Shots on Goal (Stick Side Book 3)

by Amy Aislin

  Could they get speakers and event leaders for free in exchange for . . . free books? A library card? He rolled his eyes at himself and wheeled his cart to the A-F fiction section.

  “Hey.”

  He looked over and found Roman frowning at five different children’s books.

  Roman held them up. “Are these good for storytime?”

  “Roman!”

  Startled, Roman’s head jerked back. “Yes?”

  Cody dropped the book he held back onto the cart and grabbed Roman’s shoulders. “I need you to wow them tonight.”

  “Who? The kids?”

  “What? No, not the kids. Who cares about them?”

  Roman’s eyes went huge.

  “The parents. I need you to wow the parents.” If the parents were impressed with storytime, they’d never want to take their kids to a different library. “This place is sacred. Do you hear me?” Cody poked Roman in the chest. “Sacred.”

  Roman backed up a step. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “They can’t shut this place down. It’s magic. Mr. Wallace can go to hell.”

  “I mean, it is nice,” Roman said, glancing around. “But also, what?”

  “Never mind.” Cody turned him around and gave him a nudge in the back. “Go do storytime. Impress the shit out of them.”

  “Wait.” Roman pivoted out of Cody’s hold and held up his books. “Which ones?”

  Cody took the stack and went through them. “Unicorns, definitely.” He handed one back. “Dr. Seuss. Classic. Good choice.” He gave Roman back The Lorax. “And sea creatures. Can’t go wrong there. Now go.” He nudged Roman toward the children’s section. “Do me proud.”

  The confused and slightly frightened expression Roman shot him before he stepped out of the aisle turned Cody’s chuckles into mad laughter.

  From what Cody could tell, Roman did him as proud as he could given this was only his second Tiny Tot Storytime and he still occasionally forgot to do the voices.

  The children’s section was separated from the main part of the library by hip-high bookshelves. Cody stood behind one and watched Roman read. He should get back to his abandoned cart in the fiction aisle, but listening to Roman attempt a unicorn voice was vastly more enjoyable.

  He hadn’t noticed it last week, but there was a tattoo on the back of Roman’s neck, peeking out the top of Roman’s long-sleeved T-shirt. Cody was too far away to see any details other than it was black and went up to the base of Roman’s skull. Roman’s right arm was tattooed, Cody remembered, but today it was covered.

  Roman sat a little straighter on his chair today, although he ran his hand over his shaved head no less than four times per book—Cody counted. When the reading was done, little miss You Have To Do The Voices spent five minutes giving Roman book suggestions for next time, which Roman appeared to take very seriously. He even got his phone out and took notes.

  Something in Cody’s belly warmed. Man, Roman was cute. Hot enough to light a candle, but also adorable in how eagerly he followed the girl to the far wall, where she proceeded to withdraw several books from a shelf. Roman took them from her, laid them flat on top of the bookshelf, and took a picture of them with his phone.

  Cody was grinning when Roman came up to him a few minutes later.

  “Since I’m not here next week,” Roman said, “I’ve been told to tell you that the kids would like something with firefighters next time.”

  “That so?”

  “And the one about Alexander’s bad day.”

  Cody nodded. “Got it. Nice job today.”

  Roman’s lips tightened. “Fucking voices trip me up,” he muttered.

  “Read the book ahead of time. That’s what I do.”

  “Good idea.” Roman rubbed his jaw, the scritch of bristles against his palm making Cody’s arm hairs take notice. “I’ll buy them online when I get home.”

  “Why? Just borrow them from the library.”

  “I don’t have a library card. Or a permanent Glen Hill address. Or a Burlington one now that I’m thinking about it.”

  “I can check them out on mine,” Cody offered. “Grab what you need and meet me at the checkout counter.”

  Roman returned with three books: the first in the Babar series, something with dancing cows, and a Berenstain Bears book. “What do you think? Little Miss Ringleader suggested them.”

