Brett kicked his feet up on the table. “Where were you last night? I was going to see if you wanted to hit the bar, but you weren’t here when I stopped home.”
“You went to the bar at five?” Tyler took a drink.
“No, we went to Moxies, then Dusty Rose. Ginger was playing.” He waggled an eyebrow. Tyler shook his head. “Dude, you know she wants to hit that.” Brett ran his hands through his hair. “It’s silly, bud. You know that, right? How you can walk through any door and have every woman salivating over—”
“Yeah, I get it. Thank you.” He grinned and drank the last of his shake.
“Foul.” Brett laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he rinsed out his cup and placed it in the sink. He leaned in. “Do you want to tell whoever you left in the sheets that she’s not allowed to eat my leftovers?”
Tyler shoved him, and Brett laughed, pushing on his shoes and grabbing his duffel. Their hockey bags, sticks, and skates were still in the truck. One less thing to carry down the steps. He stalked back to his room and grabbed his overnight bag.
He hadn’t brought someone home in . . . well, a week, and Brett was still giving him crap.Why hadn’t he brought someone home in a week?He’d had plenty of opportunities. Ginger wasn’t the only one making a play, his unanswered text messages were proof of that. Work had been busy, but that excuse felt hollow even as he thought it.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and followed Brett down the stairs and out the door.He didn’t want to bring someone home.That was the honest, pathetic truth.
It was being around Troy again. Seeing his father flirting with the real estate agent at one of his properties when Tyler knew he had a girlfriend back at his apartment made Tyler’s own flirtations sparkle less. He hated what Troy had done to his mom before they split, and seeing the man in action felt like a cheap shot against the boards.
He might not be boyfriend material, but at least he wasn’t that guy. He never cheated on women because he never got serious with them. He couldn’t hurt them if they never had expectations in the first place.
“Bud, unlock my door. It’s cold as balls.” Brett blew into his hands.
Tyler opened the door to his truck and hit the button. They threw their bags in the backseat on top of their frozen equipment and got in, then started south toward Sean’s.
The image of Emma’s eyes peeking out at him from under her lashes flashed in his head as they passed the Tim Hortons on Shaganappi. He’d thought about sending her a message last night after he got home but hadn’t known what to say. Would that be weird? It seemed like she’d enjoyed herself as much as he had.
Tyler rechecked his notifications at the next light. Emma hadn’t sent anything last night, and there wasn’t a message yet this morning.Why would she be up this early on a Saturday?She was probably still dead asleep. In her bed. Wearing—
“It’s green, bud.”
Tyler hit the gas.
* * *
The passenger van was packed. Tyler somehow scored shotgun after they filled up with gas in Kindersley, and he nearly sighed as he stretched out his legs.
“I’m surprised André didn’t fight you for that seat.” Sean grinned and called over the seat. “Probably because he knows who won the war the first time.”
André balled up a napkin from breakfast and threw it at the back of Sean’s head, and laughed. “Faire le boss de bécosses!”
Sean ducked. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Your country is bilingual—you should know!” André pulled a cigarette from his pocket, but Country swiped it.
“Not in the van,Francois.”
André threw up his hands. “I can’t live under these conditions.”
Tyler laughed. André joined the team last year but was still one of the new guys, like him. How he could smoke a pack a day and still beat most players on the ice to the puck was beyond him. Probably because he was still technically in his twenties.
Then there was Country. He’d never played pro, but his stickhandling was better than half the guys Tyler skated with in Toronto. Country attributed it to years of roping on the ranch but had never explained how those two things could possibly be related.
“Guys, we should play that licence plate game. I do it with my kids all the—” Curtis stopped talking when groans erupted around him. He reached for Darcy’s earbud, but before he could rip it from his ear, Darcy grabbed his wrist.
“You want to keep this hand, eh?”
Curtis grinned and mouthed,‘Do you want to play a game?’
Darcy dropped his arm and rolled his eyes, then returned to staring at his phone. Darcy was a dick, but Tyler understood why Sean kept him around. He mostly kept to himself as long as people didn’t piss him off, and he was a killer defenseman.
