“About fucking time you got home,” Grayson gripes. “Logan was about to cry if I beat his ass again.”
“Shut the fuck up, asshole.” I chuck a cushion at his head for good measure as Royce’s gaze bounces back and forth between us. Yeah, after our week of barely talking, I’m sure the scene before him looks about as wild as seeing a dolphin in the desert.
“We’re celebrating,” Grayson says jovially, words slurring slightly. Yeah, he’s definitely drunk. I drop my gaze to the bottle of whiskey at his feet, finding it empty. Oh yeah, totally hammered. “We’re in the presence of true greatness, Royce.”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Royce interjects, brows lowered over his cold eyes in confusion.
“Logan’s officially an NHL player,” Gray declares with a raise of his empty bottle.
“Well, it’s not official yet,” I explain.
“No shit, seriously?” Royce says, his stance relaxing as he moves further into the room to claim an empty chair.
“Yeah. Neil Hanoman himself came to talk to Coach today. Told me an offer would be coming my way.”
“Fucking hell, dude, that’s amazing.”
“Thanks, man.” I return Royce’s smile, and the three of us fall into easy banter for the rest of the night, an unspoken truce called between us. Of course, it helps that Gray is drunk off his ass.
“Does he seem okay to you?” I murmur quietly to Royce later that evening. Gray is half asleep on the sofa. He’s been slurring his speech and talking utter shit for the last hour.
Royce scoffs quietly. “Are any of us okay?”
“Fair point, he just… I dunno. He looked troubled when I came home earlier.”
Royce shrugs. “Perhaps he’s finally realizing what an ass he’s been.”
My lips twist. “Maybe.”
“So, the Penguins, huh?” he asks, side-eyeing me. “That’s a long way from here.”
I huff out a breath. “Yeah. I realized that the second I left the stadium.”
“Are you gonna take it?” he asks bluntly.
Sagging into the couch cushions, I admit, “I dunno.” Picking absently at the label of my empty beer, I hold his gaze. “What would you do?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t answer that for you. Only you can figure out what you want more and what you’re willing to sacrifice.”
Ugh, yeah, that’s what I thought.
My brows furrow as I try to imagine my life without Riley in it… not having her at my games. Not seeing how her face blushes when I bring her coffee or how she lights up when she discusses a topic she’s enthusiastic about.
Could I live without any of that? Without her?
Sensing my heavy thoughts, Royce nudges my shoulder. “Help me get him up to bed.”
Between us, we get Gray’s arms thrown over our shoulders, and it takes some careful maneuvering as we climb the stairs to make sure all of us don’t go careening backward. What a sad fucking story that would be if I finally made it big, only to snap my spine trying to get this drunk asshole to his bed.
“Jesus Christ,” I pant when we finally reach his bedroom on the third floor. “For a lean dude, he weighs a fucking ton.”
Royce just grunts his agreement as we unceremoniously dump the asshole on his bed.
As we stare down at him, I confess, “I’ve missed nights like tonight.”
“Same,” Royce admits wearily. “But until he pulls his head out of his ass…”
“I know. I just wish he’d hurry up about it.” I step away from the bed, pausing when Gray mumbles something. “What did he say?”
