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The hockey house kitchen had never been so quiet.
Dean sat on the counter, icing his bruised fist, while he stared daggers at Logan who sat next to me at the island. Beau and Tucker stood on either side of Dean, leaning against the counter with crossed arms and nervous eyes. It was as if they expected Dean to jump across the kitchen and attack Logan next, which was all very confusing.
Garrett stood behind me, his calloused thumbs pressing comfortingly into my shoulders. Tonight was supposed to be about us–a night to celebrate getting back together with lots of sweaty sex.
But instead, we stood in the kitchen in the kind of silence that made even your own pulse seem too loud.
Dean looked… insane. There’s no nicer way to say it. He looked like an extra from 28 Days Later who just got a drop of zombie blood in his mouth, and now we all had to wait for him to inevitably turn into a blood-thirsty killing machine.
My gaze darted between Dean and Logan, the latter wearing the kind of visible guilt that one would find on a teenager after their parents found their stash.
And look, maybe it’s messy of me, but I had to know.
I needed this night to move on–and I was positive that Dean was overreacting about something. Logan was a golden retriever–he didn’t do things to piss off his best friends, his brothers.
So finally, I cleared my throat. Garrett’s thumbs froze on my skin, and I turned around to shoot him a sheepish grin. Then, turning back to the others, I decided to break the ominous silence.
“For those of us not in the know, can someone explain to me why Dean and Pretty Boy hate each other so much?”
Dean narrowed his eyes at me, a deep frown on full display.
Garrett scoffed. “You think Davenport is pretty?”
I ignored him.
“I mean, seriously,” I continued, speaking to Dean. “Can you fill me in? Because I don’t think anymore Briar hockey players need to be getting into fights, especially not with your season on the line.” Garrett scoffed again. “So… what the hell is going on? You’re usually calm, cool, and collected, like Garrett. Actually, all of you are. You’re like the least toxic group of college athletes that’s ever existed–it’s like you’re fictional characters, truly.”
That earned a snort from Beau and Tucker. Garrett stepped from around me and leaned his elbows on the counter, keeping his attention on my face even though mine was on Dean.
“And look, I know why Garrett did what he did.” I raised a hand from my lap to cover one of Garrett’s, squeezing for reassurance. “And… honestly, I’ll probably tell you guys one of these days. Soon. But for now, just know, Garrett going after… Delaney…” God, it made me nauseous to say his name. Garrett’s hand flipped under mine to press our palms together. I stared into his eyes for a moment. One deep breath. Two. Three. Then I looked around at his teammates–well, and Beau.
“It was justified, is all I’m trying to say. Graham was blindsided and–and honestly, you all probably would have kicked that guy’s ass, too.”
Dean’s face softened. I couldn’t see Logan’s face from my right side, but I could feel his eyes moving between me and Garrett.
I was still the only one talking.
“Yeah, that was a tangent, I guess,” I chuckled awkwardly. I tucked my hair behind my ears and pressed on anyway. “What I’m trying to say is–Dean, you’re not a violent guy. Garrett isn’t a violent guy. None of you are. So what the hell happened between you and Pretty Boy that caused you to fight him at Malone’s? Jules said he’s joining the team, right?”
“Ask Logan,” Dean finally said. His words sounded venomous, and all of his venom was directed at Logan. “Apparently he calls the shots.”
“That’s not fair,” Logan said tiredly. He ran his fingers through his hair looking like all he wanted was to crawl into his bed and sleep for a week. “Dean, man. I’m sorry. And I don’t know about your personal beef with Pretty Boy–”
“Not you, too,” Garrett grumbled.
“But we need to win every fucking game, or we can kiss the Frozen Four goodbye.”
Tucker tipped his head back, closing his eyes. “Or tie. We need to win or tie.”
Beau pointed a finger at Tuck. “Hawks never say ‘tie’. We win.” Despite himself, Dean slapped a hand on Beau’s shoulder in agreement.
“I can’t skate with him,” Dean said with a clenched jaw. “I told you,” he pointed at Logan, “and you,” he pointed at Tuck. “And you went and fucking recruited him anyway.”
“What position does he play?” I asked.
Logan sighed. “He’s a good fucking blueliner.”
Before I could ask what the hell that was, Garrett mumbled next to me, “Right defenseman. He’d be playing opposite Dean, taking Birdie’s position. We need someone strong and fast as shit, like Dean, like Birdie, to protect our net and get the puck back to our side of the ice.”
