"And we are back to square one," Tate says, setting down a glass of whiskey mixed with Mio, the bitterness in his tone hard to ignore. I glance up from where I sit, elbows resting on my thighs, my hands clasped in front of me. A sigh escapes my lips as I stare at the floor, my mind spinning in circles.
"Don't judge me, please," I say, almost whining. It feels like every word weighs a thousand pounds, carrying with it all the frustration and regret I've been bottling up.
Tate scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, I'm judging. Hard." His words sting, but I know Tate too well to take it personally. That's who he is, brutally honest, even when the truth hurts like hell.
Letting out a pained groan, I run my hand over my face, as if the gesture could somehow shield me from the humiliation of the mess I've created. It's hard for me to admit my mistakes, especially when it comes to girls. I've always prided myself on being the guy who could handle anything, the one with all the answers. But when it comes to this situation? I'm lost.
And Tate, as much as he can annoy me, is the one person who won't sugarcoat the truth. "She's got your balls in her hand, man," he adds, and I glance up, meeting his sharp, clear blue eyes.
I shake my head. "No, she doesn't!" The protest comes out more forcefully than I expected, but there's no denying the doubt creeping into my voice. Am I just saying it to convince myself? I feel like I'm losing my grip on the whole situation, and the more I try to pull away, the tighter it gets. Tate's expression says it all, he doesn't believe me either.
"Right," he says dryly, giving me a look that screams okay, sure. He knows as well as I do that I'm in deeper than I'm willing to admit.
I take a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts, but it feels like everything is spinning out of control. "I just need this to be over," I mutter. "She's been doing too much this time around. You know how many people have been commenting on my posts because she's telling everyone we're... a thing?!" My voice rises as the frustration builds. I'm not trying to be an asshole, but having a girl claim we're together when we're not? It's suffocating. I don't share my personal life on social media—hell, I barely share it with my closest friends. The last thing I need is for my private life to become public fodder.
Even if Allie was my girlfriend, she wouldn't be flaunted all over Instagram or Facebook. It's not about hiding her, it's about protecting her from the shitstorm that comes with being in the public eye. People are vultures, waiting to pick apart every detail of my life. The thought of them turning their focus onto someone I care about? That's a nightmare I'd rather avoid.
Tate shakes his head, his hand patting my back. "Kait and I warned you. So did the damn kid, man, and he's only 18!" Tate's words hit a nerve, but I stay quiet. He's right, everyone saw this coming except me. "I get it, Allie used to be fun for you, but things have changed. You can see she's trying to hold on to you, keep you close. You already ended things once. You can do it again."
"Now," he says, picking up his glass again, "down this shit with me before I rip my hair out one by one."
I let out a small chuckle despite myself. Tate's one of those guys who's always got a way of making things seem less bleak. Even when he's pissed off, he knows how to lighten the mood. I pick up my own glass, lifting it in a mock toast. "I'm sorry," I mutter. "I didn't mean to dump my drama on you."
Tate shrugs, clinking his glass against mine. "It's not you, man. It's hockey. And Kait's parents."
His last sentence catches my attention. I put my glass down, my eyebrows furrowing. "Kait's parents? What's going on there?" I ask, genuinely curious. Tate's been with Kaitlyn for a while now, and while they've had their ups and downs, things have been good lately.
He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes flicking toward the window as if he's debating whether to open up. "We drove up there for New Year's," he begins, and there's something tight in his voice. "I asked..." He hesitates, glancing at me nervously, and my heart rate picks up.
"What?" I lean forward, sensing something big. "You can tell me, buddy."
Tate sighs deeply, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm thinking about proposing to Kait after the season ends."
I stare at him, my mouth slightly open. "Really?" The word slips out louder than I intended. Of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn't one of them. Tate, the guy who's always kept things light and easy is thinking about marriage?
He nods, his eyes softening as he talks about her. "Yeah. I want to marry her so fucking bad, Miles. She's my girl. I know that now, and I want to make it official." There's a conviction in his voice that leaves no room for doubt.
I lean back in my chair, trying to process his words. I've been rooting for him and Kait since they got together, but I never thought he'd take this step so soon. They've known each other since they were kids, sure, but marriage? That's a big deal. Still, who am I to judge? When you know, you know, right?
"You talked to her parents about it?" I ask, already guessing the answer. "I'm assuming it didn't go well?"
Tate winces, nodding reluctantly. "They think it's too soon since we just started dating last July. But I've known her my whole life, man! There shouldn't be a timeline on stuff like this. Life's too damn short."
I raise my hands, offering a peace gesture. "Hey, I'm on your side, buddy. Just give them time, alright? You've got six months left in the season. That's plenty of time to convince them." I try to lighten the mood, but Tate's frown doesn't waver.
"Six months, huh?" Tate mutters. "June. Stanley Cup Finals." He grins, his mood lifting slightly.
"Speak it into existence," I say, sharing his smirk. We've got the team to make it there. Why not believe it?
We finish our drinks in comfortable silence before I head home. When I step inside, JT my little brother for all intents and purposes is sitting at the kitchen counter, his face buried in his phone as he watches a hockey game and munches on a bowl of cereal.
"Hey, kid," I call out, grabbing a water from the fridge.
He doesn't respond, just keeps shoveling cereal into his mouth. This standoffish behavior? It's been going on for weeks, and it's starting to grate on my nerves.
Slamming my water bottle on the counter, I pull out a chair and sit across from him. "Alright, what the fuck is up with you?" I ask, staring him down.
JT's eyes flick up at me for a brief moment before he shoves another spoonful of cereal in his mouth. "Nothing," he mutters.
Rolling my eyes, I lean forward. "Look, if you don't start talking, I'm gonna call your mom and ask for a refund."
He snorts. "I'll stay with Anderson then."
"Yeah, right. Drew's already got kids. He doesn't need another. Now spill it." I'm trying to stay patient, but the kid's attitude has been on another level lately.
With a sigh, JT finally sets his spoon down and turns off his phone. "Why are you questioning me? Every guy on the team is stressed the fuck out right now."
I scoff. "Kid, this isn't hockey stress. This is girl stress. So spill before I spill your cereal."
He glares at me but eventually gives in. "It's a girl, Demps. A damned woman."
I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. I'm knee-deep in my own girl problems, and now JT has his own to deal with. "What woman?"
He mutters her name under his breath. "Ember Connelly."
I raise an eyebrow. Nola's friend?
I hadn't even realized they still kept in contact, but the pieces start to fall into place. "What happened between you guys that night?" I ask, intrigued now.
JT groans, running a hand through his hair. "I saw her dancing with Garrett, and I may or may not have gone up to them and tried pulling them apart."
I can't help but chuckle. "Why?"
He doesn't answer, but the look on his face says it all. "You've got a crush on her, don't you?"
JT's face flushes with embarrassment, and he glares at me. "Shut up, Miles."
"Hey, I'm just messing with you." I pat his shoulder. "But seriously, you should tell her how you feel. Clear the air before things get more complicated."