CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO #2
Graham reached for his skates as he heard someone say, “Is this area off-limits to me now?”
Graham glanced up to see Bobby Tucker in the doorway wearing an ugly suit and the same scraggly facial hair he’d always had.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Crawford drawled, gesturing for him to come inside.
One of the security guards stepped forward like he was going to tell him no—opponents generally weren’t allowed in the locker room, even if they were former players—but Connor waved him off.
“How are you, asshole?” Crawford asked. They gave each other big, backslapping bro hugs and several other guys crowded around to greet Bobby.
Graham had never been a huge fan of the guy personally and had been more than happy when Gavin traded Bobby, a fourth-round pick in the 2025 draft and a conditional second-round pick in the 2026 draft, for Rafe, but he still stood and greeted his former teammate with a handshake, not wanting to be rude.
“How’s it going in Minnesota?” Connor asked after he’d followed suit.
“Oh, pretty good. I’m getting some decent minutes on the third line.” Bobby shrugged.
“Nice.”
There was the usual round of hockey small talk, discussions of golf games, before Bobby looked around.
“So, what’s new around here?” he asked. “I can’t believe it’s already been almost a year since I played with you guys.”
Connor shrugged. “Not much. It’s been fairly quiet, to be honest.”
Graham nodded, agreeing. There hadn’t been any major roster or head office changes lately.
“You knew Rafe and Mickey were dating, yeah?” Connor asked, gesturing to them.
Bobby snorted. “Yeah, I saw the shitshow from the press box with Rafe’s ex when you guys were visiting us last season.”
Both Mickey and Rafe got sheepish looks on their faces and Graham laughed quietly at the reminder. That game had been a shitshow.
“It’s all good now, I promise,” Rafe said with a laugh. “We’re meeting him for dinner tonight.”
Bobby whistled. “Couldn’t be me, having dinner with an ex like that.”
Crawford scoffed. “Yeah, because you’ve never been with anyone long enough to have an ex.”
“Neither have you!” Bobby protested.
“That’s because I don’t want to,” Crawford said with a grin. “You couldn’t get a woman if you tried.”
Bobby let out an outraged noise and lunged forward, grappling with Crawford.
Graham grinned at the chirp as Bobby feinted like he was going to try to get in a hit in on Crawford. He had the height and good reach, but he was at least thirty pounds lighter.
He’d get flattened if Crawford actually took a swing.
When they finally settled down and stopped horsing around, Bobby pushed his hair off his forehead. “Seriously though. I’m glad you’re okay though, Mouse. An ear infection? That shit is wild.”
“Yeah, it was,” Mickey agreed. “But Tanner is not bringing home germs to the team anymore.”
He glanced pointedly to the whiteboard on the wall that said “My Name Is … Tanner Clayton. It Has Been 3 Days Since I Was Patient Zero.”
“The counter shouldn’t have reset, you assholes! I have been so good this season. It wasn’t my fault Erik had the sniffles last weekend!” Tanner protested loudly. “That is slander to my good name.”
“Suuure, it wasn’t,” Connor said, sounding dubious. “And what good name?”
Graham laughed at Tanner’s outraged squawk.
Bobby grinned too, his expression turning a little wistful. “Man, sometimes I miss this locker room. The vibes aren’t the same in Minnie.”
“Yeah, we have a good group here,” Connor agreed.
“So, seriously, nothing else going on here?” Bobby asked, glancing around and looking disappointed, like he thought some exciting news might be lurking around the corner.
“Well, I’m dating someone,” Graham admitted with a shrug. He was pretty sure that wasn’t the news Bobby wanted.
But … he’d asked.
“Yeah? What else is new? That’s like … your thing, right?”
“Uhh, well,” Graham said, mildly offended by the characterization, even if it probably had been true before he started dating Thad. “It’s Thad I’m dating now.”
“What the fuck?” Bobby said as his expression melted from amused to disgusted. “You’re dating a dude?”
“Yeah,” Graham said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. “So?”
“What the fuck? I thought you were straight, man.”
“So did I. Turns out, I guess I’m not. Why? You got a problem with that?”
Bobby grimaced. “I dunno. It’s just fuckin’ weird.”
“Maybe to you,” Graham said cooly, trying to keep his rising anger in check. “I’m pretty happy now.”
“Well, uh, congrats, I guess.” Bobby ran a hand through his hair.
“Thanks.” Graham’s tone was flat.
“I feel like … if you’re gonna be gay, you can do better than a guy like that.” He sneered.
“Excuse me?” Graham bristled. The bi erasure was bad enough but to insult Thad? No fucking way.
“I’m just sayin’…”
Graham stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. “What are you saying, exactly?”
Bobby let out an uneasy laugh, glance darting around the room. “C’mon. Some forty-year-old, ex-con social media guy?” The disdain dripped from his tone. “You can do way better, man.”
“Bobby …” Connor said warningly. “You know damn well we don’t typically allow opponents in the locker room. I made an exception for you and—"
“Shut the fuck up, Tucker!” Graham seethed. “You don’t know him.”
