Page 2 of Stick By Me

“No one.” I sipped my juice. “I think I’ve dated every woman my age on Tinder already.” I huffed. At least all the women who interested me.

“So, Alicia and Lacy never worked out?” Axel ate some eggs, his brows knitting.

“No, they didn’t.” Here we go. I focused on my plate and twisted my lips. They always wanted an explanation.

“What was wrong with Alicia? I thought you liked her?” Remy held a slice of bacon over his plate and focused on me.

With a shrug, I said, “I did like her.” My gaze met his. “I don’t know, just got bored of her, I guess.” Why was it after a month or so of dating, I always lost interest? Was something wrong with me? Shit, or was it because at some point, I always needed to be with a man? I had to throw those thoughts right out of my head. It was seeing Remy and Axel so happy that put them there. Nothing else.

Axel twisted in his chair to face me. “So why the hell don’t you just date a dude? Maybe then you wouldn’t get bored. Sword fights are the best.” He freed a soft snort. “Right, lover boy?” He held up his coffee cup to Remy.

“Yeah.” Remy tapped his orange juice glass on Axel’s cup. “I couldn’t imagine being with a woman again.”

“Hey, you better not. You’re only allowed to imagine being with me.” Axel threw Remy a mock glare, then grinned.

Taking a deep inhale, I straightened in my chair. If only he knew the truth, he’d shit himself and Mom would…I can’t do that to her, even though she’d accept it. And Dad? I didn’t want to see the disdain on his face. He’d hidden it from Axel, but I’d seen it. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be just fine.” I ate more bacon.

“When do you have to leave for the rescue?” Remy ate some eggs.

“In about thirty minutes.” I glanced at my phone, resting on the table. “Can you guys get the dishes?”

“Of course.” Remy nodded while he chewed his food.

CHAPTER TWO

ARCHER

“Dude, what the hell are you making?” I broke three eggs over a frying pan on our worn-out white stove top, so old the burners were made with those round electric elements. Then I twisted around to Jonah, my best buddy from home and the left winger of our college team, the Devils.

Jonah shook his straight, black hair off his forehead and his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth, his big hand holding down the lid on our blender and stabbing the buttons on it with the fingers of his other hand. “Never you mind. It’s a secret blend of lean proteins and shit that’ll make me fly on the ice tomorrow.”

“Why? ‘Cause all the fucking gas it’ll give you will shoot you down the ice?” I chuckled and slid a spatula under my eggs, then flipped them over. I didn’t like the yolks to be too runny.

“Ha ha, what a funny guy you are.” He bumped his shoulder on mine, then kissed my cheek. “Good thing I love you so much or I’d have to slap you for that comment.”

“Naw, leave the slapping or more like, the punching, to Mason.” I flicked a wave of blond bang off my head, then adjusted the waist of my thin, black joggers. I’d put on one of myteam shirts after breakfast. Sometimes the kitchen got hot when we were cooking.

He stopped blending and poured the thick, green concoction into a tall, plastic glass. “Man, can you believe he got kicked out of Monkey Pants Bar last night for fighting again?”

“I hope Coach Patterson doesn’t find out, or we’ll be fucked without our best center when we play U of A this weekend.” I carefully slid my eggs onto a plate, then threw the bagel with cream cheese and lox that I’d made earlier next to them. “When do you think the other guys will be up?”

“Fuck if I know. I’m surprised they’re still in bed.” He slapped my ass, then made his way toward our dining table. It reminded me of something you’d see at a farm, a big oval thing with tall-backed chairs. But what the hell, Myles’ family, our right winger, had given it to us, so I couldn’t complain.

I picked up my phone and checked the time, my reflection catching on my brown eyes, my lashes so thick the guys sometimes teased me for wearing mascara. Fucking morons. I joined Jonah at the table, sitting beside him. Funny how we all had our regular seats, even when it was only the two of us sitting at the table and not having a squad house dinner. I cut into my eggs, watching him slurp down his smoothie. “So, what’s really in that thing?” I slipped the eggs into my mouth.

“The usual shit, protein powder, Greek yogurt, creatine and I used one of those green machine drinks.” He set his smoothie on the table. “I’m just sick of eggs right now. I’ve been eating boiled eggs every day for a week.”

“I know. That’s why I changed it up and fried mine.” I let my gaze roam over his thick biceps, stretching the sleeves of his maroon athletic shirt, how it folded at his thinner waist, then his thick thighs, under his black joggers. Maybe his smoothies would help me put on a little more muscle. “Could you make me one of those tomorrow morning?”

He drank some down, his blue-eyed gaze meeting mine. “Yeah, sure.” He poked at one of the many tattoos on my arm. “I’m thinking about getting a few of these things. What do you think I should get?”

“Uh…crossed hockey sticks?” I snorted. Here we go…

“Dude, everybody does that. I want something special.” Shaking his head with a smirk, he gulped down more of his smoothie.

“You could get my name tattooed over your heart with little butterflies all around it.” I chortled. He was going to be sorry he ever asked. But we’d been fucking with each other since we’d met at our first hockey camp at ten years old. And had been fast friends ever since.

“More like I’ll tattoo your name on my ass.” He grumbled, then huffed a laugh. “Speaking of fine asses, when are you going to tell me what happened with that hot keyboard player?”

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