Page 11 of Dancing in the Rain

“Dude!” Sam grabbed his hand and slung his other arm around his shoulders in a bro hug. “Good to see you!”

“Hell, yeah. You, too.” Drew stepped back. “How was your summer? I saw all those Instagram pics you posted from Europe.”

“Yeah.” Sam grinned. “We had a great trip. How are you doing?”

Ugh. “Great.” He grabbed his keys. “Let’s head out.”

Sam had lots to talk about after a busy off-season, thankfully, and Drew just had to keep a smile tightly in place as they drove to Fabian just off North Michigan. They walked into the dimly lit, expensive steakhouse with its leather booths and lots of dark wood.

The other guys were already there, Chase and Gersh and Johnny. Gersh was a veteran on the team, and Chase and Johnny had been acquired in trades about five years ago. Along with Dougie, they were his best buddies.

But now Dougie’d retired and had a corporate job that Drew didn’t understand. And Drew was retired not because he wanted to be but because his fucked-up knee had betrayed him, while his other friends continued to play. Chase, Gersh, and Johnny were all happily married family guys and now he wasn’t. He felt different. He wasn’t one of them anymore. He felt like he didn’t fit in anywhere now. Just adrift on an endless ocean of crap, no map, no compass, no directions…hell, no destination. No identity. He was nobody now.

While they all chirped at each other and shared tales about their summer and their kids, he laughed and tossed back Rusty Nails until the room was pleasantly blurry and the ache in his chest had faded. The guys went crazy ordering appetizers—shrimp cocktails, crab cakes, and the foie gras that Sam insisted on ordering because he’d had it in France.

Talk turned to the upcoming season, speculation about the prospects, including the newest draft picks, and how they’d do. Drew ordered another Rusty Nail. Nobody seemed to notice he wasn’t saying much, and that was fine.

He probably shouldn’t hang around with these guys much now. It was just too goddamn painful. He slumped in his chair and contemplated his beverage.

“Hey, Selly.”

Drew lifted slightly unfocused eyes to look at Sam. “Yeah?”

“What’s up with you? What are your plans now?”

Drew grimaced. “Got no plans right now.”

“What’re you going to do?” Johnny asked. “Now you’re retired.”

Drew shrugged. “I dunno. Step told me I can come work as an adviser again this season.” Step was Ivan Stepanov, general manager of the Hawks. Technically, Drew was still under contract with the team for one more season, but he’d be spending this season on long-term injured reserve. For the remainder of last season, he’d hung out as an alleged “adviser” but he knew better than anyone that he didn’t really have a role. He was just there, cheering on the guys. He didn’t think he could handle that again this year. “But I don’t know,” he continued, swirling his drink in the glass. “Maybe I need some time off to just enjoy life.” He almost threw up a little in his mouth when he said that.

Sam snorted. “No offense, dude, but you don’t look like you’re enjoying much.” He studied Drew. “And you need a haircut.”

Drew laughed and cuffed the back of Sam’s head, with its nearly shoulder-length blond hair; the dude was voted player with the best flow in the league. “Fuck off.”

“No, seriously.”

Drew frowned and raked a hand through his hair. “Whatever,” he muttered.

“Got any ideas what you want to do?” Gersh asked.

“Nah. Had lunch with Dougie the other day. I do know I couldn’t stand working in an office every day like he does now.”

Gersh shuddered. “Yeah, same.”

“You went to college,” Sam reminded him. “What’d you take?”

“Buncha bullshit courses,” Drew said. “Easiest ones I could. I never finished my degree after I got drafted.”

Because he was Drew Sellers, first-round draft pick, young and invincible, who was going to make millions of dollars and play hockey forever. Who needed a plan B? Not him!

Dumb fucker.

His cellphone vibrated. Frowning, he fumbled it out and peered at the illuminated screen in the dark restaurant. Sara.

He quickly answered the call. “Hey. Drew here.”

“Hi, Drew. It’s Sara.”

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