Five

  Tweetie

  Ever since I hung up with Aiden, my mind has been in a tailspin and unable to straighten.

  Tedi is… I can’t even fathom what it will be like to see her again, let alone work alongside her. What if one of these dipshits hits on her, or worse, she starts dating one? I shake my head, trying to engage in the bullshit locker room talk going on around me, which lately consists of my three best buddies talking about what they did with the loves of their fucking lives the night before.

  I’m the odd man out now. Conor and Eloise disappeared all weekend, and I’ve started going out with the Chipmunks. Every night I feel older than the last when I say my goodbyes and they continue down to the bar that’s open the latest.

  Now with Tedi coming here, I’m a complete and utter mess.

  Conor pushes open the locker room doors, causing all of us to stop dressing and turn and look at him. He’s late. The last one to arrive.

  He drops his bag and raises his hands. “I have an announcement to make. I’m a married man!” He shows off his left ring finger that’s tattooed with a giant E.

  “What the hell?” Rowan walks over to him.

  “Beat you to it,” he says, then points at Henry. “Beat you too.”

  “You got married?” I ask, fully turning around, not understanding why he’s marrying someone he’s only been with for a matter of months.

  “And you didn’t invite us?” Henry scowls at Conor.

  “Three-day trip to Vegas,” he says.

  Yeah, I knew they weren’t home, but they’re always crossing something off those damn bucket lists of theirs. I never thought it would be getting married.

  Coach Buford comes out of his office. “What’s going on out here?”

  “Pinkie got married,” Alvin says. He’s a nice enough kid, though maybe I just think that because I’ve been spending way too much time with him. But he’s always in the know and has the gossip.

  Coach trains his gaze on Conor for a moment. “Congratulations,” he deadpans. “The rest of you, listen up. There’s been a development with this whole social media thing the league is pushing. Gill just got the axe, which I think we can all agree is a good thing for him and us.”

  Everyone laughs. The guy didn’t have a clue what he was doing, so I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t work out. I really tried to help him so that I wasn’t in the situation I’m about to be in, but the guy wouldn’t listen. I mean, I dated Tedi for years, and she handled my social media the entire time. I have an idea of what sells tickets, but Gill thought he knew best.

  “Since there’s no one else waiting in the wings, and the season is already underway, and we’re one of the favorites to win the Cup, they’re sending in the boss. This Tedi Douglas is going to use us as an example to show others what’s possible, so get ready to put those hockey smiles on display, boys.” He walks back into his office without another word.

  All of my asshole best friends turn their attention to me. Right now, I wish I’d never told them about her. Since they’re all living happily with their wives or soon-to-be wives, they think Tedi’s the one who got away. I don’t know, maybe she is, but our time to try to figure it out ended years ago. We’ve moved on from one another. Not to mention, who wants to feel that fucking pain all over again when we fuck up our chance another time? Not me, that’s for sure.

  “Fuck off and go play Monopoly.” I stalk toward the bathroom, throwing the dig that after you’re with someone for a long time, you end up playing boring board games because the bedroom turns into a barren wasteland, cold. Not that my bed with Tedi was ever cold.

  I go to the urinal to take a piss, but really, I just want to be away from everyone. It’s bad enough that these three know. I don’t need the entire team talking about my situation with Tedi.

  “Shit, man.” Conor speaks first. He probably knows the most about my past with her.

  “Do you mind? I’m taking a piss.” I don’t bother looking over my shoulder.

  None of them step forward, but they don’t leave either.

  “Are you okay?” Henry asks.

  I flush the urinal, tuck myself in my underwear and pants, and go over to the sink to wash my hands. “I’m fine.”

  “But—” Rowan starts, and I cut him off with a hand in the air.

  “Listen, I appreciate this whole ‘bros got my back’ thing between us. And I was happy to talk you assholes off the ledge when it came to the women you love, but Tedi and I have been over for a long time. I’m sure she’s moved on, as have I.”

  They all share a look.

  “The last thing I want right now is to have this gossip fill the locker room. I don’t need everyone looking at me the entire time she’s working here. So, just keep it to yourselves, and if I need your input or advice, I’ll seek you out.”

  I walk by them, and they part, allowing me through, whispering to one another behind me.

  I circle back around. “We’re here to play fucking hockey. It’s not a therapy session.”

  God knows I had enough of those when I was younger to know that these three are not qualified to deal with my bullshit.

  “Speaking of therapy, that brings up a good point…” Rowan lifts his finger, and I want to break it.

  They all start laughing, and the tension leaves my body for a second.

  “Cool, so we’re ignoring the problem.” Henry pats my shoulder as he passes me. “Good to know.”

  “Sweet, this was putting a downer on my whole wedding news anyway.” Conor hits my chest a few times, following Henry.

  Rowan doesn’t move. He gives me that look as if saying, “Come on, man, you can’t keep bottling this shit up.”

  But he’s wrong. I can. So I turn around and head to the dressing room.

  “If we’re gonna win the Cup, your asses should be on the ice,” I bellow.

  The guys left in here scramble to get their stuff and stop talking, each of them filing out. Conor gets dressed in record time and leaves without saying another word to me.

