Page 33 of Role Model

Troy ignored the ache that pulsed in his chest at the reminder of being recently dumped, and of being different. “No one right now.”

“You remember Lisa, right?” Wyatt asked, gesturing to his own wife.

Troy had completely forgotten her name. He’d probably only talked to her once in Toronto. “Of course. Yeah. Hi, Lisa.”

“Good to see you again, Troy. You settling in okay?” Lisa looked very different from the other two women in the circle. She had dark hair, cut short, and she didn’t seem to be wearing makeup. She was very pretty, but where a lot of Troy’s teammates’ wives over the years had looked like models, Lisa looked more like a fitness instructor.

Or, he supposed, like a doctor. Because that’s what she was.

“More or less. Never been traded before, so it’s all kinda weird.”

“Never Been Traded Club,” Bood said, extending his arm and offering Troy his fist. Troy bumped it. “Well, I guess you’re out of the club now.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still at the hotel?” Lisa asked.

“For now. I need to figure out a place to live.”

Lisa nudged Wyatt. “Give him the details of that building we lived in when you got traded here. You’ll love it, Troy. Fully furnished, right downtown, concierge service for cleaning and laundry. It was perfect for us, while we were waiting to see if Wyatt would be staying in Ottawa after that season.”

“I’ll email you about it,” Wyatt said. “You should definitely check it out.”

“Okay. Thanks. Sounds good.” It sounded perfect, actually. Although the proximity to the arena was nice, Troy was getting really sick of the hotel. And he needed something easy and temporary, just to last him until he could figure out how to get off this team.

“Okay, let me address something real quick,” Bood said abruptly. “We need to talk about how last season, I scored the prettiest goal of the fucking year against Buffalo. Grabbed that puck from McCord, split Buffalo’s D like a fucking knife, then faked out their goalie. Beautiful. Showed it like a thousand times on replay.”

“I remember,” Wyatt said. “Why are we talking about it, though?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Cassie said. “I know exactly why. Let it go, babe.”

“No. It should have been the highlight of the night.” Bood’s voice got louder, and he pointed a finger directly at Troy. “But then this fucker scores the goal of the fucking century against Philly on the same night.”

Everyone laughed, and even Troy had to smile. “Sorry, man.”

“Oh shit! That goal,” Harris said. “I was just watching it again this afternoon when I was making that video of your best goals, Troy. How’d you even pull that dangle off? It was like magic.”

Troy shrugged one shoulder. “Skill.” The goal had been incredible. Even he couldn’t believe he had done it when he’d watched the video.

“I wasn’t impressed,” Bood grumbled.

“He complained about it for weeks,” Cassie said, then patted his arm. “Now you can score some pretty goals together.”

“I guess. Hey!” Bood stood up and yelled in the direction of the beer fridge, “How many is that, Haas?”

Troy turned to see Luca Haas, frozen like a deer in headlights with his hand on the beer fridge door handle.

“I don’t know. Five?” Luca said. His eyes were wide behind his glasses. Troy knew he was twenty, but he looked fifteen. He also looked flushed and tipsy.

“Uh-uh. There’s iced tea in there. Drink that.” Bood sat back down. “Fucking kids.”

“You’re gonna be a hell of a dad, Bood,” Wyatt said.

“I’m tough but fair,” Bood said. He gazed lovingly at his wife, then stroked her hair. “Besides. Our kid is going to be smart and cool as hell.”

Cassie leaned in and kissed him quickly. Troy noticed that Lisa had snuggled in a little closer to Wyatt, and Nick had his arm wrapped even more tightly around Selena. Troy missed Adrian so much in that moment, even though he had never done anything as public as snuggle next to him at a party. Would he ever be able to? With anyone?

Harris caught Troy’s gaze from across the fire, and smiled. Troy managed to curve his lips a bit in a weak response.

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