Rivals (Harrisburg Railers Series Book 11) by RJ Scott & V.L. Locey

Author:RJ Scott & V.L. Locey [Scott, RJ & Locey, V.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785643293
Publisher: Love Lane Books Ltd
Published: 2022-01-25T18:30:00+00:00

Oli and I headed back to our room, but as if by unspoken agreement, he didn’t come in for long—just enough time to grab a lighter jacket and his tablet. I didn’t know if he was deliberately heading out so that I had the chance to talk to Ten, but I thanked him anyway. Privacy to speak freely would be hard to find out there in Team Canada land, particularly when a Canadian coach wanted to get all serious with an American skater. I fell on my phone and saw the one text I needed, here when you are.

I connected to Ten, and he answered so fast that he must have been waiting.

“Shit, J! Congratulations!” he said immediately, his voice filled with that beautiful smile. “Did you see that pass from Ryker? That kid is getting better every day. I’m so proud of him.”

“Tennant—”

“And that deke in the first period when he—”

“Ten, stop.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, babe.” I kept my tone gentle, and I heard his quiet sigh.

“It’s all good, the game was intense.”

“I know. How’s Colorado doing?”

“He’s angry as hell with himself and won’t listen when I tell him it wasn’t his fault. He’s locked himself in the bathroom with his iPad to call home.”

“It was a lucky bounce; he has to understand that, right? It could have gone either way.”

“Don’t do that,” Ten murmured. “Don’t spend time commiserating with us, when we played so well, and when you freaking won. I want to celebrate your success, okay?”

“And I want to be there for you right now.”

Ten chuckled. “This rivals thing is shit, isn’t it.”

“Just a bit.”

“I’m so proud of Ry,” he said again, and pride for him was our middle ground between winning and losing, and not being there to hug each other.

“Me too.”

“You know what, Jared?”

“What?”

“Being a stepdad is pretty freaking awesome.”

“Being a dad and married to a stepdad-sort-of-brother-type person, is also awesome,” I deadpanned.

We talked about everything and nothing, and there was one piece of common ground between us both knowing professional hockey—losing was felt just as keenly as winning, but there was always the next game. The medal race was far from over, and there was every chance that the US would come out on top, or Canada, or hell—any one of the many good teams that were here. This wasn’t just a USA/Canada race; after all, the Russian skaters had won all three of their games and were not only top of their group, but the best team right now. They were on fire, backstopped by the amazing brick wall that was Stan, and with so many big names in their team we’d be hard-pressed to slide easily past them.

“I’m going to make a move; Colorado is standing right next to me,” Ten said after an hour of us discussing next year’s vacation, Lottie, birds, Lottie, squirrels, Lottie, cheese, in fact anything but hockey, and agreeing that we missed our daughter too much to ever leave her again.

Ever.

“Does he have his junk out?” I joked—after all, for Colorado it appeared to be a default setting.

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