  Smiling at the nickname, Cody removed his wallet from his jeans and fished out his library card. “If she suggested them, I wouldn’t ignore her.”

  “Yeah, that was my thought too.”

  Cody handed the books and his card to one of the part-timers, and a minute later they were good to go. He held the books out to Roman but kept hold of them. “These will be returned by their due date,” he said, no-nonsense. “This is my library reputation we’re talking about.”

  A corner of Roman’s lips lifted. “I promise not to abscond with your books.”

  He tugged on the books.

  Cody held firm, eyes narrowed.

  Roman’s eyebrows flew up. “I promise.”

  “Don’t disappoint me.” Cody relinquished the books.

  Roman merely smiled.

  Cody said, “I have a break coming up.” He’d been here barely an hour. Whatever. “I’m gonna grab a snack at the café down the street. Wanna come?”

  Head tilted, Roman regarded him for a few seconds, brow furrowed. Cody was sure he was going to decline—in fact, he would’ve bet on it—so was surprised when Roman said, “Okay.”

  Everything except restaurants closed early in Glen Hill, but the Library Café down the street was open late on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It was casual and cozy with a long table that seated twelve in the center of the rustic room, two- and four-seater tables along the wall, and a nook with a weathered wooden table bookended by comfortable couches next to a fireplace.

  Cody ordered himself a hot chocolate and an apple turnover, then took a seat on the couch, as close to the fire as he could get. Roman sat across from him a minute later, the bitter scent of strong coffee reaching Cody’s nose.

  “It’s not too late for you for coffee?” Cody asked, lifting his chin in a nod toward Roman’s mug.

  “I quit smoking a few months ago,” Roman said, clutching the mug in both hands, “and replaced it with a different vice.”

  “Why’d you quit?”

  “Honestly? For no other reason than it seemed stupid to keep going. I’m glad I did, though. Heading outside for a smoke in the winter is vastly different in Florida than in Vermont.”

  “That’s for sure.” Cody cut into his apple turnover and popped a forkful into his mouth. “Besides, you’d never survive the length of an outdoor smoke break in that dinky windbreaker.”

  “There aren’t any fucking decent malls in this state.”

  Roman sounded so put out that Cody laughed and almost choked on his food. “Try the Church Street Marketplace. It’s better than any mall.”

  “I live right next to it.”

  “Yeah? Lucky.” Cody blew on his hot chocolate and took a dainty sip. Still too hot. “Take a walk there. You’ll find more than one store selling winter gear. Actually, if you want company, let me know and I’ll come with you. I need to pick up a belated birthday gift for Mitch.”

  “Mitch?”

  “My best friend. Also roommate.”

  Roman leaned back, crossed an ankle over the other knee, and sipped his coffee. “The hockey player?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Cody forked another bite, swallowed, and said, “Did you make it to his game last week?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. It was a good game. His team won.” He pointed his fork at Roman. “You guys haven’t.”

  Roman was unimpressed. “Thank you for that blunt observation. Any other obvious statements you want to get off your chest?”

  “As a matter of fact.” Setting the last few bites of apple turnover aside, Cody picked up his mug from the table between them. “So far this season, you
r backup goalie has blocked more shots than your starter. Most of the opposing team’s shots happen while your fourth line is on the ice. And your man Ritz hesitated in last week’s game against Montreal.”

  Roman’s brows pinched. “You noticed that?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Cody sipped his hot chocolate. Still hot, but a manageable kind of hot. “Maybe he doesn’t trust his right winger.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He’s a left-handed shooter, right? So his instinct is to shoot right. My hypothesis is that he doesn’t trust his right winger, so he shoots left instead. But the last few games, his regular left winger, Honeybun, has been out sick, so he’s got a new left winger that he also doesn’t trust, and he doesn’t know where to pass the puck.”

  “You saw all that?”

  “I notice things.” Cody waved in Roman’s direction. “Like that hole in your eyebrow. Got an eyebrow ring?”

  “I do,” Roman said, the aforementioned eyebrows winging upward. “I don’t wear it for games or when I know I’ll be recognized.”

