Page 25 of Rookie Recovery

And, not being big-headed, but he was into me, too. He just didn’t want to admit it. He probably wasn’t looking for anything serious, which was … good. It was good. Because neither was I. I think.

But I got the impression that Jamie was a guy with a lot of pent-up frustrations. His brow was always furrowed, his jaw always clenched, and if he didn’t stop grinding his molars, all that beautiful American dentistry would’ve been for nothing.

He could do with the release just as much as I could.

We had been scrimmaging all morning and most of the afternoon, and it was all going great-ish until Aaron called it off to get lunch.

“MacKenzie’s getting hangry, and Bowie’s mind’s clearly on his stomach,” he’d said. I didn’t bother to correct him, to tell him where my thoughts had really been.

“Shit, you should have seen MacKenzie’s face when you dangled him at the blue line,” Zac said to me, playfully pushing his ride or die, Aaron, aside to drape his arm over my shoulders as we bundled off the ice and walked down the short, padded corridor to the locker room.

“I would pay good money to see that again,” said Aaron, stealing back his bestie by grabbing him and pinning him against the wall with his hips. He butted their helmets together.

I pulled my own helmet off and shook out my sweaty hair.

Rowan shoulder checked me lightly, his face all hot, angry caveman. “Only reason you’ve still got your teeth is because you’re on my team now.”

“Cheers for that,” I said, heaping on the Britishness like sugar into burnt coffee. “Never let it be said that you, Rowan MacKenzie, are not the kindest, most considerate man in all of North America.”

Rowan laughed and punched my bicep.

“Those two.” I motioned my head backwards to Aaron and Zac still play-fighting—play-fucking?—by the gate. “They together?”

Rowan shot them a glance and offered me a knowing smile as we crossed into the locker room. He made a noncommittal “Meh” sound and pulled his shoulders up. “Aaron’s straight.”

The look on Rowan’s face belied just how much he believed in that statement. I followed him to his cubby because I could tell he had more to say on the matter.

Rowan punched his locker open. Huh, people actually did that. “Aaron’s the prom king type, right? Well, he had this highschool girlfriend, until about two, three years ago. They were together for about a decade. He proposed. Probably because everyone expected him to, but she said no. Moved to Arizona or some shit to be with another guy.”

“That’s shit,” I offered helplessly.

Rowan shrugged again, sat on the bench and started hacking at his laces. “Think it was one of those ‘over before it’s over’ type of relationships. He wasn’t too beat up about it.”

“Zac helped him heal?” I said in a wink-wink nudge-nudge way.

Rowan caught his smile between his teeth and raised his eyebrows. “They’ve been friends since middle school. Apparently, that’s why they’re so close. Pretty sure Zac wants something more than friends, but we’re all just sort of waiting for Aaron to—” He cut himself off as the pair in question barrelled into the locker room, helmets in one hand.

“Who are you two gossiping about?” Aaron said, sliding into the cubby next to Rowan.

“The doc,” Rowan said without missing a beat.

“Right, you and Sul have some sort of”—Aaron looked at me—“unresolved sexual tension.”

Rowan smoothed out his top lip with his forefinger and thumb as though he was flattening a smile.

“Yeah, what’s going on with you two?” Zac asked. He’d pulled his jersey and shoulder pads off and was now stripping away his black base layer.

I played it cool. Totally chill. So fucking chill. “He’s just soooooo hot.”

Way to go, Archie.

“I mean,” JJ chimed in from across the locker room, “I have a wife and three kids and even I know the doc is a good-looking man.”

“Right?” I whined. I started unlacing my skates. “He told me not to go back to his office unless I have an actual injury.”

“And how many ‘injuries’ have you had so far?” Rowan asked, doing air quotes.

I puffed out my cheeks. “Oh, about six. He didn’t buy my hamstring sprain, or when I said I pulled my … these ones.” I pointed to my side.

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