“I know his type (no. Loser scumbags who’ll probably be back behind bars in a couple years.” Bobby rolled his eyes.
Red filled Graham’s vision, and he lunged forward with a roar, a fraction of a second after Connor got a grip on Tucker’s suit jacket and shook him. Shouts rose up, guys piling in, and Graham shoved forward, fighting to get to Bobby in the middle of the melee.
Graham finally got through the mess and drew back his arm, ready to land a punch in the middle of Bobby’s stupid fucking face when his wrist was caught in a tight grip.
“No fuckin’ way,” Crawford said in his ear. “You’re not a fighter, Pennington, and you’ll end up breaking some bones. We can’t afford that shit.”
In a movement almost too fast for Graham to even register, Crawford shoved Graham out of the way, pulled back, and landed a punch squarely on Bobby Tucker’s nose.
The spurt of blood and howl of outrage seemed almost simultaneous and there was an audible gasp from around the room as he staggered back, barely catching himself before he landed on the floor.
“Dude!” Tucker said thickly. “What the fuck, Crawford? What was that for?”
He got to his feet and swiped a towel off a nearby cart, pressing it to his face.
“You had that coming,” Crawford said grimly, shaking out his hand. “Should’ve known you had a hard head though, you asshole.”
“What the fuck did I do?” Bobby protested, his nose already stuffed up.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Crawford drawled. “Maybe acted like an asshole to my fucking teammate and his boyfriend?”
Bobby scoffed and lowered his bloodstained towel. “Yeah, like you’re so fucking happy being in a locker room with all of these—”
This time, it was Connor who stopped him, finally getting a grip on his suit jacket.
“You shut the fuck up right now or I will throw you out by the scruff of your goddamn neck.” His voice was low and furious.
“This is my locker room. I didn’t like you when you were in it and I like you even less now.
Get out and don’t come in here again. If anyone on the team wants to stay friends with you, that’s their fucking business but you can do it outside of my locker room, you hear me? ”
He glanced around the room, glaring at every guy still in there.
“And if anyone agrees with Bobby, if anyone has a problem with those of us who are dating guys, I want you out of here too. You can march your ass to the GM’s office and tell him why you aren’t happy here.
Because trust me, Gavin will be happy to find guys eager and willing to play for this team if you aren’t. ”
No one moved a muscle.
“Good.” Connor spun Bobby around and grabbed him by the shoulder. He nodded at Crawford who got him by the other arm. They marched a protesting Bobby out and shoved him unceremoniously into the hall.
“And stay out,” Connor roared before turning and stalking back inside the locker room, Crawford on his heels.
The doors didn’t slam closed because they were the automatic kind, but as they clicked shut behind them, there was a finality to it that seemed to reverberate through the locker room.
Rusty—the equipment guy—mutely handed over an icepack to Crawford who took it with an appreciative nod, hissing as he applied it to his hand.
“You okay?” someone asked, and Graham was confused when he realized it was Thad talking to him. Apparently, he’d slipped in while the doors were open.
“I’m fine. Jesus. How are you? Did you—”
“I didn’t hear most of it,” Thad said with a sigh. “But I got the gist. I appreciate you sticking up for me, baby, but Crawford is right. Those hands are way too valuable to this team to have you fighting.”
Crawford held out his unbruised hand toward Thad for knuckle bumps. Thad responded without ever looking away from Graham’s face.
“I can stand up for you too, you know?” Graham protested. “You don’t always have to be the one throwing yourself into the fray to protect other people. You can let the people who care about you stick up for you sometimes.”
“I get what you’re saying. And I mostly agree. Just … try to use your words, not your fists next time, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Graham said with a scowl.
Lifting Graham’s hand to his mouth, Thad gave him a crooked smile, then pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
“Look, I’m not in a position where I can ever get a Cup for myself.
But you can. So how about you protect the moneymakers for that reason?
Do it for your team and what you can help lead them toward. ”
“Yeah, okay. Fine.” Graham let out an annoyed grumble, even though he knew Thad was right.
“Good.” Thad reached out and squeezed his side.
Graham leaned in, finding comfort in his touch as he thought about what Thad had said.
If this Harriers team ever had the opportunity to lift a Cup, Graham wouldn’t only be doing it for himself, or his teammates. He’d be doing it for Thad. Even if his name would never appear on it, it would be for him too.
Graham glanced over at Crawford. “Hey, I don’t think I said this earlier, but I appreciate the assist, man.”
“Yeah, of course.” Crawford slapped his shoulder with his uninjured hand. “Got your back. You’re gonna owe me a drink the next time we’re out there though.”
“Done,” Graham promised with a laugh.
Crawford glanced at Thad. “And don’t worry about whatever bullshit Bobby said. People give ex-cons a bad rap and some of ’em deserve it, but I know plenty of decent guys who had some bad fucking luck and ended up in the prison system. That shit’ll fuck you up too.”
“Tell me about it,” Thad said with a sigh. “I have some stories that would—"
“Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on in here?” The doors opened slowly to reveal a distraught-looking Gavin, who shouldered his way in. “Why the hell did security notify me about an altercation taking place in the locker room?”