Page 92 of Forbidden Hockey
Just call him,” I insist. Dash decided to go on this stupid “I’m not calling Stacey” ban. So far, he’s made it a grand total of two days, and it’s killing us both.
“Can’t you call him? Or call Casey. See what he’s up to through Casey.”
I don’t involve myself in other people’s love lives, but Dash is the exception. Dash is the exception to every rule I have.
Well, and maybe Trav, too. Might be a Nolan thing. But anyway, I know I want to meddle, I’m just not sure which way I go here. I already know that, as nice as Syd is, he’s not what Dash needs in a long-term companion. But if Stacey wants him, and I know he does, he should have done something by now. The fact that he hasn’t pisses me the fuck off.
The only reason I haven’t beaten on Stacey is that he actually does have a positive effect on Dash, and Dash fucking needs him right now. Me doing recon isn’t gonna be good enough. The bags under Dash’s eyes are too dark; he’s not eating as much as he should be. He’s gonna get injured. I know one phone call from Stacey will brighten him right up.
I want to tell him how stupid I think his phone ban thing is, and I do, but while I can be a crass motherfucker, I won’t go that far. I need to get Dash to call him. It’s for his own good.
“Just remembered, he could be out. I think he was dating some new guy,” I say. I don’t know if he is or not, but the way to get Stacey or Dash to take action is to make their claim on the other feel threatened.
And I know—if they’re that territorial of the other, why aren’t they together? It’s the same question that’s been drumming a beat against my skull for too many years, but I guess it’s a long story, that I guess raises some good points.
Still. I reserve the right to complain and intervene when I deem it necessary.
Dash instantly transforms from “sad boi” to murderous raccoon. “New guy? Fucking Alderchuck.”
He picks up his phone, and Stacey answers immediately, the only way he answers Dash’s calls when he’s not playing a game or in practice. He’s available at Dash’s every whim—doesn’t Dash see that?
“Hey … Stace?”
I don’t know what Stacey says on the other end, but whatever it is, Dash melts. The years he’s aged in the few months they’ve been apart fall away until he’s renewed. He softens. His spirit returns.
“Find your way to each other, knuckleheads,” I whisper under my breath.
My phone pings with a text, and I light from the inside, hoping it’s from Trav, but it’s not. It’s Maverick Elkington. What does he want? As much as he can be a terror on the ice, he usually keeps to himself.
Mav
Meet for a bite?
If I didn’t already know how obsessed he is with Bryce Meyer, I’d think he was trying to come onto me with all the special attention I’m getting. He’s trying to find an in, a connection to Bryce—that’s gotta be it—but if he thinks I’m the “in” he needs, he’s not as smart as I thought he’d be. Either that or he’s desperate.
I give Dash a once-over—serene smile, feet practically kicking, and is he biting his damn lip? Jesus, what’s Stacey saying to him? In any case, he’s fine. At least for an hour.
“Going out for a bit, Dashie.”
“Just a sec, Stace.” He turns his attention from the phone. “Hot hookup?”
Actually, that works in my favor. “Yeah, something like that,” I lie smoothly.
He gives me an air high five, and I grab my keys and head out the door.
As much as Elkingtons have a penchant for pissing me off, I can’t deny they’re beautiful. All of them. It’s hard to look Maverick in his face and not get lost in his eyes. I don’t even have a thing for him; it’s pure intoxication from being pulled into his orbit for too long. I shake my head.
“What do you want, Elkington?”
“Just a friend. Can’t a guy want a friend?” He takes a long pull of his non-alcoholic beer and then fiddles with the label.
The man looks like he could use a real beer. Underneath all those good looks, something’s stewing. I sip my soda water.
“I already have friends.”
“Right, your codependent group of clowns.”
“If that’s what you think of us, why do you want to be friends? They come with the Dirk package.”
