Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
Amelia
“This is so exciting,” Tyler says as he looks around the facility.
“Don’t embarrass me,” I tell him. “Please.”
Brandon slings his arm around my shoulders, baby Ainsley strapped to his chest. “Don’t worry, Meels. We’ve got you.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
The arena is aflutter with pre-game activity. I’ve already clocked out for the day, but it’s hard to leave work knowing the guys are about to go head-to-head with Ottawa in ninety short minutes.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” Robby says loudly, and a few guys turn to look as the assistant equipment manager approaches us. He gives Tyler a broad grin. “Hey, Ty. Brando.”
“Rob. Good to see you,” my brother says, offering his hand. “You’re looking good.”
“You, too.” Robby turns his attention to the baby, his finger running over her tiny fist. “And who’s this?”
“This is our daughter,” Brandon says. “Ainsley.”
I swear Robby’s heart melts right in front of us. “Shit, she’s gorgeous.” He winks at me, and then grins at Brando. “You guys look good with a kid. Total Daddies.”
Ty snickers, elbowing his husband. “We’re Daddies now.”
“You’re annoying now,” I mutter under my breath. Except it isn’t quite as quiet as I hoped.
Gonzo, ten feet away at his cubby, laughs. “This must be your family.”
With a sigh, I resign myself to an inquisition. “This is my brother, Tyler, and his husband, Brandon.”
“Nice to meet you, man,” Gonzo says, standing and walking over on his skate blades. His hockey pants are loose around the waist, and as he waddles over, they slip dangerously low on his hips. He grabs at them, and then offers his hand for a shake. “Al Gonzales. We love Amelia here.”
My face flushes. “Shut up.”
My brother laughs. “You just have to stand there and take it. Let them praise you.”
“That’s not my kink.”
Brandon chokes out a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t need to know my baby sister’s kinks.”
I roll my eyes. “I stopped being your baby sister the second they implanted me with your sperm.”
Tyler gags. “We don’t need any more incest jokes, thanks.”
Gonzo’s eyes ping back and forth between us. “You guys are hilarious. Reminds me of my siblings.”
“Do people also make incestuous jokes about you and your siblings?” I ask, cocking my head.
He snickers. “No. Not a chance.”
Robby grins. “This is so much more fun than I thought.”
“So, you all know each other?” Gonzo asks, his eyes flicking between where Robby is still holding Ainsley’s hand.
“We go way back,” Ty says.
“We used to date,” Robby states.
Gonzo chokes. “All three of you?”
Brandon laughs, a hearty sound that echoes throughout the dressing room. “Nah. Just the two of them. I came along after they broke up.”
“Cool. Nice to meet you, have you join the crew. The extended family is all super supportive.”
There are footsteps behind us, and I turn in the direction of the sound. “We should probably get to our seats.”
“Hey, Cap!” Gonzo says. “Come meet Amelia’s family.”
My gaze locks on McKittrick’s, the hard set of his jaw. And then, against my will, my eyes sweep over his form. He’s only wearing his base layer on the bottom, his chest bare. His body is every bit as cut up close as I imagined it would be from far away.
I haven’t had the chance to work on him since that first day, and he was fully clothed at the time. I was focused on his knee, not on the rest of him.
And the rest of him is potent.
“Guests aren’t allowed in the dressing room,” McKittrick says tightly.
“Oh. We’ll get out of the way,” Brandon says. He runs a hand over Ainsley’s back, shifting his weight as she makes a soft noise.
“I invited them,” Robby says. “We’re on our way back to the equipment cave.”
McKittrick grunts.
“Sorry to intrude,” my brother says. “I’m Tyler, and this is my husband, Brandon.”
The hockey player nods, guarded. “Jason McKittrick.”
Brandon cocks his head. “Haven’t I seen you before?”
“I’m your neighbor,” McKittrick says. “My living room window faces yours.”
Tyler frowns. “So, you’re the asshole who doesn’t close his blinds.”
I choke. Does he know about the private shows?
No. He can’t. There’s no way he knows.
“You guys don’t close your curtains, either,” McKittrick says lightly.
MacGregor and Logan shuffle past us. The redhead stops suddenly, and Logan slams into his back.
“What the fuck, man,” Logan mutters.
