Page 39 of Pucked Together

Ryker

"So you're just not going to talk to me?"

Keelan looks over at me from the pool chair he's in. He removes the sunglasses from his eyes to glare at me, returns them to his face, and takes another sip of beer. "Nice. Really mature man."

He turns to face Fergie to the right of him. "I'm sorry. Did you say something, Ferg?"

Fergie looks at me, confused, and then back at Keelan. "What?"

Keelan shrugs, "Hmm, weird, must've been a bug." He takes another swig.

"Ok, Kee. When you're ready to be a big boy and actually talk about your feelings. You know where to find me."

Wednesday sits at his feet and looks at Keelan as if waiting for a response. He gives us nothing.

A hurt Keelan Landry is a worse storm than the one that kicked us all out of our homes a few weeks ago.

I shake my head and go back inside, running into Hicks on his way out.

"Take it you’re still in the doghouse?"

"Shut up," I say, brushing past him.

"Hey, you're the one banging his sis—"

I turn to him and push him up against the wall, "You really don't want to finish that sentence, Hicks. Unless you don't value any of your remaining teeth."

He shakes me off and puts his hands up in surrender.

"Good call,” I say.

I watch him meet up with the other two housemates. Keelan reaches into his cooler and hands him a beer. Wow. Keelan's totally oblivious to the fact that he has more to worry about with Hicks than he ever does with me. But it's not my place to convince him of that.

The front door opens, and Izzy comes bounding in with paper bags full of leaves and other colorful items.

"What's all this?"

"I'm cooking Sunday dinner."

"You're cooking?" I question her as I take two of the bags from her and follow her into the kitchen.

"Yes, Goalie-zilla. I can cook, you know."

"My bad, I haven't seen you do much in the kitchen since you arrived."

"That's because," she heaves one of the bags full of veggies onto the counter, causing it to spill out, "I didn't realize hockey players eat like shit. Probably one of the reasons y'all sucked so bad last season."

"Excuse me, I don't eat like shit."

"No," she looks me up and down. "But you do eat like a carnivore, which is why I'm going to introduce you to the wonderful world of vibrant colors."

Fergie stomps in, dripping water, and opens the fridge. The inside is bare except for some takeout and a case of beer.

"Really, Michael," Izzy motions toward the floor and the puddle he's leaving.

He looks back at her and scrunches his nose. "It's just water."

I grab the kitchen towel hanging on the oven and snap it on his ass.