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I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so contented, and I was grateful to see such a dear friend and a good person get everything they deserved. He’d been through so much the past few years—the death of his best friend and teammate, a man who had been more like a brother.
If anyone deserved to find happiness, it was Frasier and Bryn. I liked to think that Derek would’ve been pleased for them.
Even though Frasier shunned social media, I convinced him to let me take a few selfies to post online.
“Did you decide on a name for the baby yet?” I asked.
“We’re still working on it.”
“Logan is perfect for a boy or a girl, just saying.” I grinned.
He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Boone approached us, clapping a hand on Frasier’s shoulder. “Nah. Boone is a better name. Right, Fizzy?”
“Not you too,” Frasier grumbled, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.
“We’ve got a pool going on names and birthday,” Boone said, ignoring Frasier. “You want in, Frost?”
“Heck yeah. I’ll text you.”
“Wicked game tonight.” He held up his hand for a high five, and I slapped his palm. “You’ve gotta teach me how you do such fast transitions.”
I thought about Boone’s style of play. He was powerful, but he relied too much on aggressive hits. Not that he wasn’t talented, but the rules of the game were slightly different in the PWHL from the NHL. It made me think differently, and I was used to analyzing both methods of play—both for the podcast, but also for myself. I was always looking for ways to improve my game.
Finally, I said, “Try to rely more on your core and hips than your feet.”
“I’ll work on that. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Carson wandered closer, and I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, unable to stay still as he joined our group. It was the first time we’d been in the same room together since last July, unless you counted a photo op earlier in the day, which I didn’t. I’d watched him play against my brother in Dallas, but that wasn’t the same. As we made small talk as if we barely knew each other, I found the prospect of our secret friendship both thrilling and bothersome.
Carson had become a good friend over the past few months—a confidant and adviser, someone who made me laugh, someone I talked to nearly daily. But no one knew that, not even some of my closest friends. Not Frasier or Bryn, Kylie or Georgia. And definitely not my brother.
I kept telling myself that I could be friends with whoever I wanted. But the fact that I felt the need to continue to keep my relationship with Carson a secret should’ve been a red flag. Unfortunately, when it came to Carson, I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“You good?” Frasier asked, eyes full of concern. He was going to be such a good dad. He was already so protective and nurturing.
“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Just tired after the game.”
“Do you still want to grab dinner before our flight to Chicago?”
“I’d love that,” I said, cherishing time with my friends from home. It was funny to think of LA as home when I hadn’t lived there in years, yet that’s what it was to me. Home.
Maybe it wasn’t the place so much as the people who lived there, though I did miss the rustle of the palm trees, the crash of the ocean. I missed being outside in the sun. But most of all, I missed time with my friends.
I thought of the pie Carson had sent me for Thanksgiving and the note that had accompanied it. At the time, it had seemed so unexpected. But the more I got to know him, the more I realized how much he paid attention to detail. How much he cared about those around him. How much he cared about me.
Boone draped an arm over my shoulder as we headed through the tunnels to a back exit where an SUV was waiting, the others trailing behind us. I raised my phone up high to capture everyone, and they waved as I shot a quick video.
“So—” Boone asked. “What do I have to do to be named as your Hottie of the Week?”
I choked on a laugh as Carson and Frasier climbed into the third row of the SUV. Boone and I followed, taking the captain’s chairs in the middle row. Music played softly in the background, an upbeat instrumental song. Steph and Annika and some of my other teammates planned to meet us at the restaurant.
“Aw, Boone,” I teased. “Are you feeling left out?”
Boone was one of the top defense players in the league. He’d won countless actual awards as an athlete, but he seemed to care about this one—a silly award my brother and I had made up for the podcast.
