“Cool. You got a second to talk, though?”
I sputter. “Did you just hear anything I said?”
He doesn’t look the least bit contrite. “I know, but it’s important. Ten out of ten.”
My eye roll almost knocks me backward. “Is someone mortally injured and dying?”
“No.”
“Then eat your burger and come talk to me when it dies down a little bit.”
Bryce presses on. “Sumner is getting shipped back to Canada.”
The sound around me grows slightly distorted, my pulse speeding up.
“What?”
“Canada!”
The bell starts dinging in the kitchen. A glance over my shoulder tells me people are impatiently waiting for drinks at the bar. I don’t have time for this problem. Or I wouldn’t . . . if it were about anyone other than Sumner.
I’ve got a teeny-tiny soft spot for the guy. He’s got a huge one for me, but it’s the opposite of soft, if you know what I mean. Unless my radar is broken, he has been nursing a crush on me for a while.
As in, the entire year he’s been playing in Connecticut.
It’s a normal occurrence to catch him staring at me from the back of the dining room, his gargantuan hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, knuckles pale. I work for tips, so flirting is an important part of my job, but flirting with Sumner feels . . . different. Even giving him an innocent peck on the cheek gives me pinpricks on the backs of my knees and elevates my temperature. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask a man out if I felt the spark of attraction, but not Sumner.
No.
I can tell a mile away that he’s on the hunt for someone permanent.
One time, he opened his wallet to pay his tab, and a plastic accordion of family photos dangled out. Nieces, nephews, sisters, parents. Meanwhile, when his teammates open their wallets, the only things that fall out are condoms—and the goalie now looks like he’s ready to use one right here, right now, in the middle of the bar.
“Hey.” I kick him in the back of the leg. “Either get a room or knock it off.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Riggs slurs, smiling down at the dazed girl.
Oh, yeah. Put a fork in her; she’s done.
Next week, she’ll be in here wearing a Bandits jersey.
Once you go hockey boy, you never go back.
Not that I would know. It’s my half brother’s world, and I stay out of it, as much as possible. The absolute last thing I want to do is make things weird between us, so I’ve turned down approximately nine hundred date offers from his teammates. Somewhere along the line—around a year ago, actually—they finally gave up and started treating me more like a sister than a romantic prospect.
The bell dings with more insistency from the kitchen.
Thankfully, the barback has returned from his domestic dispute, and he’s frantically filling orders at the bar. Still, he needs help. “I have to go,” I shout at Bryce, but I’m looking at Sumner, whistling under my breath when he eats his burger in two bites. Two. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Sumner only had a one-year work visa, but it’s expiring! Tomorrow. ”
I rarely see Bryce upset over anything but losing a game, but he’s visibly distressed over this. “Britta, he’s so fucking good, you know? He would have already gone pro, but he had a string of injuries in college. One more year in the amateurs and they’re going to call him up to the development league, maybe even straight to the top. Everyone knows it. He can’t leave now.”
By straight to the top, he means the NHL.
“Can’t he get scouted while playing in Canada?”
“No open spots on any of the best teams—and he needs to be winning to get noticed. He needs us.” He swipes at his hair in frustration. “He’s going to lose momentum waiting for another team to bring him on. It’s fucked, Britta. His bags are literally packed. Right when he’s starting to get some serious attention.”
A crevice is beginning to open in my chest.
Why did it have to be Sumner?
I haven’t admitted it until now, but I feel safer when he’s around. Like I’ve got someone watching over me. Without expecting anything in return.
There’s an air of capability and calm to him that I don’t experience with anyone else.
Even if there is a buzzy undercurrent of heat.
“I’m sorry, Bryce. I’m sure it’s hard to lose a teammate.”
My half brother goes quiet, looking at me funny. “Maybe we don’t have to lose him.”