Carter doesn’t appear to find it funny. With a battle cry that echoes across the rink, he tackles me to the ice, smothering my face with his glove.
“Get off me!” I yell, flailing my arms. “Adam! Help!”
“Jesus Christ,” Coach mutters, spraying us with a shower of ice when he stops next to us. “Sometimes I think I’m coaching peewee, not men’s professional hockey. My daughter is more grown-up than you two, and she’s an infant.” He snaps his fingers and gestures behind him. “Beckett, Andersen, off your asses and give me five laps.”
Carter rolls to his feet and tugs me up. “Race ya.”
I shake the snow from my jersey. “You’re so unnecessarily competitive.”
“Yeah, and I—”
“Loser buys lunch!” Frosty air nips at my cheeks as I tear down the ice, Carter hot on my heels, hollering after me. And that’s exactly how, two hours later, I wind up facedown in a pile of chicken wings and pizza I don’t have to pay for, with Carter still giving me the stink eye, grumbling about cheating.
“You don’t know how to lose,” Emmett tells him, dropping an entire slice of pizza in his mouth. “Not a good trait.”
“I didn’t lose! He cheated!” Carter grabs the slice from my hand. “Gimme that.”
Adam slides another slice onto my plate. “Jennie all moved into her new place?”
Carter nods. “Moved in yesterday.” His gaze meets mine. “You see her this morning?”
I don’t lie often—this morning excluded, when I may or may not have said I was afraid of elevators, and that I hurt my knee—and I’m shit at it. But there was something vulnerable in Jennie’s eyes today, something sad and uncertain hidden behind her usual boldness. Something that said she didn’t want anyone to see her anything less than confident, not the way her chin trembled, the way she swallowed when I mentioned the day, or the way she hadn’t bothered to dress.
So I lie. Again.
“I haven’t seen her.”
“I thought you might if you were sneaking outta your friend’s place again.”
Heat claws up my neck. “I wasn’t sneaking out, and I haven’t been there again.”
“Finally got laid, eh, buddy?” Emmett clinks his glass against mine.
“Is sleeping with someone who lives in your building a good idea?” Amusement and concern mix in Adam’s question. “Or is it serious?”
“It’s not serious. And we weren’t really sleeping together.” At the looks I get, I relent. “Okay, but it was only a couple times. It’s hard to meet girls. All you guys wanna do is look at pictures of your wives and talk about how their hair smells like banana bread or some shit. You’re all pussy-whipped.”
“Adam is whipped by no pussy,” Carter retorts. “He’s a free man, and thank fuck for that.”
Adam chuckles, his cheeks pink. “Wish I could be a better wingman for you. I’m just not really ready for a relationship.”
Carter shoves a deep-fried pickle into his mouth. “You could just fuck, like Garrett.”
“I’m not—” I bury my face in my hands. “Ugh.”
He points at me with his half-eaten pickle. “Jennie was not impressed with you, by the way.”
“What? Why?” Stupid question. Between the wedding and the run-in at the condo, I’ve made less than stellar impressions. I’m hoping today fixed that, even if my original plan was to leave the drinks outside her door and never tell her they were from me.
“Something about not wanting to be subjected to you fucking her neighbor.”
It’s Carter’s fault, but then it almost always is. Had he told me they’d be there, I absolutely wouldn’t have been at Emily’s. Fuck, he hadn’t even told me his sister was moving in. The woman turns me on while simultaneously scaring me shitless with only the look in her eyes, which is always super fucking ferocious, and now I have to lie so we don’t wind up in the elevator together.
Carter fishes his ringing phone out of his pocket. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Jennie. We were just talk—” His smile falls. “Whoa, hold on. Why are you crying? Take a deep breath.” He runs a frantic hand through his hair, tugging. “I don’t know how to—I don’t—how can I—I don’t know how to help you from here,” he finally settles on, half scream, and his eyes get wider the longer he listens to Jennie’s frantic rambling.
My experience in dealing with upset females is extremely limited to my three younger sisters. As complicated as they are, I don’t think they even tip the scale. Still, I find myself murmuring, “Remind her to breathe,” to Carter.
He nods. “Okay, Jennie. Take a deep breath.” He inhales deeply, over and over, winding his hand in a circle as if Jennie can see him. “Okay, good. Now tell me again.” His brows tug together. “Princess Bubblegum?”
My beer slides down the wrong tube, and I cough, sputtering into my hand.
“I don’t know where Princess Bubblegum is.” Carter sighs. “We’ll find her, ’kay? I promise. She’s gotta be around somewhere.”
I’m on my fourth slice of pizza when Carter hangs up the call, explaining about Jennie’s missing stuffed animal, the one their dad got her, and I know the second he sets those puppy dog eyes on me that I’m fucked. Royally fucked.
I shake my head before he even opens his mouth.
“Please,” he begs.
“Aw, man.” I fold over the table. “C’mon.”
“Just check on her on your way up. Just a minute. She wouldn’t stop crying.”
“She doesn’t even like me! She hates me!”
“She loves you!”
“You didn’t even try to make it sound convincing!” I slump in my chair. “She’s not gonna wanna see me. Probably throw a pillow at my head or something.”
“Nah.” Carter grins. “It’s the heels you gotta watch out for.”
What am I doing?
Stupid condo. Stupid Carter.
No, I’m not doing it. I’m not going. I refuse. Carter can’t make me. And Jennie won’t know if I don’t go. It’s not like Carter’s gonna tell her he sent me to check up on her.
It’s decided. I won’t go. I press for the penthouse and sink back against the elevator wall with a relieved sigh.
I watch the light above the doors bounce from one floor to the next, and as it climbs toward that 21, I groan.
I slam the emergency stop button the moment I pass Jennie’s floor, catching myself on the railing when the elevator bounces to a stop. It whirs to life when I hit it a second time, and I jab 21 just once, nice and hard, and drag my hands over my face.
A minute later, I’ve got my hockey bag over my shoulder, sticks in my hand, and ear pressed to Jennie’s door. The silence I’m met with convinces me everything’s okay. Maybe she found Princess Jellybean.
A whimper stops me in my tracks when I turn to leave. The broken sob that follows tugs on my weak heartstrings. With a sigh, I tuck my sticks under my arm and knock.
“Go away!” Jennie shouts from inside.