Chapter 2
two
. . .
Jake
Hi, this is Rachel Levine. Your mom told my mom you have a spare room available?
Holy fuck.
I have a text from Rachel Levine.
That’s a name I haven’t heard in… a decade? Maybe more.
I hurry to sit upright and slap myself in the face with my phone.
“You okay there, bud?” my teammate and friend, Sven Larsson, asks from the second bed of our shared hotel room.
Normally, veterans don’t have to share hotel rooms, but since he started dating our team’s Logistics coordinator, Coach has been putting him in a room with someone else to discourage fraternization . Despite the fact their relationship is officially declared with HR and management.
Me, I’m that weirdo that volunteered for it. I don’t like to stay in hotel rooms by myself. It gets too lonely, and then I get self-destructive, and frankly, it’s better for all of us if I’m not left to my own devices.
“Fuck off,” I mutter in our own twisted love language, and he smirks at me.
I turn my attention back to my phone.
Rachel Levine.
Fuck.
I can’t even be upset at my mother giving out my phone number again . This time, it doesn’t seem like she’s matchmaking, merely offering up my spare room now that Jeremy moved out.
Although…
Rachel was the source of my sexual awakening. It was a little awkward at the time, considering she was dating my older brother Josh, but hey, I was always stealing his toys as the shit-stirring youngest brother—is it really too much of a stretch for me to want his girl, too?
Also, he treated her like shit. Always ignoring her, canceling plans last minute to hang with his other friends, generally being a teenage dirtbag.
I was too young to do anything about it back then.
Hi, yes, my roommate moved out and I have an empty room, I text back. Calling Jeremy my roommate is a little less pathetic than saying “my big brother” in this context. I’m out of town but get back on Thursday. Do you want to come see the place?
What’s the rent?
Hm.
“Hey, asshole,” I say out loud, and Sven looks up. I snicker because he actually answered to that. “What’s the going price for rent these days?”
“Fuck if I know,” he shrugs. “Want me to ask Van?”
“Would you?”
His girlfriend, Vanessa, works for the team in the Logistics department. She’s fucking awesome. She travels about half-time with the team, and this road trip is one she’s back in the office for. Something about planning the team’s annual holiday season activities.
A few minutes later, Sven names a number, and I text it back to Rachel.
Are you fucking with me ?
No?
Every apartment I’ve seen is, like, twice that.
It’s a really shitty apartment, I lie.
I’ll take it.
You haven’t even seen the room yet.
For that price? I can’t not take it.
That doesn’t make me feel good. That makes me feel decidedly not good.
I’m desperate , she adds. Even if it’s just for a month or two, I really appreciate it.
You got it! I text her the address. Meet me Thursday anytime after 2.
That’ll give me enough time to clean up after morning skate.
There’s a giddiness in my heart when she confirms the date and time. An itchy restlessness in my bones. I can’t sit here in my hotel room bed and pretend like this isn’t the best fucking thing to happen to me in weeks—no, months.
Sven looks over at me suspiciously. “What’s wrong with your face?”
“Nothing. What’s wrong with your face?” I counter.
He frowns. “You look weird.”
“I need to get out of here.” I don’t know where I’m going to go, just that I can’t stay here.
Swiping my hotel key card off the nightstand, I slide on my sandals and go walking through the hallways. I’m not about to leave the property—management would have my head—and I don’t want to head to the bar. It’s no surprise when I end up in the rinky-dink little gym. There are two treadmills, two recumbent bikes, and a weight bench that’s seen better days.
I’m not properly warmed up, plus I’m scheduled to start in the game tomorrow evening, so I keep to a brisk pace as I walk and walk and walk.
Rachel Levine.
Do I want a roommate? Not really. When Jeremy needed a place to stay for a few months between jobs, I didn’t mind when he moved in. I’d just signed my big contract extension and was feeling the post-signing letdown. The crush of everyone’s expectations could have gotten me into a bad place.
Luckily, my brother was there to help pump me up on the bad nights, and now two years later, I’m a bona fide starting goaltender rather than part of an A/B tendy tandem. Henry, my backup goaltender, is a good guy, but he’s still green.
Jer stayed for longer than either of us expected. It was kind of nice having my brother around. Josh would have been a massive dick to live with, mainly because he’s a massive dick in all other aspects of his life. He’s still pissed our parents decided to have two more children after he was born. It’s like, dude, get over it. Jeremy is twenty-nine and I’m twenty-six. It’s not like they’re suddenly going to change their minds about having us as part of the family.
I wonder if this will make things more awkward with us, then immediately dismiss the thought. It’s not like I talk to my brother all that much to begin with. He dated Rachel for a hot minute in high school. He’s a grown ass adult now. If he’s still pining after his high school girlfriend more than fifteen years later, he has bigger problems than my lending her a spare room.
And if she’s my roommate, I can’t ask her out. Not that I know anything about her as an adult. She could be a heinous bitch who talks down to everyone.
No. The Rachel Levine I knew back then was kind and sweet—not to mention hot as fuck. I consider looking up her social media, but that feels like an invasion of privacy. I don’t post much on my “official” account, mainly using it to message with the boys and send memes to Jer.
Some guys use social media to hook up, but one, it’s hard to gauge chemistry online, and two, I don’t necessarily want a trail of evidence of all the women in my past. Most of the women I take home, I meet at the bar after a game. It might be boring and predictable, but it works for a reason.
And let me just say, there’s nothing to draw some attention like a crowd of hyped-up, post-game hockey players in suits. Thank goodness the league forces us to wear the suits pre- and post-game.
I wonder if Rachel would ever come to a game. Maybe I could even convince her to come to the bar after, too. And then we’d go home together, to the apartment that we’ll be sharing…
I shiver in anticipation. Yes. This. I like this.
I can’t sleep with her, I wouldn’t ever do anything to make her uncomfortable while she’s staying in my house, but even if it only lasts for a little while, it will be nice to have someone to go home with.
Someone to come home to.