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Thank god that was the part she latched onto. “Houstein got married last year, but it’s a long-distance thing. Girl in his hometown out in Oregon,” Rock told her. “And Ackerman has a full-on family, but his wife hates us so she never comes.”
“He’s not here either,” I pointed out.
“Because she thinks we’re a bad influence on the kids,” Rock went on. I actually thought kids would have a great time around us, and I knew from my own time with Katie that we could be civilized when needed.
“That’s sad,” Clara said.
“It is,” Drea confirmed. “He seems pretty miserable, honestly.”
“Anyhoo,” Rock went on breezily as I cringed, “a certain someone liked to bring a particular breed of lady friend around and it usually caused some kind of shenanigans that were just not worth the trouble.”
“What?” Clara laughed, and I could tell she had no idea what he meant. What would Clara think if he told her the whole truth? This wasn’t something I really wanted to explain right now.
But Drea had clued in and was giving me a look of sympathy now.
“Yeah, Sly here—”
“Rock, do you want more chicken?” Drea cut him off, and I knew she was trying to save me.
“No thanks, babe. I’m good.” He set down the chicken leg and wiped his hands. “Sly usually likes the simple ladies. The ones who date players for the money and the fame, and to get access to the team. He’s famous for towing around scantily clad girls who aren’t too loyal to one guy over another, and once you add some alcohol to that situation, things tend to go south.” Leave it to Rock to paint the picture clearly in very few words.
Clara frowned at me. “I’ve seen a few photos, if I’m being honest, but I just figured you had a type.”
“If he does,” Rock said, heaping on the crap now, “I don’t think you’re it.” He leaned forward. “And that should be a relief.”
“That’s probably enough,” Drea suggested, dropping a hand on his back and shaking her head.
“I don’t have a type,” I said, realizing there wasn’t much that would save me here. “I just like to keep things light.”
“Oh yeah?” Clara said.
“I mean... it was just easier. Before.”
“Before what?” she asked.
I shot a look at Rock, and Drea stood, handing him his plate. It occurred to me that I would have done better calling the actual team shrink. Rock did not practice doctor-client privilege. “We’re going to go check out the dessert options. So nice meeting you, Clara.”
“You too,” Clara said, and then turned back to me.
When they were gone, I put down my fork and faced her. She didn’t look angry or upset, just curious. “I don’t have a type, exactly. I just try to stay uninvolved, if that makes sense.”
“Is that what you’re doing with me?” Her tone was light, but the words were loaded.
“No.” The word came out fast, almost harsh, and I chuckled, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “I mean, I kind of wish I could. But you already know way too much.”
“What do you mean?” Clara was leaning in close, and I could smell the soft vanilla of her skin, the clean scent of her hair.
“You know everything,” I admitted. “All the stuff I try to keep hidden around these guys.”
“Like school?” she asked.
“Yeah. The fact that this is literally all I have. Hockey. It’s all I’ve ever been good at, all anyone cares about when it comes to me. So it makes sense that the women I’ve dated have been really invested in that. In me as a hockey player and nothing else.” As I spoke the words, I realized how shallow it sounded.
“You do know you’re a lot more than that, right?” Clara was so close to me now, this was a whisper. “You can’t really believe there’s nothing more to you.”
“I want to think there is.”
“Would I be here if there wasn’t?”