“And there are no other options?” I looked at Garrett and knew the moment he tilted his head to the side and flattened his lips, there were none. Turning back to Dean, I said, “Are you going to let this drama with him jeopardize the season? Garrett only has two more games on the bench. Then, it’s your dream team back out there again–minus Birdie. And I know losing Birdie fucking sucks. But you, Garrett, Tucker, and Logan are incredible together. Shit, you guys make me like watching hockey. So… how do we handle this? We need to figure out a way for you and this Davenport guy to work together, right? Save the season? Yay Hawks?”
Beau nodded his head enthusiastically as Garrett chuckled and leaned over to press a kiss to my forehead.
“I’m glad Wellsy’s back,” Beau declared. “She’s like Wendy and we’re the Lost Boys.”
“She keeps us in line,” Tucker agreed.
I rolled my eyes with a smile, feigning embarrassment. “Stop it, guys, you’re making me blush.”
Logan stood from the counter then and rounded the island to approach Dean with the kind of caution one would muster to approach a wild animal. With sharp teeth.
Garrett’s large hand moved to my thigh, and I noticed the way he watched his friends with laser focus, like he was ready to put me behind his body if shit hit the fan again.
Tucker and Beau seemed to sense Dean wouldn’t actually attack Logan. They reluctantly stepped away from Dean and moved to the other side of the island, crowding the tiny space between me and Garrett.
“Dean,” Logan started. Dean’s nostrils flared in response, but he kept his mouth shut. “We have a shot, man. The season isn’t over–we have a chance to come back. And wouldn’t this be the sweetest fucking comeback story in existence? The kind of shit people talk about for years, long after we’re gone from Briar.”
Dean’s jaw relaxed just enough to be noticeable. He blinked at Logan, silently saying, go on.
“It’s not gonna be easy. Without G out there, the O line will need to work our asses off. But we can do it. As long as we’ve got our D holding us together. But without Garrett and a good right defenseman to work with you, we’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell.”
Dean and Logan stared at each other for a few heartbeats while Garrett, Tucker, Beau, and I watched with bated breath.
Dean finally closed his eyes and groaned, taking the ice off his hand and throwing it into the sink. “I fucking hate that guy.”
“I get it.”
“No, Logan.” Dean opened his eyes, looking back at Logan. “I really fucking hate that guy. Like, it’s like Wellsy said about Garrett. How if we knew why he went after that prick Delaney, we’d go after him, too. Well, if you knew why I hated him as much as I do…” He shook his head, blue eyes locked on Logan.
Garrett straightened to his full height and took two steps towards Dean and Logan. “So, why do you hate Davenport so much?”
“Does it have something to do with Summer?” Tucker asked from next to me, and Dean, Garrett, Logan, and Beau all snapped their attention to him. “What? Jules said something about Summer and Davenport, remember?”
“Who’s Summer?” I asked.
Beau answered me from over Tuck’s head. “Dean’s little sister.”
“Oh,” I said. “Big brother business. Got it.”
Dean ran his hands down his face, exasperated but clearly calming down. “It’s not my story to tell. But I’ve got a couple reasons to put that bastard through a wall.”
Just then, my phone began vibrating on the island. I glanced down to see Allie’s contact photo in all her glory, but it wasn’t the time to gossip with my bestie, so I declined the call and typed a quick text.
Hannah: Drama at hockey house. Boys are so emotional. I’ll call you back soon.
The three dots appeared and disappeared a couple times, but she eventually texted me back.
Allie: And we can’t have a woman president. I hate it here.
I laugh-reacted her text, smiling in real time, and put my phone back on the counter. When I looked up, everyone’s eyes were on me.
“What?”
“Was that Allie?” Dean asked. He seemed… nervous? I filed that one away to investigate later. There were other things to worry about–and then I was getting naked in my boyfriend’s bed, goddammit.
“Yeah…?”
Dean swallowed then looked at his feet, his jaw going back to concrete status. Garrett noticed the shift in his demeanor but remained silent. Beau was suddenly interested in tracing the grain of the countertop.
“Okay, is everyone acting weird about Allie now?” I scowled. “Because I’ll fight all of you. I don’t care.”
Garrett’s handsome smile lit up at that, and I relaxed a little.
“We love Allie,” Beau said at a pitch that was a little too high. Dean’s head snapped up, shooting a look at Beau that said, please, shut up.
“No, I love Allie. And I will go fully feral for her. So if her calling or texting me makes anyone in this house act weird again, I’ll be the one getting violent next.”
