Page 9 of One Pucking Wish

I order a third beer because… I can. The two-beer rule is a self-imposed guideline, not a hard and fast rule. I have a feeling that this night will be long, so one more bottle is warranted.

When we arrived at Frank’s, the mood was low, but it doesn’t take long for everyone to be in good spirits. The conversations morph from depressing defeat to upbeat and jovial, as the guys normally are. Personality-wise, I’m definitely the most dull on the team, and I wear that badge with pride. If I’m being honest, I play with a bunch of idiots. Yet somehow each one of them seems to make their idiocy endearing. They have a way of making me feel at ease and accepted. They’re my family, and despite being opposite of them all—they are the family I choose. I can’t think of a better group of humans.

I’ve never been good with feelings, and I haven’t vocalized any of this, but I feel it, and the connection I have with this group is so strong, it’s undeniable. The first eighteen years of my life were pretty awful, but sometimes I can’t help but think that the universe is making up for it with this chapter. Tonight’s game aside, how many people can say they’re living their ultimate dream with coworkers they cherish like family? It’s pretty cool.

And, shit… that third beer is going to my head. I’m never this emotional, even in the safety of my own mind.

Giving my head a shake, I refocus on the conversation at hand.

“I just think it needs to be more than a once-a-year thing,” Max states. “I can’t wait until next year’s bye week. I’m dreaming about them, for God’s sake.”

A boom of laughter sounds.

Bash shrugs. “It’s not like I’ll only make them once a year. I would make them at other times and bring them in. I’m just busy.”

I realize they’re lamenting over our second annual cookie competition at the resort we rented in Texas last month. Admittedly, Bash, our two-time winner, can bake a damn good cookie. This year, he entered with some chocolate and mint chip recipe he created. The cookies were incredible.

The competition started a couple of years ago at the bye week in Barbados. I don’t remember how it came to be. One minute, we were all standing around talking, and the next, we were catching Ubers to the local supermarket for ingredients… well, they were. I don’t bake. Bash made a chocolate chip cookie that was gooey and delicious with mini-chips that year, winning the competition and earning his team nickname, Cookie Monster, which we love to shorten to Cookie. He hates it. We find it hilarious.

Jaden leans in. “What do you mean you don’t have time? You live alone with no pets or girlfriend. When you’re not on the ice, you have all the time in the world. Bake us some damn cookies, Cookie.”

Bash rolls his eyes. “Despite what you may think, I do have a life outside of this team.”

“Doing what?” Beckett questions.

Bash avoids eye contact with Beckett and clears his throat. “I don’t know. Hanging out with other friends.”

Being the quiet one of the group, I’m somewhat of an observer, and I get the feeling that Bash is nervous.

“What friends?” Cade asks.

Bash shrugs. He moves the toe of his tennis shoe against a spot on the floor. “Just friends. As stated, I have friends outside of you guys.”

I don’t doubt that’s true. As the youngest member of the team, I’m sure he still keeps in contact with some of his college buddies.

“Well, tell these friends you’re busy and make us some cookies. I’m dreaming about them, dude.” Jaden takes a swig of his beer.

“I’ll do my best,” Bash responds.

“That’s all I ask.” Jaden grins.

Cade’s thumbs move across the screen of his phone. He puts his phone in his back pocket and addresses the group. “Settle up with the bartender. We need to get back to the plane. I guess a storm is coming in, so Coach wants us in the air as soon as possible.”

Penny rejoins our group. “Let’s go, boys. We have to head out.”

The guys disperse to pay their tabs.

“Tell Cade I’m outside grabbing us a car,” Iris says to Penny.

“Okay, I’ll be right out,” Penny answers.

The guys head out of the bar. Only Penny, Jaden, Max, and me are left.

“What’s taking so long?” Penny eyes the bar where Jaden is still paying his tab.

Max chuckles. “You know Jaden. The guy can talk anyone’s ear off. Go ahead and go. We’re right behind you.”

Penny’s squinted stare darts between Max and me, uncertain.

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