Page 31 of Rinkmates

I raise my eyebrows at him. Is he insane?

There are house rules when it comes to the bus or plane. The captains, coaching staff, and veterans usually claim the front seats. It’s our time to discuss our team’s play while our rookies get the seats near the lavatory. We’ve all been there.

A few seats behind them, there are rows of players in comfortable leather seats. Some of us passed out still wearing their headphones. Others watch a movie. Some play cards but everyone knows their place. Expect Shane.

“Ohhh, Shiny, ready to meet your maker?” Derek calls from the back, and everyone cocks their head, ready for some fun to interrupt our dense day. We may be like family on this bus, but that means we fight like brothers too. And it’s been a few rough weeks since my lawsuit.

“Just wanted to chat about that viral video,” Shane says and refuses to move an inch. Instead, he wriggles his eyebrows at me.

“What viral video.”

“The one with that hot blonde.”

“What’s your point?” I mutter.

“You know, I was just wondering if she’s as good as she looks.” His tone is dripping with innuendo.

“You better shut your mouth,” I say, and I notice Jayce already gripping my arm.

A dark shadow looms over Shane’s body. “Move.”

Within seconds, the corners of Shane’s mouth, which were once turned up in that stupid smile of his, droop into a frown. He startles, realizing whose seat he’s been occupying. When his eyes meet with Colton King’s silver gaze, Shane jumps up to his feet.

There’s nothing amusing about King staring at you like that.

Standing at a towering six feet, five inches, and covered in so many tattoos that it looks like a tribal coloring book had exploded on him.

We often joke about him being our Russian assassin with that buzz cut and his actual name being Koltun Kirillov. We wanted to name him Killer but since his surname meanslordorruler—or whatever—in Russian, Mercer prefers we call him King instead. His nickname went so far that it’s written on his jersey now.

“Move,” Colton says again, his stare boring into Shane.

Shane nods, glancing at me nervously before running back to his seat right next to the toilet. Colton shakes his head in disbelief and slumps down.

“I hate fucking rookies,” he mutters, and I can’t help but smirk.

We all know if Shane keeps up this attitude, he’ll end up locked in the bathroom. But knowing our idiots, someone probably clogged the toilet before.

I hear Malcolm’s voice from the rear. “What’s up with that girl, Ri? She really moved in with you?”

Other teammates chime in. They howl, and through the smudged bus window, I see their hands gesturing wildly, mimicking hearts and blow jobs.

Jayce, my best friend and captain, gives me a playful punch on the arm, smiling knowingly. Even Colton’s chuckling from the side.

“Yeah, how about you tell us, Ri.” Colton smiles, and even though I love the fact this guy only smiles like this when it comes to me and the stupid things I do, I hate Shane for bringing up that topic.

I mutter a sarcastic “Thank you” to Colton and Jayce, causing them to snicker even more. Of course they know the truth. They know about our contract, the promise I made to do better. I trust them with my life. They won’t spill the secret, but the rest of the team can’t know. It’s safer that way.

“Riley, come on. Who’s the girl?” Derek leans forward from behind.

Derek Devereaux is our goalie, and even though we get along, it’s only because we have to. He’s something like my rival, since he loves to point out that he made it in the NHL all by himself and I, well, didn’t. A tale as old as time.

“Nobody important,” I tell him, trying to appear nonchalant, catching Jayce and Colton exchanging grins.

“Maaaan. So you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell us? Don’t worry, we won’t tell her about all the other girls you sleep with during away games. We promise,” Malcolm insists.

“Fuck off, Malcolm,” I grunt.

I hear Mercer sigh, and I rub the bridge of my nose. This is going to be my living hell.

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