“You’re Brandon Walker,” MacGregor says.
Guarded, my brother-in-law nods. “Yeah.” Just because he’s in a pro hockey dressing room doesn’t mean people can’t get weird.
“Shit, man,” he says. “Aidan MacGregor. I’m a huge fan.”
“Yeah?” Brandon grins, offering his hand.
“You’re always the first pick on my fantasy team,” MacGregor says. “You and Austin Anderson are, like, the dream team.”
Logan groans. “He’s not going to shut up about this for a month.”
Brandon flushes, a pleased smile on his face. “Sorry, not sorry.”
“Nah, man, it’s cool,” Logan says. “We all need our hobbies.”
“I played ball through high school. Gave it up to get serious about hockey, but fuck, sometimes I miss it.”
“Well, if you ever want to toss a ball around, hit me up,” Brandon says.
MacGregor gapes at him. “I think I love you.”
“He’s married,” Tyler says,with a smirk.
The hockey player shrugs. “Didn’t say I was going to propose.”
McKittrick clears his throat. “We need to get ready for our game.”
“Yes. Right. The game.” MacGregor nods. “You guys heading to the bar after?”
“Nah. We have to get the little one home,” Brandon says. “We’ll stay for the game, but taking an infant to a bar probably won’t win us any parenting points.”
“Good call,” Logan says. He gives us a broad smile. “Nice meeting you guys. Hailey’s up in the family suite, if you want to join her.”
That’s MacGregor’s sister. I met her once. She’s nice, if a bit quiet.
“Thanks, man,” Ty says. “Nice to meet you all.”
Robby leads us down the hallway to the equipment cave, where he spends most of his time sharpening skates, mending jerseys, and getting all the equipment ready.
Sinclair rummages through one of the cabinets, coming up with a roll of tape.
“Hey. Is it bring your family to work day?” He grins at us, his hockey smile missing two teeth courtesy of a high stick to the face last week.
“Something like that,” I mutter. “You’re good and loose?” I worked on his hamstring a few hours ago.
He nods. “Feeling great. Thanks for the assist.”
“Any time. You know where to find me.”
He shuffles off. My work day is technically over, since I’m not on shift for the game. Zac already left, and Graham and Derek will handle everything. It feels weird to just go home when the guys are playing, though. I’m just as much part of the team as any other staff member.
After a few more minutes chatting with Robby, I lead my brothers through the tunnels to the stands. My comp tickets are in the nosebleeds, but I don’t think the guys care. They’re more focused on getting out of the house and drinking beer than on the game itself.
With a Grizzlies ball cap pulled low, nobody else recognizes Brandon, and we enjoy the game from the uncomfortable stadium seats with our overpriced beer and snacks.
Ainsley sleeps through most of the game, her little ears protected by giant muffs.
When she wakes up, Tyler and Brandon take turns walking her around the upper concourse, turning down my repeated offers to take a shift.
The guys look good on the ice. They’re up two points over Tampa, and after losing their last two games, the team is hungry for redemption. MacGregor and Larsson have each scored goals. McKittrick landed five shots on goal by himself. He wants a goal—he wants it bad.
They’re in the offensive zone when MacGregor wins the face-off. He kicks the puck back to Logan, who pressures the Tampa forwards, dekes past a defenseman, and shoots.
The goalie blocks the shot—pad save.
But the rebound—it goes right to McKittrick’s stick. He may be one of the oldest players in the league, but his one-timer is still brutal.
And with a flick of his wrist, he buries the puck in the back of the net. The lamp lights red, and the goal horn sounds.
The guys crowd McKittrick in a circle for celebratory hugs, and then he leads the charge down the line of teammates for fist bumps.
My smile stretches from ear to ear. I wish I could be on the ice with them, watching from my safe space in the tunnel, but it’s almost sweeter to watch from the stands. I get to appreciate it with thousands of fans.
And when the night’s over and I’m alone in my room, the lights turned down low, I wait for McKittrick to get back to his place. He stops short when he sees me waiting for him.
He cocks his head, the lights behind him concealing his features.
But I know him well enough to understand he wants this.
I drop my robe.
He doesn’t look away.
The man got a goal tonight, bringing home the W for the team. The least thing I can do is give him another show.
Although really… I think I’m the one winning here.