Page 135 of Lose You Twice

“You were about to.”

“I was about to ask why you’re so interested in the whereabouts of our beloved equipment manager.”

Asher mutters, “He’s still testing out titles.”

Weston ignores him. “Very normal question.”

“I didn’t see her,” Grayson says, saving me from deciding whether I can make Weston eat a roll of tape. “Donnelly said she called out.”

My stomach drops.

“Called out? Did he say why?”

Grayson shakes his head.

Weston leans back in his stall. “Look at our captain. Deeply concerned about our team staff. Very noble and definitely not based at all on sexual tension.”

“Cooper.”

“What? Maybe one of her siblings had something come up. I’ve seen the twins multiple times in the last few months, and when I tell you that they are little germ magnets, I kid you not. But they’re so cute.”

“Why were you around her siblings?” Grayson asks, finally participating in the conversation.

“What can I say? I’m fucking great with kids.”

Asher says, “You told a seven-year-old last month that penguins were business birds after watching Boss Baby too many times.”

“They wear suits.”

Asher shakes his head. “Sometimes I really worry about you.”

Weston points at him. “That sounds like your inner fear talking. Gotta let your freak flag fly once in a while, Hale.”

Coach’s whistle cuts through the room before this can get worse.

Practice starts rough and gets progressively worse. At least for me.

My passes are a beat too hard, and my timing is way off. I win faceoffs purely on muscle memory and lose focus between drills. Every time the doors open, I look. Every time someone walks past the glass, my attention cuts over, just on the off chance it could be her.

Still no Wren.

Just the absence of her.

By the third drill, Coach barks my name in the tone that means get your head out of your ass before I remove it for you.

By the time practice ends, I’m irritated, sweaty, and one Weston eyebrow waggle away from committing a crime. I check my phone before I’ve even stripped off my shoulder pads.

No text.

I stare at the screen anyway.

Grayson sits beside me. “You know you could just text her.”

I sigh in exasperation. I know he’s coming from a good place, but I can’t even think straight right now. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t.” Grayson drops his voice. “If you’re worried, just ask her.”

I look down at my phone.