Page 56 of Rookie Attraction

Best is pushing it.

The next night

The Rush triumphs again. We took the game 4–2 against LA, and celebrate after with dinner at a beachside restaurant. Nothing can settle us down, and buoyed by another win, the atmosphere buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses.

“Congrats, guys, that was a hell of a game. Two goals from Ranken, one from Makela, and one from your captain,” Coach Range toasts.

“And Berg did it without puking,” I quip.

“Kirkland, some of us are still eating,” Coach snarks.

“Sorry, Coach.”

Berg offers me his middle finger. “Thanks for the sympathy, roomie.”

“Anytime.”

Range shakes his head and holds up his glass again.

“I also wanted to say that our defense is solid and getting better every game. A notable mention to Baran and Kirkland, keep up the good work.”

We cheer to that, until Coach’s phone starts ringing. He excuses himself from the table.

“Another well-played game for the rookie and his partner,” Makela teases as he nudges me. “The New York bromance continues.”

Sorensen grins. “You guys should start a podcast. Oh! I’ve got a name. Hockey Moves: Win with Finn. You now, like Win as in Selwin, and win as in⁠—”

Everyone groans. I shake my head.

“No,” Finn and I reply at the same time.

“Come on,” Sorensen replies. “It’s cute.”

“Cute? Do you even know what that word means?” Kuznetsov chuckles, and Sorensen launches a French fry at him.

Laughter erupts around the table, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the blush I can feel creeping up my cheeks. It’s happening way too much lately.

“I think it’s a cool idea, is that better?” Sorensen offers and turns to me. “You two might as well ride this bromance train. Fans eat that shit up.”

I’m about to reply to Sorensen when someone at the table grunts. The laughter in the room fades. I look around and realize that the only ones not taking part in this discussion are Brady and St Clare.

Brady shakes his head.

“I think it’s a shit idea,” Brady pipes up. “People might start making assumptions.”

St. Clare nods. “Yeah, and then the rest of us would have to deal with the fallout.”

“I say we head it off by giving Kirkland his own locker room,” Brady adds with a sneer.

His comment is a cold echo of my last days in Chicago. I place my glass on the table and lean forward.

“What did you say?”

Brady shrugs, offering me a smug smirk.

“I’m joking, man. Relax.”

“Do you see any of us laughing?” I ask.