11. Josie

11

JOSIE

" I 'm glad you showed up at the rink. I wanted to apologize," Wyatt said a few minutes after we sat down.

"Apologize for what?"

"For leaving you that morning at the elevator. I should have helped you answer the questions I'm sure the manager had." I could see the guilt in his expression before he ducked his head. Before I knew what I was doing, I reached across the table and touched the back of his hand.

"Wyatt it's fine, really."

He eyed my hand on his before looking back up at me and I felt my heart flutter.

"I knew the moment we stepped out they would recognize you and make things even more hectic. You didn't need that. So don't apologize."

"Still, I'm not the type to run from things. I've felt bad making you deal with it all."

"Well, I appreciate it." And I did. It's not every day a guy will apologize, so Wyatt doing so meant a lot. "Not to burst your bubble but they seemed a bit more concerned about me. You weren't even mentioned."

"Well, yeah, Batman doesn't like to get all the credit. Gotta let others have the spotlight sometimes."

I kept my face neutral as I nodded. "That's really nice of Batman. So selfless."

"He does what he can," Wyatt shrugged. We stared at one another for a second before we erupted in laughter.

At that moment Rick's voice boomed beside us. I pulled my hand back from Wyatt's and glanced up. The sight of the food in Rick's hands made my stomach growl.

"Here you two kids go." Rick placed the two burgers in front of us. "Enjoy."

I barely heard him as I gazed at the burger he placed before me. There was no hesitation as I grabbed it in both hands and took a huge bite. As Wyatt chuckled, I slowly glanced at him over my burger. His eyebrows were raised, and amusement danced in his eyes as he grinned at me. I felt my cheeks turn pink as I sat there with a mouthful of food. He just laughed again before following suit.

"Don't judge me," I mumbled as soon as I swallowed.

"I wasn't."

"Uh huh." I didn't know if I believed him, not with the way his eyes glinted at me.

We spent the next few minutes eating in silence. A few people came and went but none paid us any attention.

"Does this make up for the bad nutrition bar?" Wyatt asked a few minutes later.

"Oh definitely." The food tasted amazing, just like Wyatt said it would be. "Better make sure to restock the nutrition bars. Just in case Batman needs to be rescued again."

"Very true. Maybe I'll invest in some different kinds," Wyatt mused as he bit into a French fry.

"Oh, yes, get the fancy kind."

"Bryton actually makes his own granola bars."

"He does?" Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. It was hard to picture one of the league's best Left Wingers in his kitchen making granola bars—especially a muscular, 6'1 giant like Bryton.

"He's always been a bit of a health freak. He likes to bring healthy snacks for the team."

"So, he wouldn't approve of a big juicy hamburger," I asked.

"What he or my trainer doesn't know won't kill them."

"Your secret is safe with me." I pretended to zip my mouth shut. "Thank you for breaking your strict diet for me."

"I get to have the best burger in all of Toronto with a pretty girl, it's a win-win," he said smoothly. I felt my cheeks heat up at the compliment.

"Such a charmer." I popped a fry in my mouth as I playfully shook my head.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Wyatt grinned.

"Uh huh."

He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he looked at me made me feel stupid things. Things I had no business feeling. Glancing back down at my plate I grabbed a fry and quickly changed the subject.

"So, Trevor and Bryton seem nice." It was a stupid subject change but thankfully Wyatt didn't call me out on it.

"Those two are giant pains in my ass," he said, munching on a fry. I could hear the underlying love and respect he had for his friends in his voice.

"How did you guys meet?" I only knew a bit about the three friends from what I'd heard on TV over the years.

"Trevor and I go back to freshman year of Uni. We were both new to the team, actually two of the three new players, so we kind of gravitated towards each other. His skating style matched mine so well that we instantly became friends on and off the ice."

As he spoke, I placed my chin in the palm of my hand, listening intently.

"I only played one season before being drafted, but Trevor stayed back one more year before he entered the league. It was just sheer good luck we both ended up on the Knights. He likes to joke that it was fate that made sure we were put on the same teams both in Uni and professionally."

"Hey, you never know. There's always a reason for things. At least that's what my dad used to say." I paused, picking up another chip. "And Bryton?"