  Finally, I’m alone as I tie up my skates.

  Coach Buford comes out of his office, but he doesn’t walk out the door.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “You know this Tedi Douglas?” he asks.

  I glance up, wondering if he’s asking because he’s heard about our past or just general curiosity. As usual, his face gives away nothing. I could easily lie. Who Tedi is—or was—to me doesn’t matter, but if something comes out, then he’ll see me as a liar.

  “I do, through Aiden Drake.” I grab my helmet and wait for the next question.

  “She gonna make you guys run around doing bullshit media tours and crap?”

  I walk toward Coach, chuckling. “Yeah, she is.”

  “I thought so. You know, I didn’t mind Gill that much. He was shit at his job, but at least he wasn’t interrupting my plans and my time with the team.”

  I liked Gill too. He was hard on the eyes and didn’t make me regret all my life decisions.

  “Well, it’s good for the team, right? What’s good for the team is good for us?” My line is complete bullshit.

  “Don’t throw that optimistic crap at me. Go get on the ice. I have to keep you in shape before our new drill sergeant comes to town.” He smacks me on the back, and I head out.

  As my skates glide onto the ice, only one thought comes to mind—what will it be like to be in Tedi’s orbit again?

  Six

  Tedi

  I’m a rip-the-Band-Aid off kind of girl. Always have been. So I get Tweetie’s address—which isn’t hard since he lives at The Nest, a condo building he shares with his teammates on the north side of Chicago that has a bar underneath called Peeper’s Alley.

  It’s a well-known destination for all the puck bunnies that, from the rumors around the league, Tweetie likes to entertain. It’s embarrassing how much he’s gotten around since we broke up. Embarrassing and heart-wrenching, not that I’d ever let anyone know that second part.

  I tip the Uber guy on the phone and walk across the sidewalk. They’re off today, so I assume he’ll be home, sleeping off a hangover. My attention is drawn to a sign written in girly script with a black Sharpie that reads, The Nest, that’s been fixed to the gate. God, it’s worse than I thought. Notes are taped to the sign with phone numbers and promises of a good time, all fixed with pieces of chewed gum. How can he even live here?

  I press his buzzer, which just has the number for his unit, no last name. So, it’s okay for every warm-blooded female to know that three of the Falcon players live here, but they can’t know which condo they’re in? Men.

  No one answers. I try to sneak a peek through the security gate, but it’s pretty well blocked with thick black mesh. So I press the button again and wait, looking around the area.

  At least he chose a pretty awesome area to live, right by the Colts’ stadium and all the bars.

  After a bit, I pull out my phone to check the time. I’m not going to leave here and think about this inevitable meeting between us all night. My first day to report with the team is tomorrow, and I want to deal with the awkwardness between us before then.

  I press the number two buzzer. Surely one of the other players will let me up.

  Still no answer.

  Finally, I press the number one, but that’s a failure too.

  I grunt, annoyed that Tweetie is making even this difficult, regardless of if he knows or not. My gaze veers to the sign above the bar. Fuck it, I’ll have a drink and hope he’s back by then.

  I open the door of Peeper’s Alley to find a typical sports bar with televisions lining almost every inch of wall space. At least the inches where the Chicago sports team paraphernalia isn’t hung, most of which is the Falcons. I dodge examining Tweetie’s jersey and head right to the bar.

  “We’re not open.”

  I thumb toward the door. “But it was unlocked.”

  The older red-haired woman puts her hands on her hips and looks me over. “It’s really sad, you know.”

  “What is?” How could I have possibly offended this woman when she just met me?

  “That you allow your hormones to take over your common sense. Do you see them in here? No. They don’t sit in a bar in the middle of the afternoon.” She points at the door. “I open in fifteen minutes. Go wait on the sidewalk or go back home, I don’t care.” She turns away from me.

  I huff. I could listen to her—she’s definitely a “I’ll take you down if you cross me” type, but so am I, so let’s get scrappy. But first, I’ll kill her with kindness.

  “Listen, I’m sorry, but I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. I’m not here for one of your employees. I just need to have a drink and wait for one of the residents upstairs to get home.”

  She groans. “They’re all taken.”

  My stomach swoops. “I’m sorry?”

  “The Falcons. You’re late, they’ve been snatched up by other women. Women not like you.”

  My fingers point at my chest as if I’m not hearing her correctly. I want to say not all of them unless Tweetie was the one who got married in Vegas this weekend and not Conor.

  God, stomach, stop with the reactions. We don’t need him in our life.

  “I’m not here to date them or sleep with them.”

  She finally turns around from wiping down the liquor bottles. Her gaze coasts over me again, and she hums. “You are older than the usual ones.”

  “Thanks,” I deadpan.

  She studies me further. Just when I think she’s going to escort me out by my arm, she pats the bar in front of her. “One drink.”

  I smile, take off my coat, and slide up on the stool. “Rum and Coke with a lime.”

  She nods. “At least you can order a good drink.”

  She busies herself pouring my drink, and I cross my legs, observing. I’m pretty sure under that harsh exterior is a woman with a heart. After all, if she’s so protective of the guys, she must care about them.

