Page 69 of Knotted Laces

So, we’ve looped him into our wholenotasshole group.

“You say that as though you didn’t break someone’s hand withyourclapper.”

Huddy’s a modest guy, and he doesn’t have to be.

But, as is his way, he just shrugs and turns the focus to someone else, in this case, complimenting Rome. “Cap’s accuracy is unmatched.” One big shoulder lifts and drops. “If I had a modicum of that…”

See?

Modest.

And smart. Fucker takes college classes for fun.

“Modicum’s a big word, Huddy.”

He just shakes his head, picks up a puck, and gets down to business. But I see that he’s smiling.

Grinning, I scoop up my own puck, get some time in on the ice. It’s a rare commodity in the summer time, and it feels like home just being on the rink. Cold air, crunching skates, the slaps and pings and crashes that are hockey personified.

By the time our hour’s up, I’m sweating and my wrists and forearms ache. There’s nothing that can quite replicate being on the ice…except forbeingon the ice, so it’s good to get out here.

Good to get time just doing what I love, what I know, what feels right.

Athena.

Well, that too, I think with a smirk—or that’s what I’mgoingto do next.

“Ow!” I grunt, finding my face pressed to the wall outside the locker room.

“Sex cave thoughts,” King jokes, easing up on my back so my nose isn’t actually plastered against the concrete. “Gotta get your head in the game, kid.”

That sends a pulse of guilt through me.

Something he sees.

Fuck.

“Cam,” he begins, immediately releasing me.

“What are you and Rory up to today?” I blurt.

“Cam,” he says again, his tone filled with warning.

Danger. Danger.

But, thank fuck, Rome comes down the hall then, discussing something in depth with Huddy.

“I need to talk to Rome,” I say quickly.

King opens his mouth, but I’m already moving, using one of my patented youngest sibling moves to dodge the arm he shoots out.

“Hey.” I’m interrupting, but I don’t have a fucking problem with being a rude fucker—not when it means avoiding the conversation with King. God knows, it’s bad enough that Athena knows everything?—

Bad.

Okay, that’s not fair.

It’s…fine. She knows about the injury and Coach, but that doesn’t mean I want everyone else to know about the bullshit that was fucking with my head.

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