Page 42 of She Wolf

“That worked better than I thought,” I chuckle as I plug the charger into my phone. “You heard, huh?” Casey asks.

“Not really, but we could tell you were both going at it.”

“Fuck do you think any of the team heard?” He scrubs at his face with his hands as he heads for the bathroom to take a leak and brush his teeth but leaves the door open so he can hear my reply. I take the opportunity to get undressed.

“Nah we’re last on the floor and Hollywood set the poker table up at this end of his room. It’ll be fine.”

We swap places and I load my toothbrush up with minty paste. I lift the brush to my teeth.

“So, about my sister. I know you’re texting and stuff but without giving me any of the gory details, are you two I dunno, ugh, dating?” I can see him squint as he says it. Like it was okay in theory to say, ‘be Coralie’s boyfriend’, when in actuality it’s probably hurting his brain to think about it.

“Yeah, I’d call it that, although we haven’t been on a date yet. She wants to take things slow, and I totally respect that. This is gonna sound so lame man, but to just be able to text her is…” I let out a breath. “I’m fucking loving it.”

He grins standing at the side of the bed he always chooses when we’re on the road, which is closest to the bathroom. I always take the one nearest to the window. “Well, that’s good to hear. There’s no one else I’d want her to be with, man. What does Jack know?”

“Nothing and it needs to stay that way for a bit. Just while we navigate this new level of…” My toothbrush free hand finds the back of my neck. “What the hell is this called—when you go from friends to—"

“Argh, don’t say lovers. Fuck me, Gunner, she’s my twin.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“Just say dating, Gunner. Dating is fine.” He shucks off his sweats and climbs into his bed leaving me free to clean my teeth. Finishing up, I gargle my mouthwash and wipe my mouth dry and then head back out into the bedroom section.

“Not calling Anna?”

“Nah, she already texted to say she’s gone to bed early. Seems like she’s always tired at the minute. I wonder if she’s coming down with something?”

I chuckle. “Or something.”

“Huh?”

“You say she’s tired all the time. Any other symptoms? Sickness, irritability…”

“Oh, you mean like she might be pregnant?”

I nod smiling.

“Nah not yet Gunn. But soon, oh so soon.” He flashes me a shit-eating grin and then turns off his bedside lamp and settles down. I do the same and open up my text app—one of my new favorite things to do.

***

We’re deep into the second period and my thighs are burning like a motherfucker. Game four is a total bitch. Two power plays a piece, and I am done. Callan and I have been cycled in for what feels like every three seconds. We push and push fighting Tampa’s offense like our lives depend on it, and it feels like every single one of us has been in a fight.

As Coach calls us in, I’m thankful for the chance to catch my breath, not realizing there are only fifteen seconds left on the timer.

At least we’re up by a goal. The buzzer goes and I’m eager to swap out my jersey. I can usually see out the whole game in the same one but tonight has been hard fucking work and it is soaking wet.

The defense coach heads my way with a slap to my pads. “Good fucking work out there, Grey. Keep it the fuck up.” I nod through gritted teeth and look at Callan who seems to share my chagrin. We’ve got a good team but we’re a little light on defense.

I hope the youngest of the Madden brothers can work things out and sign with us—we could do with another player like him.

We’re given the two-minute signal, so I quickly wipe my helmet and then we head back out to the bench.

The period is long. They get another one, evening the score and I dig deep, summoning one more burst of energy from my screaming muscles. I get a good hit on Tampa’s right winger, making sure to finish my check and then as he fumbles to keep upright, I move to where Callan is battling for the puck against the boards.

I make sure to keep pressure on their defenseman with my stick. He tries to turn off, but I follow him pushing harder. The puck skids across the ice, Callan intercepts and gains possession.

I see Casey in my peripheral vision and take out his mark while Knox struggles to break free of his. Callan gets it over to Casey, who nails their Goalie from a long range blast. He never had a fucking chance of stopping that bullet.

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