Page 66 of Square to the Puck

“Yeah, they are. And you shouldn’t be lifting that—give it to me.” He tugs the box out of Lawson’s hands and looks at me. I offer a consoling smile, which must not be convincing because he frowns.Later, I tell him, with a small shake of my head, and follow the pair of them inside.

“You’re late!” Troy calls, when Lawson steps through the back door.

“I know, sorry, I had a stop to make and it took a little longer than I thought it would.”

“What the hell is in here, anyway?” Corwin asks, grunting as he slides the box onto the patio table. “Encyclopedia’s?”

“Team stuff I want you guys to sign. I’m going to bring it with me to SCU, give it to the boys.”

Corwin stops trying to peek into the box and looks up at his friend. Troy has an equally nonplussed look on his face, prompting Sam to ask the question everyone is thinking.

“Why are you going to be at the University?”

“Doing a favor for a friend. They need coaching help running camps during the off-season, so I said I’d do it.” Corwin and I exchange a look behind Lawson’s back. He sounds like he’s talking about having a dental procedure done, not volunteering his time as a defensive coach.

“You don’t sound excited about it.” Sam notes, having picked up on the tone as well. Lawson grunts, shaking his head.

“No, I am. I’ve already done a few days and the players are great. Not a huge fan of the head coach, though.”

Corwin screws up his face, thinking. “Who’s the head coach, now? They fired the last one, right?”

“Right. Nico Mackenzie is running the program now.” Lawson moves his shoulder in an agitated motion, like he’s trying to dislodge a fly. “He’s an arrogant, egotistical asshole.”

Corwin’s eyebrows are in danger of disappearing into his hairline. “That’s a strong impression of someone you’ve only just met a few days ago.”

“Yeah, well, he’s got a strongly dislikable personality.”

“You’ll win him over.” Troy says, confidently.

“Or dump his body in the ocean.” Lawson mutters under his breath.

“Wait a second,” I straighten, realizing why that name sounds familiar, “Nico Mackenzie who used to play in the AHL?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“You know him?” Corwin asks, and I hold my hand out flat in front of me, rocking it back and forth.

“Not really. Played against him a few times, but I can’t recall ever having a conversation with the guy. I do know his career was cut short because of an injury, though. He got boarded, hard, and his visor shattered. There was talk for a while that he would lose his eye.”

Everyone winces in sympathy, though Lawson shakes his head as he walks off to check on the grill, still annoyed. Amused, I smile at Corwin, forgetting for a moment the conversation waiting for us after everyone leaves. He steps up beside me, hand resting on my low back and a content look on his face. It had been his idea to have everyone over to celebrate Troy and Sam’s engagement, the pair of whom were currently having a good-natured argument about when and where to have the wedding.

“We could do it right now. I’m ordained.” Lawson puts in, and I burst out laughing.Of course he is.

Troy, looking over and seeing us standing together in the periphery, leans over to whisper something to Sam before standing and walking over. Sam has joined Lawson at the grill, holding his empty plate; they devolve into laughter that has Troy looking over his shoulder with a sappy expression on his face.

“So, is it going to be a backyard, shotgun wedding?” I ask him.

“Only if everyone here has a death wish.” He shakes his head, seriously. “His parents would kill us.”

Corwin chuckles, and I look over at him. The late afternoon sun is sending shafts of light over the backyard, painting his hair bronze. He’s relaxed and in his element here at home, surrounded by his friends. Just this morning, he had rolled over in bed and sleepily asked when we might go to Canada to meet my family—planning our future together as surely as Troy and Sam were doing the same.

“The wedding is what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.” Troy tells Corwin, red staining his cheekbones faintly.

“Sure. What can I do to help?” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Corwin brings up his notes app in case he needs to jot stuff down.

“Oh, well, actually,” Troy’s gaze flicks over to me before settling back on Corwin, who’s waiting patiently for instruction, “I was wanting to ask if you’d be my best man.”

Corwin’s arms drop to his side, and I reach over to pluck his phone from his hand before it falls on the ground. “Really?”