“In the kitchen,” I call back. I won’t admit it to them, but, while I don’t really feel like entertaining, I am starving.
Finn plops onto one of the stools at my island, sliding boxes of pizza down on the countertop, grinning at me, red hair askew over his forehead.
“You doing okay, man?” JD asks, leaning against my counter, his French-Canadian accent catching on his words.
I exhale, running a hand over my jaw. “Yeah. Team’s doing better, we actually have a fucking shot at the playoffs.”
“Not really talking about the team, Rhodes.” Beck tilts his head, watching me too closely. “We were there for the game. We mean the other stuff.”
Ah.
I focus on lining up beer-bottle caps on the counter, suddenly hyperaware of the tension between them and me. “My dad’s still calling. But it’s fine.”
There is a brief pause, then the room explodes in a flurry of voices talking over one another.
“Have you told Coach yet?” Tyler asks from the kitchen table. Callum nods next to him. I shake my head no.
“Rhodes. Tell someone. He’s going to screw up the career you just miraculously pulled out of the toilet,” Finn says, all traces of joking and best friend playfulness gone from his voice. I know it’s bad if even Finn isn’t joking about it.
My jaw tics. He’s right. He knows it. I know it. Every person in this room knows it.
“Yeah,” I concede, flexing my hands just to have something to do with them in the thick tension of my kitchen. “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to Coach.”
Five pairs of eyes stare at me, trying to decide if I’m bullshitting them. One by one, they finally nod—an unwavering wall of loyalty I hardly feel like I deserve.
Finn breaks the tension first. “All right, Rhodesy. But we’ve got your back. Stop trying to handle all the hard shit all by yourself.”
Something in my chest cracks a little bit. I think I take for granted how lucky I am to have a room full ofguys who genuinely care if I’m doing okay, and who can come pull my head out of my ass when I need it.
I picture Monroe alone on the ice. Alone at the rink. Alone in her apartment. Alone all of the goddamned time. I’d be in a hell of a lot shittier place if I didn’t have these guys, and she has no one. She’s pulling herself out of her rock bottom all by herself.
“All right, now that the hard shit is out of the way,” Beck grins devilishly, slapping his hands on the counter, “let’s discuss the other elephant in the ice rink.”
I groan. “Beck, leave it.”
“Nope.” He pops thepobnoxiously. “Let’s talk about your little crush on the coach’s daughter.”
The kitchen erupts with a roar.
“I don’t have a crush on Monroe,” I grit through my teeth. “Who even says that? What are we, eighth graders?”
“My man, you broke Jax’s nose over her.” Callum grins.
I grimace. I did do that. “He was being an asshole.”
“Okay? Jax is an asshole to everyone.” JD throws his two cents in.
I glare at him. “Coach would have been pissed if he heard him talking about her like that.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and scowl at the group. It only eggs them on.
“Yeah, Coach wasn’t the only one, clearly.” Tyler snorts into his beer.
I press my mouth into a thin, stubborn line. “Sloane already grilled me about this. I do not need it from all of you too.”
Beck chuckles at my mention of Sloane.
My eyes snap to him. “Not for you, Larsson.” The room quiets, eyes volleying between the two of us.
He puts his hands up, mock surrender. “Relax, I know better.” He winks and I grimace. I can never tell if he’s serious when it comes to my sister. “Don’t change the subject.”