Because when love decides to hit you, there’s no going back.”
Jett laughs and adds his own advice. “Yeah, and you also have to stop banging all those puck bunnies.”
Bane grimaces. “No way I’m ready to stop doing that yet.”
We laugh. It tends to be one of the perks of being a professional athlete. Women throw themselves at you.
Not that I’ve experienced that lately. Sex has been a nonissue in my life. For many months, I was simply incapable due to my injuries. Once I started to recover, living in a hospital and then a rehab center really impinged on my opportunities. Thereafter, I spent every bit of spare energy conditioning myself to get better and didn’t have time to get laid.
Now that my legs are working again, I’m assuming my dick will remember what to do if the opportunity presents itself. Somehow, I don’t think that’s on my horizon. I have a feeling I’m going to be busy in my new job, and there won’t be time for anything else.
Legend clears his throat and lifts his glass. “I’d like to make the first toast of the evening to Baden. I don’t think anyone will disagree that he has been the glue holding this team together. Not only is he our most prized clutch player but even his recovery has brought us closer than ever.”
Damn it, I was afraid heartfelt toasts were on the agenda, and they aren’t without effect on me. But Legend isn’t finished.
He holds his glass higher. “You’re a fucking awesome goalie. I believe you’re going to be an awesome coach. You have that one quality that is absolutely necessary, and that is inspiration. The ability to create hope and motivate. The Titans are a lucky organization, and any goalie you coach is going to flourish, I guarantee it. We’re going to miss you, buddy.”
All the men voice their agreement, and we sip whatever drink we’re holding.
And so it goes for the next hour. I take the smallest of sips and manage to stretch my drink. The toasts get longer and sappier, and I love every minute of it.
But unfortunately, there comes a time when I have to call an end to the party. I have to leave in the morning, and I still have packing to do.
It takes another fifteen minutes after I announce my need to depart for more hugs, handshakes, backslaps, and a hard slap on my ass from Jett. It’s Riggs, though, who walks me out to my car.
I pause at the driver’s door of my Escalade after unlocking it. While my friendship with Riggs has only deepened over the past several weeks, he’s the one I’ll miss the most. I think it’s because we have such an easy time talking to each other. He reminds me of Wes, and I’m fortunate to have him in my life.
I turn to face my friend, and he asks, “You need a ride to the airport tomorrow morning?”
I shake my head. “I have to be there super early, and I don’t want to impose. I’ll take an Uber.”
Riggs doesn’t argue, and I appreciate it. I wouldn’t let him change my mind, anyway, and we both know it’s not a matter of imposition. I want to say my goodbyes today.
“Thank you for helping me come to the right decision.” I hold out my hand, and he shakes it, then pulls me in for a bro hug.
Riggs chuckles when he releases me. “I’m glad you think it’s the right decision. If it’s not, I’m gonna feel like shit.”
My hand reaches for the door, but I freeze when Riggs asks, “Are you going to look Sophie up?”
Sophie Winters… the woman I rescued in the attack.
I frown, looking at him in question. “Why would I?”
Riggs frowns back at me, the lines in his forehead deepening. “Why would you not? You two shared a horrible experience. She lives in Pittsburgh. You’re the type of guy who checks in on people. I just assumed you would.”
To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it. I’ve had so much on my plate, I’d forgotten she even lived in Pittsburgh.
I’ve certainly thought about Sophie as the months have ticked by and I’ve grown stronger. She came to visit me not long after I was attacked, and it was horrible. I didn’t want to talk to her, and I’m quite sure I scared her off. She’s never attempted to contact me since, and I’ve never tried to reach out to her.
But maybe I should. She was doing a photo lineup of the same suspects I looked at today. If she’s able to identify even one of them, we might be well on our way to putting all of this to rest. Detective Gilmore seems to think they’ll enter guilty pleas if we have good identifications.