Home > Books > Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(43)

Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(43)

Author:Meghan Quinn

What’s crazy to me is that some of the guys, two of our biggest bruisers on the team, change their underwear between every period.

Do you know what it takes to change your underwear between periods? A lot of goddamn work that I’m not interested in.

“Are you going to call her when you get back to your hotel?”

“If she’s awake,” I say while shedding my absolutely drenched shin pads.

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to say to her?”

“Sort of. I think I’m just going to be honest and tell her how I feel.”

Posey pats me on the back. “Wow, what a novel idea.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Hey, I heard of this bar in Vancouver that we need to check out. When we get home in a few days, you game?” Taters asks as he takes a seat next to me. He’s usually the last to arrive in the locker room after the game—only if we win—because he hangs out with fans, signs some things, and takes pictures. He’s been known to give away more pucks than anyone on the team, which is impressive because Posey will hand out pucks for candy, and the fans know this. There will be signs lined up along the Plexi, asking Posey to trade a puck for a Milky Way. He goes for it every time.

My eyes float to Pacey, who’s staring daggers at me.

“Uh, no,” I answer. “I’m probably going to be staying in for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh, because of the—”

“Don’t say it.” I don’t want him to clue in the other guys with what’s going on. The last thing we need is to start more fighting within the team. “But yes, I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Look at you growing up,” Taters says. “I mean, you’ve always been the responsible one, but this is rather mature of you.”

“Can you not make a big deal about it?”

Posey leans forward and whispers, “He’s still having a hard time learning how to communicate with her. He told her he ate an apple today, and that was it. That was his text.”

I shed my pants. “Can we not hash it out, please? I have it under control now.”

“Didn’t seem like it this afternoon,” Posey mutters.

“Why are you going to Posey for girl advice when I’m clearly the one you should be asking?” Taters asks.

“Why are you the one?” I ask. “No offense, but you’re not currently attached to anyone, and the last person you dated . . . well, it’s unclear what happened between you two.”

“Not all of us are a tell-all autobiography for the world, Hornsby. Some people like privacy.”

Smiling, I say, “Well then, take this as a hint. Give me some fucking privacy.”

I take off toward the showers. We have a flight to Denver we have to catch tonight, and I want to get on the bus as quickly as possible so I can call Penny.

I’ve seen the guys on the team with families hustle up after a game because they want to call their wives and their kids before they go to bed. It’s odd to think I’m joining that club now.

Not quite sure how I feel about that other than I don’t really have a choice in the matter.

Penny: Yes, I’m awake.

Damn. I kind of hoped she’d be sleeping or at least pretend to be sleeping. But maybe she needs to talk just as much as I need to. And when I say talk, I mean just tell her how I wish everything was normal between us.

I grabbed a bowl of chili and a to-go box of cornbread for dinner from the players’ table and then practically sprinted to the bus with the rest of the family men. Needless to say, a few of them were shocked to see me.

I settle myself toward the back and up against the window, set my food and bag down, and then slip my earbuds in before taking a deep breath and hitting her name in my phone.

It rings two times, and then she answers, “Hey.”

I swallow as a wave of butterflies shoots up my stomach. I know it’s not the kind of butterflies people get when they see the one they love or their crush walk by. This is nerves. All fucking nerves.

“Hey, Penny.” My voice comes out all gravelly, so I take a quick sip of my water. “How, uh . . . how are you doing?”

There you go, a solid start to a conversation.

“I’m doing okay,” she answers, and I can already feel the tension. It’s obvious that neither of us wants to be in this current situation—on the phone, forcing ourselves to communicate—but we have to make the most of it, which means we need to learn to talk to each other.

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