Page 90 of Slap Shot Daddies

Stepping outside, I feel sobered by the conversation.

I watch Brooks’ drive off, his car’s taillights glowing like embers disappearing into the night, my eyes clinging to the lights as I think on the comfort he’s provided me in just one conversation.

I climb into my car, the leather seat creaking under my weight. My eyes catch my reflection, I look at myself for a moment.

Time to step up.

Time to prove to Kenzie that I’m here for her.

That we’re all here for her.

If she’ll let us be.

My phone buzzes softly in my hand, the screen illuminating with the group chat.

It's been silent except for the last exchange about Braden's departure.

A knot forms in my stomach as I think about him venturing alone to Russia, a place that seems so far and foreign.

I shake my head, attempting to dislodge the worry that clings to my thoughts like a persistent cobweb.

Deciding to distract myself, I quickly type out a message to Ambrose.

>> Fancy a pint? Surf’s Up?

I tap my fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, the textured leather cool beneath my touch, as I await his response. The soft purr of the car engine vibrates through the seat.

A minute later, my phone vibrates again, and I see his reply flash on the screen.

>> Yeah. Give me 15.

I exhale deeply.

I turn up the radio, letting the familiar riffs of classic rock flow through the speakers and fill the space around me.

Shifting into gear, I pull out of the lot, tires splashing through small puddles, and head toward the familiar neon glow of Surf’s Up.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ambrose

As soon asReggie and I push through the doors of Surf’s Up, the familiar scent of sizzling fries and malty draft beer hits me, a sensory reminder of countless nights spent here.

The place is buzzing, a tapestry of animated chatter and bursts of laughter mixing with the upbeat tunes pulsing from hidden speakers.

Neon signs flicker sporadically, casting colorful reflections on the polished wood of the bar, while each step on the floor makes a quiet, sticky sound that speaks of many nights well-loved by its regulars.

I let my eyes roam over the crowd, half-expecting to spot a few teammates unwinding after practice, beer in hand.

Instead, my gaze lands on Kenzie, perched on a bar stool. Her dark eyes are alive with laughter, her lips curved in a smile as she chats with Jinx.

An unexpected tightness seizes my chest at the sight of her, she looks stunning. Perhaps a touch pale, but radiant in the ambient glow, her long, dark hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall.

Her voice, a soft melody, reaches me just above the bar's din, as Jinx grins widely and nudges her arm with playful affection.

That's when I catch it.

"Want a drink?" Jinx asks, swirling the cocktail in her hand, the ice clinking against the glass.

---