  “Same thing with the nose ring too, then?”

  Roman opened his mouth to respond, but Cody beat him to it.

  “Is it like a Clark Kent thing?”

  “Huh?”

  “Like Clark Kent. People don’t recognize you with the facial hardware?”

  “Actually . . .” Sipping his coffee, Roman appeared to think about that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

  “Cool.” Cody brought his mug to his mouth for another sip, then smacked his lips together. “The Clark Kent of hockey,” he said, chuckling to himself.

  Roman’s brow furrowed. He tilted his head and said, “You’re a strange one.”

  “Says the guy with the tongue ring.”

  Roman’s mouth clamped shut.

  Cody asked, “Which one hurt the most?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Does the tongue ring hurt when you eat? Or kiss someone?”

  “No and no.”

  “Huh.” It was probably like an earring, there but forgotten unless they needed to come out. Not that Cody had ever had an earring, but he’d met people with those earrings that left giant holes in the ears, and they hadn’t seemed to be in pain, so his hypothesis must be right.

  “Anything else you want to know?” Roman asked, sounding faintly exasperated.

  “Well—”

  “What was that back there?” He tilted his head toward the door, coffee mug held loosely in his lap. “At the library. Why am I trying to impress the parents with my unicorn voice?”

  Cody’s hand clenched on his mug. “Apparently some too-big-for-his-britches concerned citizen is going to make a proposal at the next town meeting to shut down the library.”

  “Why?”

  “Costs,” Cody said, tilting his head back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. “That, and apparently the one in Montpelier is so much better.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Stupid Mr. Wallace.”

  “Isn’t Montpelier twenty minutes away?”

  Cody grunted his affirmation. “Thirty for those who live on the outskirts of town.”

  “That’s not exactly next door for storytime.”

  “Right?” Suddenly invigorated, Cody sat up from his slouch. “And the Glen Hill library offers free interlibrary loans with the Montpelier library and any other public library in the state, so it’s not like anyone’s missing out. Plus getting a library card at the Montpelier library costs fifty bucks for people who aren’t citizens of Montpelier!” When Roman sent him a disbelieving glance, he said, “Trust me, I know. I’ve tried to get one four times, at the start of every school year.”

  “Why do you need access to two different libraries? Three, I guess, if you count your college library.”

  The answer was obvious. “More books.”

  “Aren’t you the one who just told me about interlibrary loans?”

  Cody spoke into his mug. “They take two days. Sometimes I want the book right now.” He couldn’t interpret Roman’s smile. It was almost . . . fond?

  “What do you like to read?”

  “Mysteries mostly.” He picked at the remainder of his apple turnover. “Sometimes true crime.”

  “I like fantasy myself.”

  Cody’s mouth stopped mid-chew. “You read?”

  “Why do you say that like I’m an unintelligent jock who’s never seen a book in his life?” Roman asked. He didn’t sound insulted, merely curious.

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Or was it? “I guess I figured you wouldn’t have enough time to read.”

  “I’m a hockey player, not a doctor. I do get downtime.”

  “Enough downtime to come watch my friend’s game sometime?”

  Roman finished off his coffee and set his mug on the table. “I suppose. Don’t know why you want me to so bad, though.”

  You look like you need friends was not the way Cody should answer. He tried for nonchalant and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you? The Mountaineers are awesome, Glen Hill isn’t too far from Burlington, and it’s a great way to spend an evening.”

  “The University of Vermont has a hockey team. I could just go watch them.”

  Cody scowled at the mention of the Glen Hill Mountaineers’ rivals. “Traitor.”

  It made Roman laugh and little creases formed at the corner of his eyes, which, for some reason, made Cody grin back at him.

  “We’ll see,” Roman said, burrowing deeper into the corner of the couch. “One of my former teammates is visiting this weekend and he also invited me to the game. He used to play for Glen Hill College.”

  You don’t say. “You mean Alex Dean?”

