Page 4 of Mr. Broody

The doors open, and Rowan, Kyleigh, and her brother, Conor, come in.

“It’s about time you realize it. I’ve got Henry next.” Conor holds his darts in the air. The darts he bought special last month to try to beat me. He’s got a shiny case and everything.

“You’ve got to play the winner,” Tweetie says, sounding offended.

“Yeah… Henry.” Conor laughs, with Kyleigh and Rowan quickly joining in.

“I hate you, assholes. I’m getting another beer.” Tweetie walks out of the room, closing the door.

“He loves us,” Conor says and turns to me. “Ready to get your ass beat?”

I shake my head. As I take a seat to watch the game on TV, the memory of the first time I played flashes through my mind—Reed taught Jade and me when we were ten years old in the new basement of their house. I’m only this good because I wanted to beat Jade. Even at that age, I wanted to impress her, and that was before the hormones even played a factor in our friendship.

Three

Jade

The girls are huddled together and whispering when I approach with my whiskey. The excuse of not feeling well and needing to leave early is forefront in my mind until they part, and Aubrie leans closer to me.

“Oh my god, it’s Tweetie Sorenson.” She nods toward a table, and there he is—the Falcons’ left wing. Another player who also lives at The Nest. Of course he’s here, he lives upstairs.

“Are you guys hockey fans?” I look around the table.

“We are now.” One girl takes an extra-long look at Tweetie and licks her lips. With his longish wavy blond hair that’s darker at the roots, coupled with his height and his big strong body, he demands to be noticed. He’s one of the older players in the league, meaning he’s way too old for her.

Aubrie laughs. “They wanted to bring me here because of Henry. You know?” She sips her Vesper, the drink our moms love, and gives me a look to say I know how it is when you know a professional hockey player.

Last time I really spent any time with Aubrie was years ago when she was younger and just starting to get into boys. This is an entirely new version of her. Although I get it, and really, I have no idea how close she and Henry might be now. Then again, she clearly doesn’t have his phone number, otherwise she’d call him to say she’s here.

“She’s got a crush on Henry,” one of her friends says.

“I do not!” Aubrie glares at her friend then turns her alarmed eyes my way. “I promise.”

I laugh. “It’s okay, Aubrie. It’s been years.”

I’m not jealous, and Henry would never… well, at least the Henry I knew would never. He could’ve changed over the years. I take a quick peek at Tweetie. All I wonder is how much better he knows Henry than I do now. Could he be Henry’s best friend? Or his biggest confidant? Has Henry ever mentioned me to him?

Tweetie glances my way as I’m about to look back at the girls. Our eyes lock, and he holds my stare with a glint in his eyes as if he’s asking me whether I’m interested. My gaze strays away so I don’t give him the wrong idea and spots Aubrie talking in hushed whispers with her friends.

Then I hear her say, “They broke up. She went to Europe, and he stayed here.”

I sigh and sip my whiskey. “Telling my tragic love story, Aubrie?”

She leans back and cringes. “They asked… sorry.” Her lips twist.

I place my hand on her knee and shake my head. “It’s fine. Yeah, I’ve known Henry Hensley since he was seven. We were best friends. We were lovers. And now we’re nothing.”

All the girls groan and look at me as if I just told them that true love doesn’t exist. I really shouldn’t let my cynical side show.

“Is it someone’s birthday?” Tweetie interrupts us, approaching our table and eyeing Aubrie’s birthday sash.

“Mine!” Aubrie wiggles in her seat with lust-filled eyes for Tweetie.

Hell no. She will not be going anywhere with him. He’d better back off. This is exactly why Chelsea sent me, and I’m prepared to play bodyguard.

“Big ol’ twenty-one.” I sip my whiskey and give him a look over the rim of my glass.

“Well, shit. Can’t go to jail, ladies. I’m too pretty.” He holds up his hands and backs away.

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