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28

COOPER

Music and happy voices fill the dressing room once we’ve made our way off the ice after destroying Montreal. We were on fire tonight.

Instead of acting like a team that’s just been thrown together, which is how it’s kinda felt since I was traded, we were like a well-oiled machine. I’m not sure if the couple of days’ break we had helped, but we all went out there firing on all cylinders, and we fucking killed it.

We shut out Montreal in their own barn and left their fans wondering what the hell they just watched.

“Fucking yes, boys,” Storm shouts as he marches through the room, already shedding his equipment. “Nash, what the fuck did you eat before going out there tonight?” he asks, stopping in front of my stall. “You were unstoppable.”

I’m not sure how it happens, but a smile actually appears on my face. I’m not sure who’s more shocked—him to see it or me feeling the muscles pull.

“Thanks. I felt good tonight.”

“You looked it, too.”

“Yeah, man. Good game,” Kodie says, stepping up behind Storm.

My eyes find his, and a wave of nostalgia races through me.

Hitting the dressing room with Kodie after our game used to be one of my favorite times. And if I was lucky, it was Mom or one of his parents collecting us. They were always proud of what we achieved, no matter what the score actually was. And they would almost always take us for food after, or be waiting with something as a surprise. If Dad was the one to get us, all I ever got was criticism. But everything is different now. Although I guess that doesn’t mean it always has to be.

Kodie’s making an effort, and I’ve been trying too as well. Maybe there is hope for us and our long-ago friendship. Maybe it doesn’t have to be nothing but bitterness and jealousy.

“You, too,” I say, hoping he can hear the sincerity in my voice. “That second goal you scored— fucking insane.”

One side of his mouth lifts in a smile that’s almost as rare as mine.

It never used to be the case. I remember us laughing together until our stomachs hurt at the dumbest shit.

“Thanks. We’re both on press tonight.”

I nod once, accepting my fate. I fucking hate doing press. I know Kodie does, too. But every now and then, we’ve got to suck it up and accept that it’s a part of this job.

After getting showered and changed, we meet Coach and Fletch and follow them toward the media room to get the show on the road.

I already know what they’re going to ask when they see us sitting at that table together.

Have you two buried the hatchet?

Are you going to be able to rekindle your old friendship now that you’re teammates?

And when the press conference begins, I’m not disappointed.

Kodie and I field the questions the best we can before Coach points out that our issues aren’t what’s important tonight. The focus should be on how we just went out there and won as a team, and thankfully, our relationship falls to the back burner as everyone discusses our performance instead.

“Anyone would think they’re expecting us to turn on each other while playing for the same team,” Kodie mutters as we amble back to the dressing room to finish up for the night.

“They’re probably hoping for it. It’ll boost ratings.”

“True.”

Silence falls between us, leaving just our heavy footsteps to echo around us in the quiet hallway.

“I miss those old times,” I say, the words leaving my lips without instruction. “I know I was the one who fucked it all up. I wish I could go back and act differently, but that first year in college was the hardest of my life and…shit.” I drag my hand down my face, uncomfortable as fuck. “I didn’t know how to handle it all, and I took it out on the person I probably needed the most.”

Kodie turns to look at me, but he doesn’t say a word. Not for at least ten agonizingly long seconds.