Chapter 20
Jefferson
“Where’s the bottle of cleaner?” I’m rummaging under the kitchen sink, head first. “I know we have one. It’s yellow. Smells like lemons?” Straightening, I look over at the living room where Reid, Axel, Shelby, and Nadia stare back. “Are we out? Fuck, don’t tell me we’re out.”
“What’s happening here?” Axel asks from the couch, one eyebrow raised.
“I think this is what Jefferson looks like when he likes a girl,” Nadia replies, grinning.
“Shut up,” I snap, pointing at her with the rag. “And get your feet off the coffee table. I just wiped that off.”
Ingrid is coming to town. No, Ingrid is coming here. To the Manor. To a house where four hockey players have lived for the past three years. I know it smells like hockey pads and stale beer. I know it, even if I can no longer smell it. I got desensitized long ago.
Madison’s coming with her–it was the only way to get everyone on board.
With the final shows coming up, it’s too risky for her to be out alone, even though I’ve made it pretty clear she’s not likely to leave my bed, much less the house, while she’s here.
I’ve got plans and most of them involve us being naked.
Still, I’ve got this nervous energy, which apparently, in the off-season presents itself in stress cleaning like a maniac.
Shelby comes over, calm as always, walks into the laundry room and comes back with a caddy of cleaners. Ah, the laundry room. Of course. She plucks the rag out of my hands. “Chill. I’ll do the kitchen. You–go sit down and maybe drink a beer before you combust.”
“You don’t have to clean, Shelby. I can do it.”
“Jefferson, Ingrid Flockton is coming to our house.” She snorts like I’m the crazy one. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you be the one responsible for making this place presentable?”
Shelby’s turned into a bit of a house mom since she moved in two months ago. Axel told her not to baby us, but it’s what she likes to do. And she’s right. I’m acting like a lunatic.
I grab a beer from the refrigerator, twist off the top, and sink into the couch cushions. Reid, Axel, and Nadia are all staring at me.
“What?” I ask gruffly.
“Is this really happening?” Reid finally says.
“Is what happening?”
“You. Having a serious relationship. Or at the very least a more-than-a-one-night-standship?”
I rake my hand through my hair, frustration buzzing under my skin. “Fuck if I know.”
Because honestly–maybe this was a bad idea. Am I even ready for this? I’m about to head into the NHL. She’s a megastar. Sure, we like each other. Sure, our bodies are ridiculously in tune. And god, yes, I want nothing more than to get my hands on her the second she steps through that door.
But having her here? In this house I share with three guys and… sort of one girl? That’s what feels insane. That makes it real. There’s no hotel sheets. No concert as a buffer. Just me, her, and my life.
“Leave him alone,” Shelby says, spraying some kind of foam all over the island. “This is new for him.”
“Thanks, Shel,” I give her a grin before turning back to the others and glaring at them.
Nadia lifts her chin, dark eyes sharp. “Look, I know better than anyone that it’s a big deal for athletes, and hockey players in particular, to be complete sluts and non-committal.
” Her gaze slides deliberately to Axel, who smirks without shame.
He’d been a legendary player long before she tamed him.
“But what’s the big deal? Do you just want to keep sleeping around forever? ”
I shake my head because that’s not it. I haven’t hooked up with anyone else since Ingrid and I met.
I don’t want anyone else. Not in the slightest. “I’m just not into the idea,” I mutter, taking a swig from my beer.
The carbonation burns down my throat but does nothing to settle the nerves coiling in my gut.
Reid leans forward, elbows on his knees, grinning like an asshole. “He’s afraid settling down will make him boring or something.”
Bastard. That’s what I get for confiding in him.
“Is that really it?” Nadia asks, eyes narrowing at me like she’s trying to peel me open.
“No,” I shoot back too fast. But then I sigh, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. Kind of.”
“What kind of bullshit is that?” Axel finally speaks, shaking his head.
I scrub a hand down my face, trying to find words for the thing that’s always sat in the back of my mind.
“My parents have been together for almost thirty years. Thirty. Obviously something made them fall in love, but now? They’ve got nothing in common.
Zero things. My mom’s this wild, free-spirited artist–oil paints everywhere, canvases stacked in the garage, paint under her nails.
And my dad? He runs his own tech company.
The guy speaks in code and algorithms. They don’t fight, they don’t even dislike each other, they just…
don’t connect. Not anymore.” I glance down at the bottle in my hand, rolling it between my palms. “The thought of settling down with someone forever, then growing apart until you’re just two people in the same house, bored out of your minds? That freaks me the fuck out.”
