Page 57 of Bite Your Tongue

“All right then, just ignore me, you fucker,” Logan says, catching me off guard.

When I realize he’s staring at me, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Sorry, did you say something?” I utter, realizing that Logan and Tripp are both staring at me. “Why are y’all staring at me like that?” I shrug.

“Because you checked the fuck out, dude.” Logan grins. “That’s why.”

“Yeah, you did,” Tripp agrees, taking a sip of his drink. “Come to think about it, you’ve been like that for days.”

“No, I haven’t,” I say boldly.

Tripp knows that I hooked up with Saylor once, but I’m beginning to think he’s onto me, knowing it’s been more than that.

Saylor and I planned to tell Smith, but then she started acting fucking weird and ditched my ass. Now, I don’t know what the fuck we’re supposed to do.

Seeing they are both eyeing me over suspiciously, I bring my glass to my lips and take a long sip. The fruity flavor, mixed with liquor, is warmly welcome, and I practically chug it down to numb whatever this fucking feeling inside me is.

“I was, uh, thinking about this weekend’s games. Kinda zoned out,” I lie. How am I supposed to tell them that the little sister of one of our best friends and teammates is actually what’s on my mind and that I’m going fucking nuts over her ghosting me?

“Oh, yeah,” Logan says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You must bedeepin thought about this game, huh?” He nudges Tripp. “I think our boy’s got himself a woman.”

Tripp’s eyes stay calm and cool. “Well, whoever it is, I hope it won’t cause a ripple in the team,” he drawls slowly, but there’s a warning in there. “You know, seeing as we’ve all been jelling despite everything that’s happened this season with Rowan and Kolt.”

I know what he’s telling me. We’ve had a terrible season as far as injuries and then the whole thing with Rowan, yet somehow, we’ve been rolling through the first part of the season, still holding our own. But that’s because we have good chemistry and we trust each other. If I piss Smith off, Tripp knows there’s a possibility that could throw the team’s unity for a loop.

“It’s going to be fine,” I utter, tossing back my drink. “You need to relax.”

“Oh, yeah. Says the dude who’s fuck—”

“Cut the shit, Talmage,” I hiss across the table, leveling him with a harsh glower. “I fucking mean it.”

Logan’s eyes bounce between us before he nervously gazes around the room. “Well, this isn’t awkward at all,” he mutters before his face suddenly lights up. “Oh, look, I see an old friend walking our way. Thank fucking God that this weird-ass conversation between you two dumbasses is over.”

Logan holds his hand out, and Brody O’Brien—another professional hockey player—shakes it.

“They’ll let anyone into these dinners, huh?” Brody says with a smirk before looking around the table. “Good-looking crew though—I’ll give you handsome motherfuckers that.”

“What’s up, brother?” Logan grins at him. “How’s the kid, man?”

“She’s good,” Brody says, smiling proudly. “Really intoAladdinright now.” Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he hits the screen before holding it up in front of all of us. “I make a pretty hot Jafar, don’t I?”

I stare at the screen. “Your kid wanted to be the Genie? Not Jasmine?”

He chuckles. “Nah, she’s not really into princesses. And since she loves villains, she told me I had to be Jafar, not Aladdin.” He frowns, shaking his head. “I would have made the best Aladdin.”

Tripp points at the screen. “Even Bria didn’t get to be Jasmine, huh?” He squints harder, shrugging. “She’s a pretty Magic Carpet though.”

“Damn right she is,” he agrees. “How’s your daughter, Sterns? She must be, what, three by now?”

“Yep, she’ll be four in the spring.” Logan smiles. “She’s good. Obsessed with Highland cows and excavators.”

As they chat back and forth about kids, for the first time, I wonder what that would be like—to be able to have a tiny person you love so much that it’s basically the only thing you’re capable of talking about anymore. Like that human is the only thing that truly matters and everything you do is for them.

Brody O’Brien is terrifying on the ice and one of the best defensemen the league has ever seen. His build reminds me of Kolt’s, and oddly enough, both are covered in tattoos. That’s about all they have in common though because Brody is a jokester and Kolt is a grumpy fuck. Both would do anything for their friends and family though.

Someone calls Brody’s name, and he tucks his phone into his pocket. “All right, fellas, nice to see you handsome fucks, but I gotta run.”

We all wave, and he struts off into the crowd in true Brody O’Brien fashion. The dude has enough confidence to probably fill this whole fucking city, and yet he’s a good shit.

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