Page 57 of On the Breakaway

“The fact that it’s either ‘be a dick’ or ‘suck a dick’ in your mind is concerning,” Liam says, shoulder-checking him as he passes.

We slide on our blade guards and make our way toward the locker room together, skates clacking against concrete once we step off the ice.

Nathan nods toward Barrett, who’s disappearing ahead of us. “Kid’s talented. Just scared to screw up.”

“Which ironically is why he keeps screwing up,” Liam adds.

Wyatt slings an arm carefully over Nathan’s good shoulder. “Meanwhile, this one’s become damn near unbearable after ten days off the ice.”

“You miss me.” Nathan leans and purses his lips for a kiss, prompting Wyatt to unhook his arm and step away.

“I miss your production. You as an individual, not so much.”

Nathan ignores him. “Home against Toronto in two days should be an easy win.”

I fling a towel at his head. “Why the hell would you say that out loud?”

Wyatt laughs because he knows exactly how psychotic my superstitions are. Same socks every game since rookie year. Same chicken alfredo before every home game because we won seven straight after eating it once.

Nathan just shakes his head. “I’m excited to watch the game in person. I miss being on the ice. If it weren’t for Wes, I’d be going crazy.

There’s an immediate shift in his expression when he says her name. Softer somehow.

“She’s been staying over a lot,” he continues. “Keeps pretending she’s not taking care of me, but yesterday I caught her googling anti-inflammatory meal prep recipes.”

Liam snorts. “That’s girlfriend behavior.”

“Right? She doesn’t do anything halfway,” Nathan says, looking deeply pleased with himself.

A bitter knot settles low in my stomach at the casual certainty in his voice.

I want that.

I’ve always wanted that.

The relationship. The partner. Someone who feels like home instead of temporary entertainment between road trips and games.

I’m the one who took relationships off the table for now. I did this to myself. But to be fair, none of my recent relationships felt the way Nathan looks right now. None made my voice go soft when talking about them.

“I miss that.”

The words slip out before I can stop them.

The tunnel falls silent, and when I glance up to find all three of them staring at me, suspicion clouds their eyes.

“What about Bra-Gate?” Liam asks.

Wyatt barks out a quick laugh. “You did not just say Bra-Gate.”

“Yes, he did.” Nathan slows to a complete stop. “And no, we are not letting it go this time.”

“Okay, but seriously, Bra-Gate?” I ask with a grin tilting at the corner of my mouth, despite the conversation at hand.

“Yeah,” Liam says. “Random black lace bra in your bathroom. The mystery girl you refuse to talk about. Bra-Gate.”

Avery’s bra.

It’s my own fault. When I folded up her clothes that night, I couldn’t bring myself to grab the bra off the towel rack. Touching it felt like guaranteeing the image of her wearing it would forever live in my brain.