Reid leans back, shaking his head like I’m the dumbest guy alive. “You’re overthinking it, man. You don’t go into a relationship planning for it to crash and burn. You go in because you want it, because it feels good right now. That’s it. Then you see where it goes from there.”
“Spoken like a guy who’s a serial monogamist and whose most recent relationship is two months old,” I shoot back.
Reid’s grin only widens. “Two months, six months, two years–doesn’t matter, dude. At least I’m not too scared to try. You’d rather sit on the bench than risk taking the shot.”
“You did not just hockey metaphor me.”
Axel snorts, but Reid has zero fucks to give, and just shrugs. “Coach rubbed off on me.”
Nadia crosses her legs, looking thoughtful.
“Jefferson, you’re acting like love is this math equation you can screw up if the numbers don’t match.
People change. Interests change. That doesn’t mean the relationship has to die.
” She tips her head toward Axel, who’s lounging with one arm draped along the back of the couch.
“Especially when the sex is good.” Her eyes meet mine.
“It’s good, isn’t it? Ingrid Flockton is amazing in bed, isn’t she. ”
“You’re a lunatic,” I tell her, but fuck yes, she’s good in bed. And out of bed. And everywhere all at once.
“She’s right,” Axel says, combing his fingers through his hair. “You’re building this whole hypothetical future in your head when the truth is, it’s simple: if you want her, you make it work. Period. You don’t worry about what might happen twenty years down the road.”
“Yeah, but what if it doesn’t–” I start, but Shelby cuts me off, her voice sharp from across the kitchen.
“What if, what if, what if. Jesus, Jefferson. What if the plane crashes on the way here? What if you tear your ACL in practice tomorrow? You can ‘what if’ yourself to death. Or,” she slams a rag onto the counter for emphasis, “you can actually enjoy the fact that someone incredible wants to spend time with you.”
I stare at her, jaw tight. They’re all ganging up on me, and worse, they’re not wrong. I’ve always told myself I love the thrill of the chase. The competition of locking down a hot chick with one look. Chasing Ingrid had been amazing, but keeping her? That could be even better.
“See how the weekend goes,” Shelby continues, bracing her hip against the counter. “If she’s still interested in you once she sees you here–in your natural habitat–that’s the real test. Because she may take one look at that disaster of a room upstairs and run like hell.”
“Shit.” My stomach drops. My room. Total trainwreck. I shoot up from the couch. “I need to take care of that.”
“He’s so whipped,” Axel says under his breath.
“Shut it,” I say, dunking his head as I pass, heading for the stairs.
“Change your sheets!” Shelbly shouts.
“And clean the bathroom!” Nadia adds, wrinkling her nose. “Seriously, you guys are pigs.”
The last thing I see before disappearing onto the second floor is Axel tugging Nadia into his side, grinning down at her with zero shame.
“But I’m your pig,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Then he glances up at me. “If a disaster like me can make it work, Parks, maybe you and your angel have a shot too.”
Angel? I stop. “You’ve been eavesdropping on me?”
“Paperthin walls, brother,” he winks, making it clear he’s heard me and Ingrid in the middle of some of our late night calls.
I’ll have to kick his ass later, but if he’s right, maybe I won’t.
Maybe I am getting ahead of myself. This entire weekend could be a disaster and whatever future Ingrid and I have together will be over before it really starts.
Or, I step into my room and start ripping off the sheets, maybe it’s exactly what I need to prove to myself that I’m not afraid of something real.
The house is unnaturally quiet. Clean. Shelby really went all in–lemon scent in the air instead of the usual stench of stale beer and gym bags. I’d kicked everyone out hours ago and told them they could come back later. Maybe. Depending on how this went.
Ingrid steps just inside the door, glancing around. “This is…”
My chest seizes. “What?”
Her lips twitch. “Not what I expected.”
Panic spikes, and I start rambling before I can stop myself.
“College housing is, you know, kind of take what you can get. The Manor’s the biggest house in the area.
It’s called Shotgun because it was part of the old mill that used to be here.
Most of the houses are shotgun-style, long and narrow, but this one was the owner’s place.
At some point the hockey players got an in and we’ve kept it that way for years… ”
I trail off when she looks up at me, eyes sparkling with barely-contained laughter.
“I’m rambling,” I mutter.
“It’s cute,” she says softly.