Page 3 of Now That We Don't Talk

I take a bite of my French toast and chew while my thoughts race. I’m not the type of person who dislikes people—except Mac Evans.

Katie’s twin brother Kyle and Mac have been friends even longer than Katie and I have. Mac was always around, so we had to interact to an extent. Mac is one of those men who never struggled with the ladies—for many reasons—looks, talent, sense of humor, and exceptional athletic ability. Then he became a professional hockey player, so that only added to his impressive resume. His ego is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m sure it’s only grown more inflated over the years as he’s become a superstar.

“I can’t believe your brother is still friends with Mac,” I say finally. “I would’ve thought they’d drift apart after Mac became famous.

She shrugs. “Kyle is as loyal as they come. He’d never turn his back on a friend—even if they might deserve it sometimes.”

I nod. “I know. Being a good friend runs in your family.”

"We are twins," she sings, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Yes, but you have me as a best friend and Kyle has Mac,” I remind her. “Your brother definitely got the short end of the stick.”

She smiles. “There was a time we were all friends.”

I hold up my hand in defense. “Let’s be clear, Mac Evans would’ve never talked to me if I wasn’t friends with you. It was a requirement as a member of the Thomason extended family.”

“That’s not true,” she says.

I roll my eyes. “Um, it sure is. We couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. Popular hockey legend hanging out with the star of the math club—not a chance.”

“So what? There are plenty of friendships that thrive by being opposites,” Kate insists. “You and I are very different.”

“Yes, but Mac and I are not those people,” I assure her.

Katie sighs. For some friendships the subject of politics remains off limit. For Katie and I, the subject is Mac Evans. I know it’s awkward for her because Mac is basically like family to her.

Truthfully, he and I coexisted because of our friendships with the Thomason twins. The last time I saw him was at a Christmas party two years ago at Katie’s parents’ house. That’s where I overheard him tell two other guys he thought I was interested in him and always had been. The three of them found this idea very humorous, and I’m still not sure why he said it. I wasn’t one of the girls who swooned every time he walked by. I guess Mac believes that anytime a woman glances in his direction it automatically means theywant to bare his children. Despite what many say—professional hockey player doesn’t equal dream guy. At least it doesn’t for me.

“Well, thanks for letting me know,” I say finally. “I’ll be sure to check my surroundings when I leave the house.”

She laughs. “You do that. Just run out the door if you spot him in Trader Joe’s. His parents house is right down the street from there.”

“I will.”

Ugh. Trader Joe’s is one of my happy places. I’m there at least three times a week. The manager and I are now on a first name basis. She even invited me to join her Bunco game. I might have to switch up my shopping for a while just in case.

I happily change the subject so there’s no more mention of hockey players or blind dates. Those are two topics of conversation I’d rather not touch.

CHAPTER TWO

MAC

“Of course it’s not how we wanted our season to end, but I’m proud of how well the Wolves performed. We have a lot of young talent, and I’m looking forward to coming back even better in the fall.”

I want to physically give myself a pat on the back for my acceptable and appropriate answer. It certainly beats throwing myself on the floor in a tantrum over losing in the second round of the playoffs. I’ll save that for when I’m home alone and not in front of reporters.

The press then directed their questions to my teammate Will and finally to our coach, Jake. I know we’re all feeling the heaviness of the loss, but we’re professionals and we know how to show up in every situation. And right now we’re gracious losers. No one can deny the fact that we fought hard, despite being defeated by one goal in the final period. This is the reality of professional sports and something that never seems to get easier no matter how many games I play in.

“It was a good season,” Weston says, clearing his throat, even though the guy looks like he might cry.

I give a slight nod. “I know, but man, I hate losing.”

“It’s what we signed up for,” Weston mumbles. “I wish I could’ve been here longer to play with the team.”

Weston Smith has only been with the Tennessee Wolves a few months after being moved up from the minors due to the injury of one of our defensive players.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back next season,” I say just as coach Jake finishes talking to the press. They finally move on, putting us out of our misery. I watch as Jake’s girlfriend, Sophie, hurries over to him. Admittedly it still stings a little that she picked him over me. My ego took quite a hit last Christmas, and what makes it even worse is that it happened in front of my teammates.

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