Page 44 of Friendzone Hockey
Sutter and Casey are a lot. Dirk’s walked in on more of their fuckfests than he ever wanted to see.
“We’re not fucking—we’ve never fucked, for the record. He’s just my unhinged stalker.”
“Do you need a restraining order?” I ask, and I’m serious. What Maverick’s doing is a new level of fucked up, even for our group of weirdos.
Bryce smiles. The blush is back. “You remember the part about him being an Elkington, right?”
Yeah, Elkingtons are hard to shake. “Let me see if I understand. You refuse to date him because he’s a huge dick, but he’s him, so he’s sure you belong to him and thinks you just need time to come around?”
From the way he’s acting, Maverick might be right—as wrong as that sounds. The attention doesn’t exactly seem unwanted.
Bryce’s eyes narrow into slits, remembering something, wiping the Maverick-filled adoration off his face. “Even if I did want to be his boyfriend—and I don’t—he’s leaving at the end of the summer. He got pulled up. He’ll be playing with Vancouver this season.”
Huh. That sounds more like the real reason. Is he afraid he’ll be too attached?
“That’s not so bad.” It’s a helluva lot better than if he were say, playing for Kelowna and on the road, while Maverick played for Vancouver while also being on the road. If that’s just like my and Stacey’s situation, it’s a coincidence. A cruel coincidence.
Bryce runs fingers through the long parts of his hair.
I get it. That’s his real fear. He doesn’t want to get attached, so he’s keeping Maverick at a distance. Easy for me to see from the outside, likely impossible for him to see on the inside. It also means that if Bryce is at the pub, that’s where Maverick will be.
By six o’clock, the kitchen’s slammed, the bar’s slammed, all my servers are in the weeds. At least Rhett did show up, but instead of taking his brother home, he joined him. Logan was soon to follow after he was done with work, and he brought Jack and Mercy with him. Stanley’s not with them, so it’s safe to assume another Meyer has him. My eyes keep flicking to the door because if there are this many of us here, more will come. We usually gather like magnets. It’s only a matter of time before Stacey shows up with his companions.
I finally have a minute to stop by their table with a round of the shots they ordered.
“Have one with us,” Jack says. “We’re playing a game. Every time Bryce has to go for well stock, we take a shot.”
“Not me,” Maverick says. “I’m only here to make sure no one touches him.”
At least he’s not hiding his obsession. That’s something, I guess. Rhett’s a bit of a proud Papa, smiling in his brother’s direction, squeezing Logan’s hand. I guess that’s what it means to be loved by an Elkington, you have to be willing to be utterly owned.
Syd’s not like that. I don’t want that.
Well, maybe I a little bit want that.
Or a lot.
Okay, fine. I a lot want that.
I thought I was happy with Syd until fucking Stacey and his bomb drop. I’m so mad at him.
“Maybe later. We’re in the fucking weeds. I’d better go check the kitchen.”
I head into the back. “Corner! Behind!” I shout as I make my way around the corner and into the throng of servers, food runners, and bussers who are trying to squeeze through spaces too small for the number of people who need to pass. I back against the wall so one of the servers can get by, her arms laden with food.
“Hands! Hands to the line,” our expo shouts.
Even though half the staff is back here, they’re all busy with something. Fucking dammit. I should have called another food runner in tonight.
Dirk’s low voice calls orders as the kitchen struggles to keep up. They could use me on the line, but I only have one other manager on the floor. Fuck. This is bad. Everyone’s food’s gonna run long. There will be yelling. There will be bad reviews online. There will be customers who never return despite what we do to make up for it. My chest tightens. I hate this. Dad should be able to rely on me.
The two-way door to the kitchen swings open, and my skin breaks out in gooseflesh despite the sweltering heat.
Stacey.
I could cry. It’s fucking Stacey.
He’s got all the confidence I’m missing, chest high, brimming with it. I shouldn’t want to hand him all my problems, I shouldn’t feel the relief, knowing that I can, but I do, and it’s the sweetest hit of relief I’ll ever have.
