Awk-Weird (Ice Knights, #2)(22)

“Are you okay?” Tess asked, rushing over with a glass of water. “Shit. Do you have an EpiPen? Do you need to go to the hospital? I could call Fallon—she’s an ER nurse!”

“I’ll be fine.” This wasn’t the first time it had happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He had a process to deal with it.

“Are you sure?” Tess pressed the back of her hand to his forehead as if he had a fever. “You didn’t throw back that Benadryl like you were fine.”

“It’s a minor cinnamon allergy. I get hives, that’s it.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket because it was time to move on to step two. He started texting. “But I do have to tell the team doctor what happened—that’s the routine outlined in the team rules.”

“I swear, I’m not trying to kill you on purpose,” Tess said, shoving her curly blond hair behind both ears. “Can I make you some cinnamon-free french toast to make up for it?”

Even if he was the kind of guy who liked to take risks, that probably wouldn’t happen. As it was, this whole incident was pretty much the perfect reminder of why sticking to his routine was the best option.

“I’ll just stick with my usual,” he said, punctuating it with a smile now that his lips had stopped tingling. “Hard-boiled eggs, blueberries, bacon, and avocado toast.”

Ten minutes later, he was smashing the avocado onto his toast while a slump-shouldered Tess shoved pieces of syrup-drenched french toast around her plate when his phone rang. Coach Peppers’s face popped up on the screen. This was going to go about as well as the french toast.

“It’s not that bad,” Cole said in lieu of a greeting. “I’ll be fine at practice and definitely for the next game.”

“What, were you studying the new plays so hard, you forgot you’re allergic to cinnamon?” Coach asked, his tone the usual mix of grit and annoyance. “Don’t bother lying—we both know you’ve been avoiding the new system. The good news is you’ll have extra time to learn it, because the doc wants you to miss practice today.” Coach let out a frustrated huff of disgust. “The league is being more stringent about this kind of thing since Nelson had to retire because of his allergic reaction to the hockey equipment and Fesil ate chicken at a team dinner that had peanuts in it. And since tomorrow is an off day, I don’t want to see you until the morning skate on game day.”

“That’s bullshit,” Cole said, his body tightening as a blast of frustration shot through him. “Those cases were both extreme. I just had a few bites of french toast. I’m. Fine.”

“Good to know,” Coach said. “I’ll see you when you’re cleared.”

Fuck. No. He didn’t miss practices. Not unless he was missing a limb or something. This was hockey, not soccer. They played through the pain. Shit. He’d hit the ice after getting five stitches above his right eyebrow and scored more goals than any other game in his career. “That’s not fair—”

Coach snorted. “Neither is life. Deal with it.”

He hung up and Cole stared down at his phone, trying to figure out what had just happened. Hockey was his constant. No matter what town they lived in or how many times they’d moved that year, there was always a team—even if it was just pickup street hockey on a dead-end cul-de-sac.

Now everything in his life was in flux and he fucking hated it. All he wanted was his normal breakfast, to follow his usual schedule, and to skate his regular plays.

He dumped his breakfast back into the prep box and put it back into the fridge. “I should be on my run right now.”

Tess looked up with a jerk, concern making the corners of her full mouth dip downward. “Is that safe, since you just had that reaction and took two Benadryl?”

“It’s what I’m supposed to be doing.” As opposed to getting distracted by Tess doing her ass-shimmy dance moves in his kitchen.

He had everything worked out. His career in hockey. His life with Marti—a second constant in his life after hockey. Shit, she was the reason there even was cinnamon in his kitchen cabinets. Change wasn’t an option.

Now he was barred from today’s practice, had knocked up the wrong woman, and she’d almost poisoned him. It was just— He glanced over at Tess still sitting at the table by the big bay window. She was eating the last few bites of french toast with jerky movements, her whole body rigid and her eyes focused on anything but him—it was like watching a puppy who’d just been kicked, and it hit him right in the solar plexus.

Nice going, asshole. Do you feel better now that you made her feel like shit?

“Tess,” he said, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“This is going to be a transition for both of us. No worries, though, I promise not to make anything else with cinnamon,” she said with a forced smile as she stood up and walked with stiff steps to the sink, where she rinsed off her plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Well, I have to go open the shop. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Kahn doesn’t escape my room so you don’t have to worry about kitten attacks.” She paused, taking in a deep breath before letting it out. “And don’t worry, we’ll be out of here as soon as possible and you can get back to your normally scheduled life. I’ll make sure you barely notice us until then. I don’t want to be the crabgrass in your lawn.”