Page 33 of Over the Line

Garrett winced, pressing his thighs together. “Oh. Ow!”

“Yeah. Ow! Because cup or not, that shit hurts!”

“But you got the goal!” I protested.

Craws rolled his eyes and mocked in a high-pitched voice, “But you got the goal!”

Temo, Barns, and Garrett were all shaking with laughter. So was I. Craws just glared at me, but even he couldn’t help chuckling.

“You’re a dick, Saints. That’s all I’m saying.” He picked up his glass. “Damn it. I’m dry.” He peered at the glass, then at his daughter, clearly trying to come up with a solution.

“Do you want me to get you a beer or hold the baby?” I asked.

He thought about it. “Baby.” With a subtle wince, he added, “My arm’s already falling asleep.”

“Drama queen,” I muttered, but I got up and took the sleeping child. She fussed a little, so I stayed up and bounced her gently. Craws hesitated to go, but since she quieted, he headed for the door. “You want anything?”

I glanced at my own beer, which was still half full. “Nah, I’m good.”

He left, and I continued bouncing her while she slept and Temo regaled Garrett with yet another tale of hockey shenanigans. About the time he’d wrapped up a story about some pranks on the bus last season, I caught Garrett watching me, his expression unreadable but sweet, as if he liked the view.

Apparently noticing I’d noticed him, he jumped, blushing as he shifted in his chair. “That, um…” He cleared his throat. “Brings back a lot of memories.”

“I bet. You have… four, right?”

He nodded. “Yep. Not that any of them have been”—he gestured at the baby—“that size for a long time.”

“Oh, so that means you’ve slept?” Craws said as he came back in the room, fresh beer in hand. “When exactly does that start happening again?”

Garrett laughed, bringing his own drink to his lips, but he didn’t answer.

The curiosity in Craws’ expression morphed to horror. “It… It does come back, right? Eventually?”

Garrett rolled some beer around in his mouth, unaware of me fixating on his lips. Then he swallowed it. “See all this?” He gestured at the silver in his hair. “Each gray hair represents a day without sleep.”

Craws’ lips parted.

I snorted. “Sweet dreams, Craws?”

Craws flipped me off, and I shielded his baby’s face with my hand.

“Not in front of the baby,” I said, sounding exaggeratedly scandalized. “Have some manners!”

“Pfft. That child is going to grow up around hockey players. She might as well learn what the finger means now.”

“How the hell does anyone grow up around hockey players?” Temo asked. “Because we sure didn’t grow up.”

“Glad you’ve accepted that, Temo,” I said. “Acceptance is the first step.”

He glared at me. “You want to end up on injured reserve again, pendejo? Because that’s how you end up on injured reserve again.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked. “Because I will totally tell Coach.”

“Tell me what?” the man in question asked as he stepped into the room, sounding for all the world like he was done with our shit.

I pointed my chin at Temo and whined, “Coach! Temo’s threatening to put me back on injured reserve!”

“Only because he deserved it!” Temo protested.