Page 61 of King of the Crease

Tanner puts a hand over one of his ears. “That bass is way too strong. These kids are going to have early hearing loss.”

“This is how we listened to music, and we were fine,” I tell him. My car stereo was cranked up back in the day. I prided myself on being able to flip open my CD book, find a CD, and pop it into my player all without taking my eyes off the road.

“Guys, stop complaining. You sound eighty. Jesus. We still know how to party. We’re going to show these fuckers a thing or two.” Griffin’s serious tone is undercut by the fake ornaments jiggling on his sweater as he talks.

I cut a look to Nick, and we laugh under our breaths. I find his hand in the chaos and give it a quick squeeze.

“I brought business cards just in case any of these guys are thinking about buying a condo.” Cary holds up his stack of cards. He’s a real estate agent who lives for making the sale, even during a Christmas bar crawl apparently.

“You never know!” He says off our looks.

“Ho ho ho!” Jack yells as he approaches with his much younger teammates. His jolliness suggests that he started partying early. Jack is wearing a tank top that says “Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animal” and Santa pajama pants. He throws an arm around Griffin. “You guys actually came out.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Griffin says, pulling Jack close to him.

“Tanner is staying for one drink at one bar,” Des emphasizes.

“I need to get home to the kids,” Tanner says. “Lena is going to the movies with friends, and I promised Davy and Dean that I’d play Mario Kart with them.”

“I’m leaving in an hour or so because I promised I’d fold laundry, and if you leave it in the basket for too long, it gets wrinkled, and then you have to throw it in the dryer again,” Des says.

“You guys are too wild for me,” Jack says.

“Hey, Tanner is really good at Mario Kart,” I say. He gets more competitive with video games than he does with hockey.

“We’re gonna get so wasted!” Jack bumps chests with one of his teammates.

“Guys, let’s not get carried away,” Bill says. “We’re playing each other tomorrow morning.”

“Baby, I can beat you guys hungover,” Jack says.

“Don’t call me baby,” Bill shoots back.

“It’s not too late to back out. No judgment.” Jack rests an elbow on Griffin’s shoulder and looks up at his man. “Seriously, I get if this isn’t your scene.”

“We’re not backing out. Whatever you and your friends drink, we’ll match. And we’ll kick your ass on the ice tomorrow,” Griffin says. Does he realize his mouth is writing checks his body definitely won’t be able to cash?

“Shit, yeah!” Jack presses his lips to Griffin in a sloppy but excited kiss. It’s plain as day how into Griffdog he is. “My boyfriend is a badass.”

I gaze at Nick, taking in his unassuming gorgeousness, wondering what it’d be like to call him boyfriend. Which I know is a crazy idea because he’s leaving soon.

“You okay?” Nick asks, tilting his head.

His voice is calm, careful. Like he’s always listening for something underneath what people say.

“Yep,” I say immediately, too fast. “Totally fine. Full of cheer.”

Last night flashes through my brain without permission. The fact is that I still feel it sitting right behind my ribs, like a puck waiting to be shot.

Nick smiles, soft and private, like he knows something I don’t—or maybe something I’m pretending I don’t.

I raise a fist. “Let’s get drunk!”

19

NICK

Ihave never been around so many people without a bodyguard. This is exhilarating and overwhelming.