“Jesus,” Dean moaned. He hopped off the counter with ease, planting two feet firmly in front of Logan. “I need to sleep. I need… time. To cool off. But… I’ll find a way to skate with that pretentious motherfucker.” Logan visibly relaxed. Dean slapped a hand to his chest with a nod, then turned to Garrett and said, “I love you and your crazy ass girlfriend. But I’m a little mad at you right now for fighting that asshole Delaney and putting me in this position.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Garrett replied honestly. “To all of you. I know I fucked up.”
Now I was the one on edge, and I warned everyone with the same menacing tone from earlier, “Don’t go being weird to my boyfriend either.” Garrett snorted at my threat.
“She’s protective,” Dean said under his breath.
“She’s terrifying,” Tucker whispered, Logan and Beau nodding in agreement.
“She’s ninety pounds soaking wet,” Garrett said flatly.
Everyone paused a beat, and then finally, fucking finally, all the guys chuckled. It wasn’t the full bodied laughs you’d usually hear from them, the kind that lived in the walls of this old off-campus house, but it was enough in that moment. The taut muscles and clenched fists had officially left the chat, at least for tonight. And that’s all I cared about at the time.
Dean made his way out of the kitchen. “Boys and Wellsy, I bid you goodnight. Tomorrow we can figure out how to save our season.”
We all remained silent as he disappeared upstairs, and Logan released a breath like he’d been under water for five minutes. “Shit,” he whispered before leaning over the island, laying his entire upper body across the counter. “No one can repeat this to them or I’ll kill you, but I think Jules was right. I fucked up.”
Garrett slapped Logan’s back in a show of comfort. “Nah. I fucked this up. We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t–”
“Okay!” I clapped my hands, smiling brightly. “We’re not doing that! Garrett, stop. Okay? It’s done.” I sat up straighter on the stool and tapped the back of Logan’s head. He groaned in response, but pushed up on his elbows to look at me. “Birdie got hurt before Garrett–before everything that went down, right? Either way, you’d be looking for a new defenseman. And Rogers isn’t there yet, so you had to find someone else. You made the call you thought was best for the team.”
“Could have talked to Dean first,” Tucker said under his breath.
I pointed at him without looking away from Logan. “We’re not doing that. Guys, we’re not wallowing. Come on! Nothing can be changed, right? So… rise up! Briar hockey doesn’t have the reputation it does because the starting line is historically a bunch of whiners. You’re hockey players–and you’re not just good, you’re great. So start acting like it.
Graham, I don’t want to hear anymore sulking from you about the fight. You made a mistake. No one fucking died. You’ll be back on the ice in less than two weeks, and you’re all fully capable of sweeping the division.
And Logan, Dean is a big boy. I don’t know what his deal is with Pretty Boy, but Big Boy will figure it out. Give him the night to lick his wounds and be a little bitch baby, but if Davenport is the only chance you guys have of keeping your defense together, he’ll come around. He wants to win just as badly as everyone else.
Tucker, keep… cooking salmon and having excellent hair. You’re doing great, sweetie.
And Beau… dude, sometimes I forget you don’t even play hockey.”
My speech, which I thought was wonderful, left the kitchen quieter than a graveyard. As four men stared at me with varying degrees of amusement and amazement, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. “Stop staring at me,” I murmured, embarrassed. “I’m trying to help.”
“You give the best pep talks, baby,” Garret offered with a sweet smile.
“She said I have excellent hair,” Tucker grinned, tossing his curls over his shoulder like a supermodel.
Logan, Garrett, and Beau lost it then, laughing in a way that reminded me everything would be just fine.
Finally, Garrett said, “Still don’t know how I feel about you repeatedly calling Davenport ‘Pretty Boy.’”
Beau snorted, opening the fridge and grabbing a six-pack of beer. He placed it on the island between all of us, and I watched Garrett smile slightly when I didn’t hesitate to grab a bottle. We all took a couple sips in silence, the funny kind, and then Beau said, “Wellsy called Dean a bitch baby.”
“She called me sweetie,” Tuck batted his lashes in Garrett’s direction.
Garrett flicked his bottle cap at Tucker but I could tell from the sparkle in his eyes that he was genuinely happy in that moment.
“You’re about to hear all the fun names she calls me when I get her upstairs,” he smiled.
“Okay,” I laughed, mortified. “Let’s stop there.”
“What? You’re loud. It’s fun.”
I threw my bottle cap at him, but he caught it and everyone laughed at me.
Logan pondered, tilting his bottle from side to side. “If Davenport is Pretty Boy, and Dean is Big Boy, then is G… Good Boy?”
“Oh my god.” I covered my face with my hands while their snickers echoed in the kitchen.
At least it wasn’t quiet anymore.