"He was drafted to the Knights mid-season during my second year. I think he felt like he had something to prove when he first got there. We were doing a simple scrimmage when he slammed me hard against the glass." Wyatt laughed at the memory, the sound making my own lips quirk.

"During scrimmages, no one really hits each other, but Bryton did. At first, I was pissed off but when I approached him, the guy had the nerve to just smile and skate away." Wyatt shook his head as he continued the story. "After practice, he waited outside the locker room for me. Apologized for the hit but said he wanted to prove that he was good enough to be on the team. The way he said I just…I guess I gained a lot of respect for him. It's not easy moving to a new team mid-season. There's a lot of pressure to prove you are good enough to be there in the first place, let alone stay."

I couldn't begin to imagine what that would feel like. All that pressure to perform and if you didn't do well enough you could easily be drafted to another team. Or worse.

"I remembered how bad I wanted to prove my own worth my first year, so I knew how he felt. Afterwards, the three of us started hanging out. Been friends ever since," Wyatt shrugged.

My curiosity peaked at the mention of his first year being drafted, but I knew I shouldn't pry. We were only little more than strangers, but I couldn't help myself.

"Were the Knights your first choice when you got drafted?" I asked.

"Honestly, I just wanted one team to want me, regardless of who they were. It was a tough decision entering the draft at nineteen. My mom wasn't thrilled of the idea."

"I bet," I laughed. I didn't think any parent would be all that thrilled by their child leaving school to pursue a career that had no guarantees.

"While she wasn't exactly happy about it, she was the first person to stand up and cheer when my name was called for the second pick. Pretty sure everyone around us had ear damage afterwards."

"Your mom sounds amazing."

"She really is." The look on his face at the mention of his mom made my heart stutter.

"The whole night was kind of like a fever dream." He shook his head as if thinking back on it. I said nothing as I ate my fries, giving him a moment to enjoy the memory.

"What about you?" he asked. "You told me you used to run track?"

I was surprised he remembered since I only mentioned it in passing. But I had a feeling Wyatt paid more attention than I realized.

"I did. I ran track all through high school and got a scholarship to Toronto for it." Wyatt gave a low whistle of appreciation, and I felt pleased that he seemed impressed. He was the famous sports star out of the two of us. It wasn't easy getting a sports scholarship, you needed to be extremely talented for one. I managed to scrape by with my running.

"Ran freshman year and won a few meets," I dropped my gaze to the last few fries on my plate, moving them around. "It was the start of my sophomore year during practice that I tore my ACL. I remember falling to the ground and just screaming."

To this day I could still feel the pain of that moment. It was the most excruciating thing I'd ever felt, like someone had taken a baseball bat wrapped in razor wire to my knee.

"Were you able to come back from it?" His question was loaded for many reasons.

"I had surgery to repair the damage, but it took months to heal. Mentally, it took longer to process the fact that my knee would heal. The season passed as I slowly got better. But by time I tried to get back on the team there were better runners. My coach didn't trust I could come back stronger than before and advised that I hung up my shoes, so I did. With running no longer my priority I threw myself into school and graduated with my degrees."

"Wow. First off, your old coach was a dick." I looked up and saw Wyatt staring intently at me. "You tore your ACL; you didn't lose your leg."

I found it cute that he was annoyed on my behalf on something that happened years ago.

"It definitely sucked. I still don't really run anymore. Not because of the pain. What I once loved just doesn't feel the same after all of that."

"I'm sorry. That's a shitty experience," he said, his voice full of sincerity.

"Thanks. It worked out in the end though. I like where I'm at now." I truly did. As Wyatt fell silent, I could tell by the look on his face he was thinking of his own injury.

He may be healed physically, but is he mentally?

"Hey," I nudged him under the table with my foot, getting his attention. "Your knee is going to be fine. Stay up on physical therapy and I'll make you a jar of my famous pepper paste."

"You really think pepper paste helps?" Wyatt looked at me with a skeptical look.

"Don't worry, I'll make a believer out of you," I smiled.

"We'll see about that." He nudged me back with his foot.

"Oh, we will. You'll learn soon I'm always right."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. It's one of my many amazing traits," I said with a chuckle.

"Well, it's a good thing I like being proven wrong."