Steele (Arizona Vengeance #9) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,16
our center, Jett right-winger, and Bain and Riggs defensemen. I’m the last part of the line, playing left wing.
The mood is high because we won, and most of the chatter revolves around reliving the glory plays tonight or scuffles some of the players got in. At one point, our team captain, Bishop Scott, walks over to give us personal congratulations. It’s been his routine since he assumed the captaincy last year.
“That was a sweet goal,” he compliments Kane. It was fed off a pass from Jett, so he turns to him and grins. “Just as sweet assist.”
Bishop moves off to the third line, and Kane shifts to me. “I swear I thought you had that goal in the third.”
“Clanged right off the fucking pipe,” Bain grumbles.
I shrug. I’ve been in the league for longer than most of these guys, and I don’t obsess over every missed goal anymore. I know I can’t make a hundred percent, but as long as I give a hundred and ten percent of my effort, I’m satisfied.
The shaking of my legs tells me I did.
“What are you guys doing tonight?” Jett asks. He’s the youngest on our line at twenty-five, and he’s always wanting to go out and party after a win. “Some Sneaky Saguaro?”
He’s referring to the restaurant/bar here in Phoenix that has become our unofficial hangout after games.
“I’m in,” Kane says as he removes a skate. “I bet Aaron is, too.”
“Why is that?” I ask curiously.
“Our women folk have decided to go camping tonight,” Kane replies with a grin.
Tipping my head back, I laugh. Leave it to Mollie and Clarke to do something like that, especially since Mollie is a travel blogger.
“I’m in,” Bain replies. He’s closer to Jett’s age, and they’ve been hanging out a lot lately.
As expected, Riggs doesn’t answer at all. He’s an intensely quiet man unless we’re out on the ice, and, so far, no one has been able to break the barrier with him. He’s not rude, just a little standoffish. He doesn’t engage in small talk, so you best believe if he says something, it’s probably important.
“What about you, Jim?” Kane asks as I stand from the bench, having pulled my skates off.
My hands go to the hem of my sweater. Before I lift it, I shake my head. “I’m out.”
“Doing something with Lucy after the game?” he inquires.
The sweater comes off, and I toss it in the bottom of my cubby where equipment personnel will pick up all of our gear for cleaning. “Nah. It’s a school night.”
Which wouldn’t ordinarily be a deal-breaker on game night, but Lucy decided she didn’t want to come to the game—not even my enticement of offering her friends tickets changed her mind. Not going to say it didn’t hurt my feelings just a tad, since she used to come to most.
But that was almost a different life before Ella asked me to leave.
On the flip side, although Lucy didn’t want to come to the game tonight, our entire day and evening yesterday went way better than expected. Admittedly, her attitude buoyed after I told her I’d think about a puppy.
“Then come out with us,” Jett urges since I seemingly have nothing to hold me back. It’s exactly what I’ve done after most games we’ve won since the split from Ella.
“I actually have plans,” I reply as I start to work on removing all my padded protectors.
That causes Kane’s head to whip my way. “A date?”
I know why this causes him confusion because he was my stalking ride-or-die a few weeks ago when I tailed Ella and Mr. Ordinary, and he knows I want my wife back.
“Not a date,” I assure him. “But I am going over to Ella’s to talk to her.”
Of course, Ella has no idea I’m coming over, but I like catching her off guard.
“Nice,” Kane says, nodding his head with a knowing look. “You go and ‘talk’ with her.”
He puts up air quotations when he says the word “talk”.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a dick. We’re just talking.”
Snorting, Kane turns his attention to his own pads, but he does ask, “How was your night with Lucy?”
“Great,” I drawl, followed by a chuckle. “As long as you don’t count the emotional blackmailing of a thirteen-year-old asking for a puppy.”
Kane barks out a laugh, as do Bain and Jett. Riggs appears not to be listening, stoically quiet as ever.
“She wants a puppy,” I continue. “But I’m not sure she’s ready to care for one. She thinks she is