  Alex Dean, who was Mitch’s fiancé. They’d met two and a half years ago while Alex was on leave from his team and had spoken at a lecture session Mitch had attended.

  Cody knew Alex had come out to most of his teammates when he’d still been with Tampa, that he’d told them he had a boyfriend. And he was almost certain that Alex hadn’t told Roman on account of the whole Kinsey’s-an-asshole thing.

  “You know Dean?” Roman asked.

  “He’s good friends with Mitch,” Cody said, keeping it simple, unwilling to reveal the full truth. As a couple who valued their privacy, Alex and Mitch were keeping their relationship a secret from everyone except their families and closest friends; it wasn’t Cody’s place to out them.

  Understanding crossed Roman’s face. “So your friend Mitch is also Dean’s friend who was a first-round draft pick last summer?”

  Cody nodded.

  “That makes so much more sense.”

  “Than what?”

  “Than you and Dean both having a separate friend on a random college hockey team in a random, tiny town in Vermont.”

  That was fair.

  Done with his apple turnover, Cody set the plate on the table. “So will you come?”

  Roman’s small smile held a secret Cody couldn’t read. “Maybe.”

  Homemade chicken noodle soup said Be my friend, right?

  One of the first times Roman had been the new guy on the team, he’d been sixteen and had just started playing in the major juniors in Ottawa. He’d walked into the locker room full of swagger and cockiness and found an entire team full of swagger and cockiness. If there was anything that could bring him down a peg, it was that first practice where the rest of the guys—most of whom, at the time, had been bigger and older than him—had managed to both out-skate and out-score him. Their swagger and cockiness were deserved. Roman, on the other hand, had been a very small fish in a very large pond.

  A year and a half later he’d been caught kissing a boy and his friends on the team had declared that homos didn’t belong in hockey. From there on out, he’d still maintained his swagger and cockiness with each new team, but now it loudly proclaimed Don’t fuck with me instead of I’m the shit.

  Which was the attitude he’d portrayed on his first skate with the Tr
ailblazers last week—right after Coach’s team spirit speech, no less—thus alienating the guys to the point where they didn’t talk to him except on the ice. And that sucked because of the whole aforementioned team spirit thing, meaning he now had to get on their good side.

  Hence: soup.

  But soup would only get two people on his good side: Ritz, who Roman intended to give the soup to, and Honeybun, the actual recipient of said soup.

  He should’ve brought homemade cookies.

  Sucking in a deep breath at his own stupidity, he sauntered into the Trailblazers’ locker room in their practice facility, plastic container of chicken noodle soup tucked under his arm like a football, gym bag over the other shoulder. Ritz wasn’t here yet, so he headed for his own locker, nodding hellos to the other guys—something he never did that garnered him return nods paired with confused eye squints.

  Man, he had a lot of work to do.

  Sitting on the bench in front of the row of lockers, he pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and found a text from Cody with the address of the arena his buddy’s college hockey team was playing at tonight. As if Roman couldn’t google the name of the Glen Hill College student arena.

  He was shaking his head in amusement as he typed You’re pretty confident I’ll be there and sent it off.

  Two minutes later, Cody rebutted with There’ll be pizza after.

  Roman was grinning at that pseudo-bribe as he rose to shuck what Cody had called his dinky windbreaker, almost bumping into Ritz, who’d materialized from somewhere and was staring at Roman while he munched on a greasy fast food breakfast sandwich. It smelled so fatty it made Roman’s stomach turn.

  When Ritz didn’t move out of his way, Roman said, “What’s up?”

  Ritz chewed slowly and pointed a finger at him. “You’re smiling. Didn’t know you could do that.” He edged past Roman with a pat on the back. “Keep it up. Looks good on you.”

  What the . . . ? Nope, forget it. Roman wasn’t going to try to figure out what the fuck.

  “How’s Honeybun?”

  Ritz dropped his gym bag onto the floor and fell onto the bench. “He sounds like that squeaky penguin from Toy Story.”