Page 109 of Playing His Game

“Uh, not seeing you?”

“Meh. I’m easy to miss, being so small and waifish.”

Picks didn’t smile. Damn. Would Adam have to work on perfecting a kidding tone? He’d always enjoyed making people wonder, but if it got in the way of good captaining…

“Okay, what’s with the frown? This is a party.”

“A party because welost,” Picks pointed out.

Okay, yes, Adam felt that, but: “No, a party because we’re a team and we had a great season and now it’s over.”

“Because we lost.”

Adam shrugged, hearing the echo of his younger, less well-rounded self in the words. “Sure. But someone had to. Only one team can go out on a win.”

“Aren’t you, like, sad?”

Was he? Well… yes. But not in the same way he’d have felt last year. Even Adam from October wouldn’t have handled it this well. “Of course. But sulking into my beer won’t change anything. Look, I’m not saying you can’t be sad—be sad, mope if you need to. Eat a tub of ice cream and cry about how the NHL broke your heart. Whatever you need. But being sad at a party with your team is just going to make you feel worse. Trust me, I know.”

“I just—” Picks pulled a face. “I was so sure we had it, you know?”

Adam did know. They’d been up 3–2 in the series before dropping two straight.

“If I hadn’t?—”

“Nope,” Adam cut in gently. “No blaming yourself for a team loss.”

Picks pouted.

Adam felt old. “Most people your age aren’t even out of university. Stop hiding in the corner like your career is over. Have fun. There’s more to life than winning hockey games.” He hauled Picks out of his seat and spun him toward Hallsy, who’d brought his siblings. Adam didn’t know what Picks was into, but he figured most kids his age would be happy to meet one of the equally pretty fraternal Halls twins. “Go say hi. Maybe help Hallsy find the beer.” He thought about that sentence, then amended, “Or the pool. Or snacks.”

“Fine, fine. Captain’s orders, I get it.” He mock-saluted and scurried out of reach.

“Kids these days,” Adam muttered.

“Okay, Grandpa.”

Adam turned, already grinning, to find Mo watching him from his spot against the house. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to hear you give Picks a pretty good pep talk, and to text Jorts about the body-snatcher invasion. ‘More to life than winning hockey’? Who are you?”

Laughing, Adam stepped over the drinks cooler to get into Mo’s space. “Hey, if you have problems with my more stable, well-adjusted headspace, take it up with yourself. You made me this way.”

“Oh yeah?” Mo looked up coyly from under his lashes.

Adam looped his fingers in Mo’s belt loops and reeled him in. “Turns out it’s a lot easier to care about things that aren’t hockey when I have things that aren’t hockey to care about.”

Mo snorted. “Smooth.”

“I try.”

Mo twined his arms around Adam’s neck. “You’re lucky you have more going for you than your terrible lines.”

There were fifty people in Adam’s yard, but none of them were paying any attention. And they could always avert their eyes. Adam was allowed to flirt. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Hmm. Well…” His hands slid from Adam’s neck until he was cupping his ass. “You have a good butt.”

Brat.Adam flexed his glutes and lifted his eyebrows for Mo to continue.