8. Rhys

CHAPTER 8

RHYS

Anaheim is warm and sunny. Temperatures in the seventies, it's like springtime. When we left Minneapolis, it was thirty degrees.

"We should sit outside. They have patio seating." I lead my merry band of hockey players into the bar. Quinn, Sage, Remy, Jonas, Morgan, and Maxim crowd in behind me.

We landed an hour ago. Time to find dinner, then we're seeing a movie. We have a game here tomorrow, then another in LA the following night.

Jonas slides his bright orange sunglasses to the top of his head. He bought them at a store in the hotel lobby after we checked in because they matched his sneakers. "I'm fine with sitting outside."

"How could you forget to pack underwear?" Sage's baffled question rings out behind me.

Remy shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It happens."

Dressed in one of the twelve outfits he packed for the three-day trip, Maxim drapes his arm around Sage's shoulders. "Not to us. Champion packers, here."

"Over-packers, bordering on obsessive," Jonas corrects.

Releasing Sage, Maxim stalks the few feet to Jonas and flicks his finger at the center of Jonas's chest. "I'll remember that the next time you forget a shirt or deodorant, and are begging me to help you."

"I never beg." He clasps Maxim's finger in his fist. The two stare at each other like one is waiting for the other to blink first. Then Jonas smiles and pushes him away.

Sage stands beside me, his hand on my arm, and his gaze on my two friends. He's been up with us for a little more than two weeks. With at least a point in each game, his goal streak continues, and he's quickly becoming a fan favorite. "Are they okay?"

"Yeah, they're always like that with each other." I slide my arm around him. Every time I do, something inside me settles.

Morgan, back with us now that an injury has claimed yet another of my teammates, nudges Remy with his elbow. "There are a few stores close to the hotel."

"I'll buy something when we get back, or in the morning. Forgetting underwear is nothing. Forgetting a passport is worse." Grinning, he turns to our captain. "Isn't it, Quinn?"

Quinn mock-growls at my peppy defensive partner. "Don't act like that forty-five minute delay was a major hardship. You slept the whole time."

"I know . But we could've spent that time in Canada. You delayed us getting to eat poutine." He touches his chest like he's wounded.

"I made up for it, didn't I?"

Remy pats him on the shoulder. "Yes, yes. You're a very good captain." He twists toward Morgan and Sage. "He took the whole team out to dinner that night."

"Oh, well, that was really nice of him." Sage leans his head on my shoulder and snakes his finger through my belt loop. "Sitting outside sounds good. Do you want to grab a table while I, and some of the others, get drinks for everyone?"

"That works." I walk with Jonas and Maxim, and we claim a long table at the back of the patio. The breeze feels nice, so does the sun on my skin, and listening to them banter always makes me smile.

Remy comes back first with Maxim and Jonas's drinks. "Morgan and Quinn saw a pool table, so they're having a quick game."

"Quick." Maxim snorts. "Yeah, right."

Remy sips his beer. "I'm gonna watch and keep them on schedule so we don't miss the movie."

He heads off.

Taking in the view, I stretch my shoulders. "We're not that far from the Wild Card spot. If we can get wins in the next few games?—"

Clank! Jonas's glass hits the table. Some of the liquid sloshes over the sides, wetting his fingers. He swipes them on a napkin. "We should go somewhere else."

"Why?" Baffled, I stare at him, readying to stand.

"We just should." He nudges his elbow into Maxim's side. At Maxim's sharp glare, Jonas angles his head to the side and raises an eyebrow.

Maxim turns his head in that direction, then whips back so fast I'm afraid he'll give himself whiplash. "Jonas is right."

Curious, I turn.

Across the patio, my past has come into my present.

Chad Cullen, my former teammate, swaggers toward a table along the perimeter.

"Huh." The burn of anger I expected to flare if I ever came face to face with him again isn't there. I feel… nothing.

Sage comes back, a whiskey sour in one hand and a Guinness in the other. He sets them down, then sits next to me, dragging his chair close. "What are you all looking at?"

"Not what. Who." Maxim touches my shoulder. "So, are we leaving?"

I shake my head and pick up my drink.

Sage's hand settles at the center of my back. "What's going on? Why would we be leaving? Did something happen?"

Using his glass, Jonas points to Chad. "Rhys used to be teammates with that guy."

Brows pinching together, Sage frowns at Chad. "Chad Cullen? He was on Coachella Valley last season. We played them twice. He's a dirty player."

Jonas sneers. "Oh, we know."

"I heard he's a shit teammate too—" His gaze flies to mine, then Chad, then back to me. Eyes wide, he stares and I can practically see the wheels turning. " He's the ex-teammate, isn't he? The one who…" he clamps his mouth shut and presses against my side, his hand rubbing circles on my back.

Maxim nods. "Yeah, that's him."

Sage strains closer, raising his face toward mine. "We can leave."

Wrapped in his warmth and concern, I slip my arm around him. "I'm really okay. Not angry, not going to hit him or anything like that. I honestly don't care about him one way or the other."

"I think that's healthy." He kisses my cheek, then hugs me harder. "I have you."

The fierceness in those three words and the support in his eyes bolsters me. Tenderness blooming in my chest, I bend down and capture his lips. "Thanks."

"We have you too." Jonas tips his glass to me and Maxim nods, toasting me with his beer. "I wonder what he's doing here."

