As if that fucking mattered.
Duncan wasn’t married. He wasn’t even sure if he could call Amber his girlfriend. But the thought of this happening to her made him want to vomit. It made him want to take motherfucking hard slap shots over and over. Impotent rage at something so evil and destructive rose up inside him.
“We’ll be putting out a press release later today.” Coach rubbed his face. “But in the meantime, we have a job to do. I know you all are going to be keeping Max and Ariana in your thoughts and prayers. But we have to go on. Right?”
They all muttered agreement, but Duncan could tell everyone was in shock about this. Right now they had to practice. Maybe that was good. Take their minds off it. Although that might be impossible.
“Shit,” he muttered to Duper as they rose to head onto the ice. “Can’t fucking believe it.”
Duper looked just as shaken. “I know. Christ. If that was Lovey…”
He’d been thinking the same thing Duncan had. Putting themselves in Hallsy’s shoes. There was no way they could know how Hallsy was feeling, but they could sure imagine how it might feel. And it felt like fucking burning hell.
Duncan took out his frustration on the puck, as did some of the other guys. It seemed wrong to think of how this impacted him, and the team, when Hallsy’s life was falling apart, but he couldn’t help but be pissed off at another stroke of bad luck. This wasn’t going to help them win games and make the playoffs.
Coach juggled the lines and had him practicing with Nicky on left wing. That was okay. They’d work on it. They played tomorrow night, so it wasn’t much time for them to get used to each other, but whatever.
They had a job to do.
After practice, the mood was somber as the guys stretched or rode the bike, showered and dressed, then hung out to eat. The talk was of Hallsy and his wife, of course, guys shaking their heads at how fucking unfair it was, remembering things now that there were clues about what was going on with them. Duncan felt antsy and edgy, like his skin was too tight. He needed to move, but didn’t know what to do. After leaving the arena, he found himself sitting in his truck, thinking about Amber.
She should be done with classes for the day. He pulled out his phone and called her number.
“Hi,” she answered.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He paused, his throat closing up for a couple of seconds. “Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Can I come over?”
“Sure.” She sounded a little surprised. “But I do have to work at six.”
“Okay. See you soon.” He ended the call and dropped his phone onto the passenger seat.
He walked into her apartment a short time later, greeted by the scent of cookies and the sound of Maroon 5 playing on her iPod through a speaker. Her eyes went wide as he walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed the breath out of her in a long hug. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her hair.
“What’s going on?” she wheezed long moments later. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” He shook his head and slowly released her. She took his jacket as he shrugged it off, and laid it over the back of an armchair. “Everything is not okay.”
Her forehead creased and she bit her lip. “What? What’s wrong?” She held on to his arm and led him into the living room. He vaguely noticed the mess in the kitchen, with trays and mixing bowls on the counter.
He sat heavily on the couch and pulled her onto his lap, again pulling her into a hug. For a moment he couldn’t say anything. Then he told her what had happened.
“Oh no.” She laid a soft hand on his cheek. “Oh, that’s terrible.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know her, of course, but I met Max. I did feel like he was…sad, or worried about something. That’s just so awful. She must be young.”
“Yeah. I don’t know exactly, but probably my age.”
“Do they have kids?”
“No.” He shook his head. “They just got married. Fuck. Fucking fuck.”
“I know.” She slid her arms around him and held him. “I know.”
They sat like that for a long time, silent. Then Duncan said, “Thanks.”
She stroked his hair. “For what?”
“Just being here. I kept thinking…”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He coughed. “So, what were you doing?”
—
Amber studied Duncan, her chest aching at his obvious unhappiness. She made a face. “Baking cookies.”
“I didn’t know you liked to bake.”
She shrugged and climbed off him. “I don’t usually have much time. Since I just finished midterms, I didn’t feel like doing homework.” He followed her to the counter separating the living room from the kitchen as she opened the oven door and peered inside.
“Are they ready?”
“Not quite.”
He patted his stomach. “I could eat some cookies. Got milk?”
She grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do.” She picked up a bowl and set it in the sink. “I had lunch with your sister today.”