Shutout | Complete

Chapter 12

A grunt escaped my throat as I lifted my legs to scale the short flight of stairs leading to the front door of the Hockey House. My bag bounced with the movement, colliding with my back every other step. I winced under the weight of my goalie equipment. Every inch hurt after practice. Coach had me double down on dry land training only to bring me on the ice and bag skate me for the rest of practice–and then some. I was two laps away from decorating the ice with the burrito I had for dinner the night before when he finally decided to show me mercy.

It was the natural consequence of losing the game we played the other night. And if I wasn't convinced Ella was my good luck charm before, I was now.

Since the night she had slept over, I hadn't seen her. I would send her the usual good morning text–just to let her know I was around if she needed me. I hadn't asked her to come to the away game we had this week, and I definitely wasn't about to ask her to come to practice and watch me get skated into the ground. She needed some time to deal with what had happened, surrounded by her friends and people who cared most about her.

But I would have been lying if I said I didn't miss her.

After tossing my equipment into the garage, I made my way over to the kitchen. I could hear commotion coming from deeper within the townhouse. The rest of the guys were already home along with a couple of other members of the team. My eyes zeroed in on Liam, who sat in-between Booker and McKinley on the pleather couch. He laughed along with the war that was about to unleash over the video game. His arm was thrown over the back of the couch, like he had no care in the world. My chest tightened at the sight of them. Knowing what he did to Ella, I didn't think I'd ever be able to look at him the same way again. Sure, we were teammates, and we'd do what we'd have to do on the ice. But that didn't mean I had to like the guy.

McKinley greeted me from his spot on the couch with a flick of his chin. I returned the gesture, making my way into the kitchen to start on breakfast. Easton was already there. A tea towel that had seen better days was thrown over his shoulder as he whisked a bowl of eggs. The sound was like white noise that drowned out the arguing behind me.

"What's on the menu?" I asked, when I reached the island.

"Whatever's easy," Easton replied. "I didn't know how long you would be so I figured I'd make some scrambled eggs and toast."

I nodded, thankful that someone in this house had taken the initiative and decided to give me a break. Even if the kitchen looked like a classroom of preschools had had their way with it, I bit my tongue, eyeing the goopy fork that was laying on the counter. Glops of egg yolk dripped down, leaving a small yellow puddle on the granite. "Sounds good to me. Did you need help with anything?"

"I got it." Easton placed the bowl down and turned to prepare a pan on the stove.

I lowered myself to my seat and winced again. This time, because of the smoke that was emitting from the toaster next to me. Reaching over, I pressed a button on the appliance. Four extra crispy slices of toast popped out.

"McKinley offered to help," Easton said once he turned back around to retrieve the bowl of eggs. "I told him not to worry about it."

"He thought I was going to burn the house down," McKinley added, coming up next to me on the island. He took the slices of charred toast out and placed them on an empty plate next to him.

I bite back a smile. "Yeah. Wouldn't want that."

It didn't take Easton much longer to finish up making breakfast. Despite having a kitchen table, we rarely used it for anything other than drinking games. For most meals, we opted to sit at the island. But on days like this, when there was more than just the four of us, we congregated in the living room.