Page 59 of Tough Score

He nods. "Okay, it's your call," he says, and then looks down at Keely. "The team has a table. You ready?"

"Oh… sure," she says, and then glances over at me. "I'll see you later?"

He places a hand gently at the back of her arm and then escorts her to a table in the back corner.

I head back to Seven. He hands me the pool cue that I usually use and I grip it a little tighter than I should. I bend down to take my shot, trying to focus on the game, but my eyes keep drifting back to Keely, laughing and celebrating with her new team.

I'm happy that she has a team to play with, but the doctor's arm draped over the back of her chair—that I don't like.

Seven noticed my distraction. "You okay, man?" he asked quietly.

I nod, forcing myself to look away from Keely. "Yeah, I'm fine," I say, then line up my shot. "Let's play."

Chapter Nineteen

Keely

The familiar hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills Oakley's as I process payments for bar tabs.

With Reeve getting cleared to travel with the team this week, I find my eyes darting to the TV screen more often than I mean to at the Hawkeyes game.

He looked as excited as a kid packing for summer camp when I brought over dinner a few nights ago. I sat on his bed while we ate Chinese food, and he told me about the lineup of teams they would play and the level of difficulty he felt that the team would have with each game.

It was like having my very own sports channel broadcaster giving the rundown, and I hung on every word. Maybe someday—hopefully a long time from now,Reeve could be a sports reporter when he retires from playing. Though I think he would be a great coach too. I think Reeve can pretty much do anything he wants to.

There's been a void around the apartment for the last couple of days since he's been gone, so when the cameraman flashes over to Reeve sitting in the seats with Hawkeyes fans who came to the away game, my eyes lock on, and I forget what I'm doing. It's been five weeks today since the accident, and next week, we will find out if the Hawkeyes doctor will clear him to play.

"Earth to Keely!" Penelope's voice cuts through my thoughts. "The card reader has been beeping at you for a solid minute."

I blink away my stare and then stare down at the black card reader with its red light flashing at me, "Remove the card for the reader"… oops. "Sorry. I guess I zoned out."

Autumn leans in, her voice lowered to avoid anyone but the girls around her to hear. "Thinking about a certain injured goalie?"

"I'm just worried about his recovery," I deflect and then run the next card stacked by me.

Tessa snorts. "Sure, that's all it is."

Before I can respond, a newcomer saddles up to the bar next to them with a huff as she flops down on a bar stool.

"You're here!" Penelope says, sitting too close and pulling the woman with short brown hair in against her for a side hug.

"Thank God that Seven is out of town this week. I love the man but he thinks every chapter I write needs 'inspiration'. I swear he thinks that my apartment is a nudist colony. I can't get him to put on any clothes," she huffs. "I love him, and the sex is incredible, but if he doesn't let me finish this book, I'm calling HR for sexual harassment."

"You can't call HR. He's doing pro-boner work," Tessa teases, and all the girls bust up laughing.

"Just do what I do and tell him that "good boys get treats." Autumn says. "I don't withhold sex because that hurts us both, but if Briggs wants a surprise, he has to check something off the honey-do list."

"What's the surprise?" Brynn asks.

"I purchase something online. It can be really simple—nothing crazy. Like, last month, he opened a package that came in from the mail while I was in Walla Walla visiting our parents and he opened it. It's a new fancy spatula for large cookies, but… that's not what he thought it was for," Autumn says, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Tessa asks.

"I came home to the entire house clean from top to bottom, and the new shower head I ordered was put in our master bathroom."

The girls all laugh again.

The door to Oakley's opens, and I give a casual, quick glance, a force of habit. We have to keep track of our body count inside the building to keep off the fire department's shit list. They're always nice enough, but it's better if we can avoid someone calling us in for the violation.