arm. “Christ. Sorry.”
Henrik lowered the resistance on his bike and sat up. Was this where he was supposed to comfort the guy? That was the captain’s job, one he’d never wanted. Walters would’ve known exactly what to say in this moment. Only he wasn’t here anymore.
The absence of his friend kicked at Henrik, but he shrugged it off. Guys were shuffled around all the time. Traded, put on waivers, let go—no team remained consistent for long. But Scott had been there since Henrik had joined the Glaciers. Now Henrik was one of the last of the old guard, and he had no idea how to handle that position.
“Just skate your game,” he finally said to Sparks. “It’s all you can do. Stressing about line position won’t help.”
“I know.” Sparks inhaled deep through his nose, lips pressed tight. “It just sucks being on the other side.”
Henrik frowned. “Other side?”
Sparks glanced around. They were in the back row and five other guys were spread out, occupying bikes, all with headphones on. “The side going out instead of coming in,” he explained. “It was a helluva lot more fun when I was the one working my way into the starting pair instead of scrambling to hang on to it.”
That Henrik understood. “It sucks getting old.”
“Fuck. When did twenty-six get old?”
“When you started playing hockey.”
Sparks’s bark of laughter shot out with a bitter edge. “Fucking game.”
Yes. It was. A fucking game. That was it. But it was their life. What they breathed and lived day after day.
He checked the time and slowed his pace. “How’s your fiancée doing?” Changing the topic seemed like a good idea.
“Grumbling because the season’s starting again.”
And maybe not.
“She hates that I’m gone so much,” Sparks went on. “It’s always hard at the start. She gets used to it after a few months.” That was probably another reason why the man hadn’t wanted to go out on Sunday. They’d been on the road Tuesday and Wednesday for games.
Henrik came to a stop and grabbed his stuff. “Play your game,” he told Sparks. “The rest will sort out. Hell, the season hasn’t even started yet.” And they all knew how quickly things could change once it did.
“I know. Thanks.”
He landed a quick fist-bump before heading back to his locker. Again, he kept to himself as he showered and changed, one eye on the time. He refused to be late.
“Hey,” Hauke called as Henrik strode toward the exit. “Aren’t you grabbing some food?” Hauke motioned toward the lounge where the after-practice meal was laid out. Henrik was usually one of the first guys in there and often the last to leave—if his current girlfriend didn’t have plans for him.
His stomach rumbled at the enticing scents. He hooked his bag over his shoulder and shook his head. “I’ve got a meeting.” He ducked out before Hauke could respond or anyone else could comment on his whipped ass or the short leash his girlfriend had him on.
He might ignore the razzing, but he wasn’t ignorant to what the guys thought of his girlfriends or his behavior around them. Screw them all. They were clueless about a lot of things that weren’t any of their fucking business.
The air was ripe with the scent of dead leaves and pending rain. A glance at the darkened sky showed the threat would probably become real in the near future.
The drive to the café from the Glaciers’ practice facility wasn’t too long and traffic worked in his favor so he arrived five minutes early. It was a seat-yourself place and he found an empty table near the back. He’d forgone the baseball hat and simply hoped that no one recognized him.
He’d already downed one glass of water and was halfway through his second before Jacqui slipped through the door. Barged in, really. The clouds had opened up to release the downpour he’d barely escaped.
She tossed back her hood and shook out her hair as she wiped her feet on the doormat. Damp tendrils curled around her forehead, and her green rain jacket stuck to her form in a layer of wet material. She was still beautiful. The kick to his chest left him winded.
Her smile was open and warm when she spotted him across the room. Damn. He slid out of the booth to wait for her, nerves rushing in to rumble around in his empty stomach.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, still grinning. She slung her backpack into the booth and unzipped her soaked jacket. “I almost beat the