“Uh, no, thanks. That combination of toppings is pretty gag worthy.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” I leave him standing in the hall, put the pizza in the fridge, and consider stopping in the bathroom to make sure I look okay but decide against putting in the effort, since he’s not asking for help for any reason other than I’m convenient.

He’s leaning against the wall, head bowed with his phone in his hand, when I come back out. “The Uber will be here in a couple of minutes.”

“Great.”

The ride down to the lobby is awkward. He leans against the mirrored glass with his eyes closed and breathes heavily through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

He cracks one lid. “Yeah. I’ll be better when I’m sitting down again.”

I don’t bother with more chitchat on the short trip to the lobby. The Uber is already waiting. Bishop opens the door and motions for me to get in. I guess he does have some manners.

“Why don’t you go first?” I suggest.

He looks like he wants to argue but decides against it. He lowers himself slowly into the back seat and grunts as he lifts each leg in, folding himself into the sedan. He’s huge and it’s a Civic, so there isn’t a ton of room for his long legs or the rest of his body.

I lay the crutches over his lap and get in on the other side, putting me behind the driver. The arena isn’t terribly far from the apartment, and rush-hour traffic is long over. During the short trip our Uber driver tells us all about his plan to become a famous musician. He even hands me a postcard when we’re stopped at a light and proceeds to tell us he’s the lead singer of his band, and he plays the guitar. “You should totally come see the band this weekend.” His gaze shifts to Bishop in the rearview mirror, but Bishop’s eyes are closed. “You can bring your boyfriend too.”

I snort. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Bishop cracks a lid and eyes me from the side but doesn’t comment.

“Oh?” Uber Driver, whose name is Jett, according to the tag hanging from the rearview mirror, perks up. “Well, in that case maybe you wanna come see me play, and we can get a drink afterward?”

Bishop scoffs. “Are you seriously trying to pick her up?”

“Are you guys, like, a thing?” Uber Jett’s eyes dart from me to Bishop.

“No, but it’s pretty tacky, don’t you think? First of all, you have no idea what’s going on between us. Just because she told you I’m not her boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m not something. I’m not, but that’s beside the point.” Bishop’s annoyed gaze locks on the side of my face. “Also, what’s she gonna say when she’s trapped in this car with you until we get where we’re going? You’re almost forcing her to say yes, even if she doesn’t want to.”

“It’s really okay.” I pin Bishop with a “What the fuck?” look and slip the postcard in my purse.

“It’s really not,” Bishop says.

Thankfully, we pull into the arena parking lot, and Bishop gives him clipped, irritated directions to his car, ending whatever that was.

CHAPTER 11

SMALL SPACES

Bishop

I don’t know why I’m being such an asshole to the Uber kid, other than he’s being ballsy with the way he asked out Rook’s baby sister. I’m tempted to one star him, but then he might one star me back.

He might one star me anyway. Not that I honestly give a shit.

Stevie doesn’t offer to help me get out of the car, which is a lot harder than getting in. Uber Kid takes off as soon as I close the door.

“Well, that was fun.” Stevie’s arms are crossed, and it draws attention to her perky tits, the nipples of which are burned into my memory for all eternity.

“You’re out of his league, and he’s not even remotely your type.”

“You have no idea what my type is,” she snaps.

“I know it’s not a chain-smoking Uber driver who probably snorts blow.” I dig around in my sweats pocket until I find the keys to my SUV. The lights flash as I unlock the doors and hand the keys to her.

She looks my car over. It’s not flashy or overly expensive. It’s practical, decent on gas, and fits all my hockey gear. I like my money in my bank account more than I like fast cars. Would I enjoy driving around in a sweet sports car? Maybe, but dropping a quarter of a million dollars on a vehicle is a stupid way to burn through money when I have no idea how long my career is going to last. I’m pragmatic and I don’t have a five-year contract with an $11-million-a-year salary like her brother does. All I have is two seasons at five mil a year, and I’d like that to last the rest of my life and Nolan’s if it needs to.

I toss my crutches in the back while she adjusts the driver’s seat so she can reach the gas and brake.

I’m about to get in when Kingston comes jogging across the lot. His hair is wet and parted on the side. He looks a lot like Captain America and dresses like a golf pro. It fits his personality. “Hey! I’m surprised to see you. I figured you wouldn’t be moving around for at least a couple more days.”

I lean against the side of my SUV. “Just coming to pick up my car.”

“I would’ve brought it back for you.” His Volvo SUV beeps from the next spot over, and he tosses his hockey bag in the back seat. He peeks over my shoulder and tips his chin up. “Who’s driving?”