Page 62 of Ice Devil

I threw a look at an old buddy of mine, a guy I’d gone to high school with. His grin was similar to everyone else’s in town. We were back in North Bend for a few days, the playoffs set to begin with the first game in Portland.

We’d worked our butts off to get where we were and I’d never been prouder of anything in my life.

“Very funny. Now, heel or face the sword,” I threw back only to have half the guys grunt and wave us off.

We were nothing special after all, although I was grateful when two guys vacated perches at the bar.

I nodded in recognition and eased onto a stool, immediately pulling out my phone.

“You guys were fucking fantastic in Georgia. Holy shit.” Jake owned the place, his family from North Bend, one of the original shifter families in the area. This was where everyone came to celebrate the wins in life. As usual, he had a grin on his face, but even more so since acknowledging his mate, a sweet human named Roxanne.

“We did okay, eh, brother?” Ford asked as he sat down, grinning as he glanced in my direction.

“Not too shabby. On that note, I’d love a Guinness with a side of Sambuca.”

“What the fuck is that shit?” Ford was rightfully shocked. “I’ll take a Budweiser with a bourbon chaser, Jake. A real guy’s drinks.”

Jake laughed. “Comin’ right up, boys.”

“Seriously. Since when did you start drinking cinnamon shit?”

With my eyebrows furrowed, I chuckled while pulling a bowl of peanuts closer. “You mean licorice?” I cracked a couple of peanuts from their shells, popping them into my mouth before grabbing my phone. Using my thumb, I navigated to my texts just in case.

“Whatever.”

He didn’t say anything else for a full thirty seconds, but I felt his face crowding my space. “What?”

“Weird drinks and you always have your phone with you.”

“It is a digital age, brother, and you check your voicemails hourly to see if Georgia called. Don’t try and tell me otherwise.”

He grinned and pulled back just as our bottles of beer were placed in front of us. He immediately grabbed the cold brew. I was still scrolling. “She really did a number on you. Huh?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Right. That reporter chick who you seem to think walks on water or maybe you’re just inclined to walk across hot coals for her.”

Since I’d made the mistake of taking a gulp of my beer, I immediately choked, trying to keep from spitting on him.

His laugh was way too boisterous. “I know I’m right. You left the game with her the other night, for fuck’s sake.”

“Which city?” I couldn’t help but push his buttons as he’d done with me over the years. Yes, Sloane and I had tried to be very nonchalant about what we’d been sharing, but with the fans becoming ravenous, at the last game she’d attended it had been maddening trying to get away without being seen.

“Well, I know she wasn’t there last night.”

“No,” I said, sighing just as Jake slid the glasses across the bar for us to catch, saluting when we both did. “She had a preplanned event she couldn’t get out of.”

At least that’s what she’d told me. Since I hadn’t heard from her since then, I was beginning to wonder if something had happened.

Although my gut told me I’d instinctively know.

“Ah, a lover’s quarrel.”

“Fuck off,” I teased.

Ford narrowed his eyes, still laughing. “Did you notice on social media there was some crazy rumor a couple weeks ago you’d gotten married?”

We’d addressed that in the article as well as our father’s condition. Just to try to shut down the bullshit floating around.