Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,4
his shirt.
“You’ve got a little frown in between your brows. Angie would say you’re being all scowly.”
“Did you just do air quotes?”
A shrug. “They’re endearing.”
“No,” Ethan said. “They’re really not.”
“So, does the mope have to do with a certain brunette who won’t give you the time of day?”
Ethan’s eyes shot up, a critical error that had him giving away his hand before he’d been ready to. This was why he was shit at poker, and he knew he was fucked when Max’s eyes sharpened. He was one of the worst gossips on the team, perhaps only eclipsed by Brit.
Though, Coop was honing his skills.
Pretty soon, they’d have three Musketeers to contend with.
Ethan shoved his shoes on. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hmm,” Max said, leaning back in his stall and crossing his arms behind his head, “and here I thought you’d be better at lying.”
Ethan laughed. “You saw me last poker night. How could you possibly think that?”
Max smirked. “True.” A beat. “So, win Dani over yet?”
He froze. Fucking motherfucker was such an asshole . . . and too damned inquisitive for anyone’s good. “Don’t you have to get home to your family?” he grumbled.
“Not right at the moment.”
Great. He sighed, slipped into his jacket, then risked a look out of the corner of his eye.
Max was still staring at him.
“What?” he asked again. “I’m not talking about Dani.”
“Ah. No progress. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” He shrugged. “It’s . . . not fine, but I’m not going to pursue something she doesn’t want. I’m not an asshole.”
“No, you’re not. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” His face went serious. “I could—”
“No. Thanks, though, man.”
Max nodded, was surprisingly quiet as they went through the remaining motions of getting ready to go.
“So, aside from the lack of progress with the unnamed brunette tech guru, I also detect a dash of sad. Did you fail a pop quiz or something?”
“No, I most certainly did not,” he said.
“You’re getting straight As, aren’t you?”
“My GPA is beside the point.” He grinned. “Also, so what if I am?”
Max slugged him. “Brawn. Brains. It’s not fair, man. Look at this”—he held up his arm, pointed to his bicep, which was respectable in the hockey realm where lean strength was valued over grizzly bear status like Ethan had—“it’s puny in comparison.”
“You have tree trunks like this,” Ethan said, holding up his own arm, “and you’d crush Angie. She’s tiny.”
“Maybe.”
“Speaking of Angie, I heard she was pregnant again. Congrats.”
Max smiled. “Thanks, man.”
“Is Brayden excited to be a big brother again?” he asked.
“He’s a teenager,” Max said. “He’s not excited about much, unless it’s some new TikTok trend.” A sigh. “But he didn’t sulk off to his room”—Max smiled—“and he stopped after school today to pick up Angie’s favorite milkshake from the Dairy, so really, even though he is a teenager, he isn’t too bad of one.”
“Brayden’s a good kid.”
Max shook his head, still smiling. “Yeah, he is.”
Brit walked up, waved a hand in his direction. “What’s going on with this face?”
Ethan sighed, waited for Max to dish.
Surprisingly, he didn’t, just silently watched Brit as she studied him with laser focus.
“I failed that pop quiz you were teasing me about earlier,” he said.
A blip of quiet, Brit’s expression stern. “So, you’re not going to tell me why you’re scowly and moody?”
No fucking way. But he didn’t say that, just lifted a brow and waited.
Silence.
Max stood up, clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “See ya.” And then the fucker walked off, leaving him in Brit’s clutches.
“Spill,” she ordered. “Tell me how I can help.”
And that right there was why the nosiness was tolerable, even welcome, though significantly less so when it was directed at him. Because Brit and everyone else on this team actually gave a shit. They wanted to know every detail, yes, but it wasn’t to ridicule and scorn. It was because they wanted everyone to be happy.
“Want to be my study buddy?”
Brit’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, you failed that quiz, Eth.” She pointed two fingers at herself then at Ethan. “Watching you.”
Max poked his head back into the conversation. “And you know the gossip train is, too.” He lifted a fist, raised it up and down. “Choo-choo!”
“You guys are hilarious,” Ethan muttered.
“Damn right, we are.” And with that, Max walked out of the locker room, waving goodbye to the rest of the team, most of whom were in various states of their postgame routine or getting ready to follow him out.
Brit gave him one narrowed look then turned and hit