  She places my drink on a napkin. I figure she’ll go back to the liquor bottles, but she slides another stool out from behind the bar and sits across from me. “So, who do you want?”

  “I already said I don’t want anyone.”

  “You’re looking for someone?”

  I nod, sipping my drink before setting it back down. “Tweetie.”

  Her head rocks back, and she studies me again. I’ve never felt so scrutinized by anyone. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in the way her lips almost tip into a smile that I don’t understand.

  “It’s business-related,” I clarify.

  For a woman who speaks her opinion on every turn, she’s awfully quiet.

  “We knew each other a long time ago.”

  “What did you say your name was?”

  I have no frame of reference on how well she knows him. He lives upstairs, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility for him to be close to the bartender in the same building he lives in. Tweetie makes friends with everyone. Plus, she’s protective of them. The one thing I have on my side is that Tweetie keeps everything superficial with people. He’s not one to tell a story about how he’s been hurt. Then again, I’m not sure he was even that hurt when we broke up.

  Shut up. You know he was. Just as much as you. You just like to deny it.

  “Hello??” She waves her hand in front of my face.

  I blink. “Sorry. Tedi. Tedi Douglas.” I extend my arm.

  She stares for a moment before shaking my hand. She still doesn’t say anything, and it almost comes across like she does know my name, but there’s no way.

  “And you are?”

  “Ruby.” Her hand slides out from mine. “I own the bar.”

  “I figured.”

  Light filters into the bar from behind me, and her gaze veers over my shoulder. A small smile creases her thin lips. “Hey, boys.”

  I have no idea how I’m able to feel that he’s entered the room, but I do. He’s here, and we’re back to sharing the same space. The hairs on my neck rise, or maybe it’s just my anxiety.

  Game time. Do not let him see how much this hurts you.

  After my version of a pep talk, I pick up my drink and swivel around on my stool.

  All four of them are here. The Trifecta and Pinkie. Tweetie’s head is buried in his phone. As the other three stand with their jaws on the floor, he’s clueless. Conor elbows Tweetie and he glances from his phone to him, then Conor nods toward me at the bar.

  Do not feel hurt that you felt him enter the room, but he didn’t sense you.

  Tweetie’s head turns in my direction, and I swallow the lump in my throat until our eyes meet. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction from me.

  So I bring my drink to my lips with a smile as if to say I’m perfectly fine. “Hello, boys. If you’ll all excuse us, Tweetie and I have some things to discuss.”

  Tweetie’s phone slips from his hands and topples to the floor.

  Ruby laughs behind me. “Back room,” she says, and I hear her feet hit the floor. “The rest of you, what can I get you?”

  As if she’s their mother, the other three walk over to the corner of the bar, as Tweetie stands in place. I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m doing a bang-up job of acting as if my heart isn’t pounding out of my chest. I deserve an Emmy for this performance.

  Until his gaze falls down my body and rises back up at a sloth’s pace. His eyes are like a caress, and it’s impossible not to remember when his hands used to travel the same path.

  God, no other man has ever incited the desire he can from just one look.

  Seven

  Tedi

  I down the rest of my drink and place it on the bar, acting as if his teammates aren’t slyly looking at me the entire time. I slip down from the stool and point at the door to a back room I noticed earlier.

  “In there?” I ask Ruby.

  She nods, opening a water bottle and handing it to Rowan Landry.

  Without glancing at Tweetie, I walk across the bar and into the back room that has a large round table along with some smaller tables for two on the wall, giant televisions, a dartboard, and a pinball machine. I don’t bother turning around when the door clicks shut behind me.

  “You look good.”

  I clench my jaw, gather my confidence, and circle around. “You always were an ass man.”

  “When it came to you, I was an everything man.” His eyes dip to my chest.

  Why does he have to be better-looking than when I first fell for him? It’s so unfair how men become more handsome as they get older.

  “You can tone down the flirting. Save that for your next victim.”

  He widens his stance, crosses his arms, and chuckles. “Victim? I don’t remember you screaming for help when you were under me…” He cocks his head. “Or over me for that matter.” He shrugs.

  “Listen, I’m sure you’ve gotten wind as to why I’m here.”

  He saunters over to the table and slides a chair out for me before taking the one next to it. Is he delusional? I’m not going to sit that close to him. So I leave one chair between us, and he laughs. “Damn, I almost forgot how stubborn you were.”

  “Almost?”

  He lifts one shoulder. “You’re hard to forget.”

  I inhale what I hope is a cleansing breath. “Let’s just get this over with. Who knows about us here?” I lean back and cross my arms.

  “And what if I said no one?”

  I roll my eyes. Games. Always fucking games with Tweetie. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  He chuckles, but it’s not a real laugh. He finds no enjoyment from my words. His forearms fall to the table, and he slides his chair closer. “You know I’m a private kinda guy.”

  “Really? Because from what I hear, you like to share your privates with a lot of people. Women specifically.”

  That damn smirk that annoys me and turns me on all at once creases his lips. “You know how good that certain part of my body is. It would be a tragedy not to share.”