Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,90

most aren’t,” Mo interrupts with more information. “Hockey is the only one they allow to be open for spectators since we live in ‘hockey heaven’, and the biggest donors demand as much behind-the-scenes access as they can get their dicks into.”

“Over seventy-seven percent of the donations that come into the school are intended for athletic use, and of that percentage, seventy percent are specifically for hockey,” Tatum factually adds.

“Guess that makes sense why they’d be open for the public.”

“What doesn’t make sense is why you’ve never been there and why you don’t plan to be there today,” Poppy pipes in.

I hesitate to answer yet manage to start, “We had a fight…”

“And?!” They quote out in unison.

“And, it was a huge one. And, he hasn’t-”

“Answered a call,” Poppy speaks first.

“Or text,” Tatum warmly follows.

“Or, answered the door,” Mo finishes with an arrogant smirk. “Yeah, we’ve all been through some shit, Crash. It happens. It doesn’t mean you just throw in the towel and take yourself out of the tournament.”

Tournament?

What tournament?

Is she calling dating a tournament?

Is it weird that comparison feels oddly accurate?

“And, no matter how mad you are or they are, sometimes you just gotta put that bullshit aside for a minute, to be there when someone really needs you,” Mo continues, dark gaze filled with more compassion than I’ve ever seen her have.

“And, Rhinehart needs you,” Poppy promptly acknowledges. “Your support is gonna be the support that matters most to him, especially after the bullshit that went down Saturday night.”

I want to ask for the details I’m sure they have.

The reason he wasn’t on the ice and what took him so long to get out to his car.

I want to ask about how he’s doing and what’s he said and how much pain he’s in, yet it doesn’t feel like my place.

Like being there at tryouts for him doesn’t feel like my place.

Defeat beats me further down into my seat, “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“I don’t care what you think,” Tatum unexpectedly bites.

“Oh, damn,” Mo mutters, tossing her friend an impressed look.

“What I do know is now is not the time to be fucking selfish. Now is not the time to care about what the world thinks or the mistake you clearly made or the drama llama wiggling its ass all over this campus. Right now is the time you really need to give a fuck about the guy who clearly gives a fuck about his team. The guy who clearly gives a fuck about his friends. The guy who clearly gives a fuck about you!” Her foot stomp pushes me further back against the couch cushion. “Be supportive! Be there for him! Prove you give a shit by showing up!”

“Thank you for coming to her Ted Talk,” Mo jovially says on a wave of a hand her direction.

“Get dressed,” Poppy giggles her demand. “And, wear your jersey.”

“I…” The newest confession chokes me as much as the earlier one. “I don’t have one of those.”

“You are like the worst hockey significant other ever,” Mo playfully scolds.

“And, that’s coming from her,” Tatum slips in on the teasing.

Poppy offers me a bright, hopeful smile. “We’re gonna help fix that, though.”

Puzzlement can’t evade my expression. “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

“We’re doing it for Rhinehart,” she instantly corrects. “He’s part of this pack, and we take care of the pack.”

“What are we supposed to do? Howl at that?” Mo continues poking at the situation.

Poppy rolls her eyes while her twitching nose bounces around her glasses. “Change pants and shoes, and we’ll stop by the school shop to get you a jersey with Rhinehart’s number on it. Worst-case scenario is they don’t have one in, and we just have to get a t-shirt that we can add his number to with Stratton’s bedazzling kit. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

“He doesn’t have a bedazzling kit,” Tatum quickly argues. “He has…a set of accessory applicator wands.”

Mo shakes her head in repulsion. “Why do I feel like that’s the same shit?”

“Because it, basically, is.” I rise to my feet. “And, no need to borrow his. I have my own, thank you very much.”

Tatum’s whine is mirth-filled. “Cheeseandrice, there really are two of them.”

The girls laugh together, and I abandon them to quickly get ready for the outing.

Fuck, I do need to be there.

I do need to show him I care.

I do need him to know he matters to me as much as I’ve always mattered to him.

That his needs do