Page 18 of Slash & Burn

“You have mascots though. I don’t want to wear that get-up either.”

“Gilly? You’d actually be perfect for our grumpy gull, especially with that attitude.”

“I just don’t get why I need to suddenlyjoin the team,” she sighed, holding her fingers up in air-quotes as her expression soured. “I was supposed to be representing the library in all this.”

“It’s a solidarity thing, that’s all. It helps tie your library and the Brawlers visually. It’s a good idea. And it’s a pretty easy ask, considering you’ve been able to hide in the background up until now.”

I spotted the rack of Boston Brawlers jerseys and was about to start flicking through them when I heard hushed whispers and muffled shrieks coming from behind me.

“Oh my god, itishim,” one woman was saying, tugging on her friend’s T-shirt so hard the thing was nearly half off her shoulder. Her friends were equally as wide-eyed, their mouths quirking into enticing grins when I turned their way.

“Holy shit, Grady Holloway, get out of here!”

I laughed, putting on my trademark smile. “I can’t, not until I get what I came for.” I winked at the blonde one, noticing the white sash across her chest. In bright gold letters I read the words “Bride to be.” For a second I considered it odd to be in a sporting goods store for a bachelorette party, but I didn’t get a chance to ask about it.

“Oh my god, my fiancé is going toflip,” the bride squealed, darting toward me so fast I flinched. Her friends flanked me on either side and a phone was shoved in front of my face before I could say a word.

“Get in closer,” one of them said, their bodies jostling against me, poking into my sides as I fought to keep my balance.

I’d been swarmed by enough women to know the best tactic was to stay quiet, smile, and ride it out. But after the thirtieth snap of their camera, my patience faltered.

Where was Jill?

I craned my neck around the mass of hair in my face, but she’d disappeared. I slipped free from the trio and took a few steps toward the front of the store to see if she’d ducked outside.

“Wait, please, just one more. We’re on a scavenger hunt, but playing with you would besomuchmore fun.” The bride’s friends were tall, and pretty enough, and any other day I might have returned the look they were giving me. It had been a while since I’d had a fling. But Jill’s absence dug into me like tiny hooks, and I spun around again to look for her.

“Sorry,” I called, walking away faster. “Maybe another time.”

“But we’re only here for one night,” they whined as I crossed the threshold of the store. Popping out on the crowded sidewalk, I scanned in both directions but there was no sign of Jill. She had to still be inside.

Clinging to the wall so the bachelorette girls wouldn’t see me, I snuck around to the hiking boots along the back. I was about to give up and call Jill’s cell when I spotted her wavy brown hair. She was facing away from me, leaning against a display of socks as she flicked absentmindedly through a climbing magazine.

“Thinking of giving free-solos a try?” I asked over her shoulder, keeping my voice low so only she could hear.

She tensed, but didn’t bother looking back at me. “I don’t really like heights, but the solitude holds plenty of appeal.”

I didn’t like the tone of her voice. She sounded defeated or disappointed or something else that made my stomach twist.Was she upset about the fans?

“Sorry about that.”

Slipping the magazine back onto the rack, she shrugged. “Perk of the job?”

We walked back to the jerseys, both of us scanning for the other women, who thankfully seemed to have left. I started digging through them for one with my name on the back in her size.

“I’m not sure I’d call it a perk,” I replied warily. For the first time I wondered what Jill’s opinion of me was. Joey had made it clear he saw me as a dirty dog, and at one point he wouldn’t have been wrong. Tugging a hanger off the rack, I turned to hand it to her. “Playing nice with fans is kind of a requirement for the gig.”

“Yeah, you looked like you hated it,” she sighed sarcastically.

I was about to argue with her when she snagged a second, blank jersey from the rack and spun hurriedly toward the register like she was hoping I hadn’t noticed.

“You got a problem with wearing my number?” I asked as we headed back to my car.

Jill kept her eyes straight ahead. “The email said I had to wear Brawlers gear, not become another one of yourgroupies.”

I might not have had many serious relationships, but I knew what jealousy sounded like. She was pissed about the women in the store. I could see it on her face, hear it in the snap of her tone. That had to be it. I was about to press her on it, when the ferry horn blared right behind us and we both flinched.

My eyes darted over to the boat as its engines kicked on, churning up the blue-green water. It backed slowly away from the dock, freshly loaded with cars and tourists. It was headed to Peak’s Island, some of my parents’ mail probably tucked into the tiny cart strapped in the back with the bicycles and delivery pallets.

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