Sage loosens his hold on me enough to pick up his drink. "I remember seeing his name come up at the PHL trade deadline, but there was so much going on, I don't know who he ended up with."

Maxim peers at his phone. "He's with San Jose's PHL affiliate. I pulled up the PHL schedule. His team is playing in San Diego tomorrow. That's only an hour and a half away. Maybe he's visiting someone."

"Let's just order dinner." I turn my smile to everyone to prove I'm okay because they're still giving me concerned looks. "Who's gonna pry Morgan and Quinn from the pool table?"

Jonas raises his glass. "I'm on it." He slips away.

Sage passes around menus. "They have fish tacos. Oh, and fancy mac and cheese. I can't make up my mind."

I look at the burgers.

Quinn barrels across the patio, aiming straight for me. He crouches by my chair, intense and worried, our team's resident bulldog. "Cullen's here?"

"Yes, and I'm fine. But I won't be if we miss the start of the movie. So please sit and let's order."

Jonas, Remy, and Morgan join us. Jonas sits beside Maxim and glares in Chad's general direction. Maxim and Quinn take turns doing the same thing. Remy and Morgan keep shooting curious looks at Chad and concerned looks at me. Sage is the only one ignoring Chad. His steady gaze is on me, as is his hand, warm on my thigh.

There's enough of a crowd that Chad doesn't see us. At least, I don't think so. We order food and eat, keeping the conversation on the movie, summer music festivals Sage wants to attend, Maxim buying a new car, and Remy's stories of Benny the bearded dragon.

Quinn insists on picking up the check. We get up from the table, and every one of us looks in the direction of where Chad was spotted. He's not there, though two half-eaten meals are. Maybe he already left.

We walk across the patio. Chad comes out of the restaurant, wiping damp hands on his shorts. A surge of adrenaline shoots through me. We're on a collision course, and there's no way of avoiding it. He and I make eye contact, and he goes still. "Rhys."

"Chad." I stop walking, my heart beating faster as my guard comes up. About six feet separate us.

A trace of irritation in his expression, he runs his tongue over his teeth. "Been a while."

"It has."

Sage edges his body forward, positioning himself between Chad and me. His muscles tense, like he's prepping for a fight. I put my hand on his shoulder and draw him against my chest. I love that he wants to protect me, but I don't want him anywhere near Chad.

Chad's gaze flicks down to Sage. The edges of his mouth pull into a smirk. "Who's your guard dog?"

Quinn storms forward, inserting himself in front of me, and in front of Sage. " This guard dog," he thumbs his chest, "is gonna have a problem if you don't get away from my teammates."

Maxim and Jonas flank him. Remy steps up beside me and Morgan stands with Sage. There's now a wall of professional hockey players in-between me and my former adversary.

They clearly have my back. I expected it of my original trio of friends. Sage, too, though experiencing his protectiveness, leaves me warm and fuzzy. Remy and Morgan are more of a surprise, but teammates protect teammates.

Chad backs up a step, his hands raised. "Whatever."

He returns to his table.

The tension in Sage's body eases. He sinks into my side, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But ready to get out of here. We're drawing a lot of attention." The weight of our fellow patrons' stares follows us as we leave the patio and cross through the restaurant.

I don't mind people taking photos if they spot us out somewhere, but I don't want anything that might link me with Chad again. Rumors flew when I got traded, and soon after, speculation that Chad did what he did. Teammates and staff talk, to each other, families, friends, colleagues. Stories get repeated and spread, especially online.

We step outside. The movie theater is only a few blocks away. Our group is a jumble of bodies crowding the sidewalk as we walk together like a pack.

Quinn looks at me over his shoulder. "You sure you're good?"

With my arm around Sage's shoulder and in the company of my friends? I'm golden. "Going through what I did wasn't easy. But I'm happy it happened. Getting traded brought me to the Metros. And gave me three friends who've had my back from day one. Thanks for standing with me in there."

Jonas thumps me on the shoulder. "You know it."

"I have a much happier, fuller life where I landed." These people gave me so much more than I had before.

His pink shirt as bright as Jonas's orange sunglasses, Maxim links his arm with Quinn's. "Yes, we do add color."

"And fun." Though we have a green light, Jonas jogs to the middle to hold up traffic that isn't moving, and waves us on. "I, myself, am highly entertaining."

Safely back on the sidewalk, Quinn extricates himself from Maxim's arm and turns, walking backward, to address Sage and his friends. "Do you see what I had to put up with alone before Rhys arrived?"

Laughing, Remy claps Quinn on the back. "Yeah, looks like it was a real hardship."

We arrive at the theater. The guys get in line to buy snacks, but Sage holds back, tugging our linked hands to keep me with him. He cups my cheek. "I have you. Anytime. Anywhere."

"Thanks for standing with me in there. Meeting you is another reason I'm happy I ended up in Minneapolis." I bend to kiss him. When our lips meet, the warmth blooming in me feels as bright as the sun.

He's special, full of quirks, shyness, and sweetness. Taking care of him, making sure he's happy, is quickly becoming my most important thing.

The little things he does, like asking how I'm doing and genuinely wanting to know the answer, bringing me a coffee before games or saving me a seat somewhere, forwarding me memes and articles that made him think of me, and sending me texts with sweet thoughts and kind words, make me feel happy and like I'm special to him too.

I'm falling a little harder for him each day.