Page 36 of Hat Trick
“Mitchy,” he calls out, jumping to his feet. “I have an awkward question for you.”
“No, I will not get a dick piercing to match yours,” I answer, and Grant snickers. “Not my style.”
“If you ever change your mind, I’ll give you the name of my guy. He does good work.”
“Never going to change my mind. What’s up?” I ask.
“I’ve been looking at some photos online but, ah, I was wondering if I could—” He gives me a sheepish glance. “I’ve never met someone with a prosthetic leg, and I want to learn how it works. In case… I don’t know. In case you need anything? In case I meet someone else who has one? Not that you aren’t capable,” he adds in a rush. “I’d just want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. Being an ally without being a dick, you know? Or like I’m some savior. Could I, um, see what it looks like?”
The room is silent. I’m sure some of my teammates are wondering the same thing, and this might be the best time to tackle the elephant in the room. Hudson said they’re my brothers, and he’s right. We’ve all seen each other at our highest highs and lowest lows, and if I can’t be myself around them, I’m never going to want to be myself around anyone.
“Yeah.” My voice is thick. This seems like an important step, and I grab a chair shoved in the corner. I set my crutches on the ground, sit down and unlace my shoe, pulling it off. “This is my right foot. It doesn’t bend and flex the way my left foot does. I can’t show you the rest of the leg without stripping, but—” I work the bottom of my joggers up over the metal pylon. “This is what my calf and shin look like now. Further up is my mechanical knee, a valve, and a socket, which is where my limb sits in a liner I use to protect my skin. There’s also a pin that goes into the socket.”
“Holy shit.” Ethan sits in front of me. “That’s fucking incredible.”
“This isn’t the final product, and I’m still learning how to use the prosthetic,” I admit. “A few sessions with Lexi though, and I can already see a difference in how I’m walking and standing.”
“Lexi, huh?” Maverick grins. “How’s that going?”
“Good, yeah.” I scratch the back of my neck. I’m not going to tell them seeing her has become the highlight of my day. They’d give me so much shit. “Management almost paired me up with one of the new members of the training staff they brought in, but I shot that shit down.”
“Wonder why,” Liam mumbles, but it’s loud enough for all of us to hear. “Definitely isn’t because of your feelings for her, is it?”
“I don’t have feelings for her.” I flip him off, feeling like I was out there with them for sixty minutes tonight. It’s our usual post-game chirping, the locker room shit-talking I’ve really missed. “It’s because she’s the most qualified for the job.”
“Looking at her ass can’t hurt,” Ethan says, and I kick him. “Ow, you fucker. It was a joke.”
“Don’t talk about her ass. And don’t include her in any of your jokes,” I warn him, then I look down at my lower body. “I’ll wear shorts to morning skate tomorrow so you can see what the rest of my leg looks like.”
“That would be sick. You’re like a bionic superhero,” Grant says.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Want to grab a beer with us?” Hudson offers. “We’re going to head to Johnny’s Place for a round.”
“Water for me,” Maverick says. “I’m back on my no-drinking plan.”
“Because the season is starting?” Ethan scoffs. “Weak. You used to be a party boy, Miller.”
“And now I’m in future dad mode. Emmy is trying to get pregnant, and imagining her carrying my baby is the hottest thing in the fucking world. It means giving up alcohol, and I’m glad to do it.” Maverick’s attention flicks over to me. “What do you say, Mitchy?”
“Thanks for the invite, but I told Lexi I’d get some food with her.” I roll my pant leg down and stand. “I should get going.”
“Oooooh, Mitchy and Lexi, sitting in a tree,” Grant sings, and I wish I had a glove to throw at him. “First comes food, then comes?—”
“I’m leaving. Congrats on the loss,” I say. “Glad to know you all suck without me.”
“Wow. Way to kick us when we’re down, Ri.” Ethan clutches his chest. “Thanks for letting me see your leg!”
“Yeah, yeah.” My fingers fold around the door handle, and I fight back a grin. “It’s good to see you assholes again.”
FOURTEEN
LEXI
Rileyand I settle into a booth at the back of the diner after a short drive from the arena. We made small talk on the way over, casual conversation about my Pilates class tomorrow morning and what shows he’s been watching.
The restaurant is empty, but Riley still put on a baseball hat before we walked inside in an attempt to not to be recognized. Standing at six-two and wearing a jersey with his name stitched across the back makes it almost impossible to hide, but I didn’t put up a fight when he took the side of the table that keeps him from facing the door.
