Chapter 8 Reid
Chapter eight
Reid
“I’m home,” I call as I drop my keys into the bowl by the door.
Benji made it in middle school, and Mom acted like it was the best gift she’d ever received.
It’s misshapen and lumpy, but carved around the edges are five stick figures, one for each of us, and in the bowl itself he inscribed the word “family,” so I can sort of see why.
“Yo, Dad Bro, you got something you want to tell us?” David calls from the kitchen.
“Nothing much has changed since I left this morning,” I call back.
“Are you sure about that?” Benji asks, and when I get to the kitchen, I find them both sitting at the island eating giant bowls of cereal, and in front of them sits a bouquet of the brightest sunflowers I have ever seen.
“Who got flowers?” I ask.
“You,” Benji replies, reaching up and plucking a small white envelope from between the blooms. “So again we ask, do you have something—or someone, maybe—you want to tell us about?”
“I’d tell you if I started dating,” I explain, as I run my fingers lightly over the front of the card where my name is written in cursive. I guess that rules out these being dropped at the wrong address.
“Would you, though?” David asks. “You said you wouldn’t date until you retired, but here we are with a big bunch of flowers that screams something totally different.”
“They’re flowers, they don’t scream anything,” I reply, my fingers brushing over the soft petals, a smile teasing at my lips.
I can’t remember the last time there were fresh flowers in this house.
Wait. Yes I can. It would have been when Mom and Dad passed.
I never understood why people send flowers after someone dies.
I mean, like someone who just buried a loved one wants another thing they get to watch die.
But these are nothing like those flowers.
These are bright and happy, and I can’t help but smile seeing them sitting on my kitchen bench.
“Who are they from?” Benji asks, and I open the small white card and pause.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “The card is just signed L.”
“Come on, you have to know who sent them. Are you sure you didn’t accidentally start dating? Maybe you did it in your sleep, like sleepwalking. Did you sleep swipe right?” Benji asks, and I laugh.
“I’m not dating anyone.”
“Then who sent you flowers and what are they thanking you for if not a great night out?” Benji asks, and I turn toward him.
“How do you know the card says thank you?”
He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, the blush rising on his cheeks.
“Okay, so we might have looked at the card. You were taking forever to get home. Come on, who’s L?”
“I really have no idea,” I say, spinning the vase as I walk around the island to the other side.
While they can indulge in cereal for lunch, I need to keep to my plan, so I grab one of the premade chicken bowls from the refrigerator.
It’s grilled chicken, brown rice, and veggies.
Not exactly appetizing, but the heaped spoon of salsa I dump on top, along with some guac, is enough to turn the bland bowl into something my shithead brothers both reach over to try to pick at.
“I made extras, get your own,” I say, pulling my bowl away just in time, and both rush around the island, fighting to be first to the fridge.
Neither one of them ever assume I’ve made extras of my pre-planned meals, even though I always do.
It’s automatic now, like changing the station within a few bars of Mom’s favorite song when David’s in the car, or bringing home a puck for Benji from every away game.
He’s got them stacked up in an impressive geometric diamond-patterned tower on one wall of his room.
It’s one of the many things I’ll miss when they move out, and I’m quietly dreading the day that I truly will be alone.
“So, figured it out yet?” Benji asks through a mouthful of chicken and rice.
“Since the last time you asked thirty seconds ago? No.”
Brothers.
***
I’m lacing my skates when Luka comes over to me, a wide, dimpled smile on his lips.
“So, I realized after I sent them that it could be weird, but I wanted to say thanks and flowers seemed like the best way to do that.”
It was Luka. L was Luka. How didn’t I think it would be him?
Probably because he and I have basically flicked back and forth from friendly to fiery since the day he walked into the locker room.
True, my initial reaction was more of an overreaction.
He walked in all smiles and excitement and joy, and I found myself mesmerized by it.
It was almost like he moved in slow motion through the locker room, gliding through it like a dancing ray of sunshine.
Now here I am doing it again, only this time I won’t look away.
“They were . . . a really nice surprise. Thanks.”
“So you liked them?”
“Yeah, they actually brightened up the house. My brothers thought so too.”
“Oh, right, David and Benjamin, right?”
“Benji, yeah, how’d you know that?”
He links his hands behind his back, and it’s adorable.
“I might have been a fan of yours growing up,” he says, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.
“Way to make me feel old,” I joke, and his eyes go wide.
“Shit, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I was in high school, not like a kid kid.”
“Relax, rook, I’m just messing with you,” I chuckle.
Coach Dennings walks past the doorway.
“Hurry up, boys, we’ve got a game to get ready for.”
“I’ll see you out there,” Luka says, heading for the door.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“Is that a promise?” he asks, glancing back at me over his shoulder, and my mind flashes the fantasy image of him glancing back at me while I hold his hard, naked body against mine.
He’s gone before I find my voice again, but now I’ve got to go warm up with a semi.
***
From the moment the first puck drops, it’s like Luka and I are completely in sync. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to teach him has finally gotten through, and he’s doing his job out here, which makes doing mine all that much easier.
New York dumped the puck behind our net.
I collect it and quickly send a pass along the boards where Luka is perfectly positioned.
He chips it out of the zone, starting a rush up the ice, and it’s like we’ve been playing together for years.
It’s not just that I can see where he is; I can feel him out here.
White passes across to Luka, and as he moves up, I position myself behind him, anticipating his next move, so when he drops the puck back, I’m ready and fire off a shot from the point right into the back of the net.
I pump my fist in the air, then point to Luka with an approving nod. That goal is as much his as it is mine. The kid has skills, that’s for sure.
We’re tied up in the last few minutes of the third. Luka gets the puck, he’s on a rush up the ice, but when he passes the New York defenseman, they bring up their stick and hook Luka’s arm, spinning him around and losing him the puck.
“Hey!” I call as the ref’s arm goes up, and the second their center touches the puck, the ref blows his whistle.
“Two minutes for hooking,” he calls, and I look up at the clock.
There’s only just over a minute left in this game.
Looks like New York will be finishing things a man down, and their D is pissed.
He tosses his helmet into the penalty box, punishing his gloved hand on the Perspex before sitting and dropping his head in his hands.
This is our shot at our first win of the season.
“Run the umbrella,” I tell the guys as they move into position, and when I get the puck, I send off a pass to Luka on my left.
My heart is pounding, the clock ticking down, but we’ve got this.
We’ve run it a hundred times. Luka knows what he needs to do.
Thankfully, he follows the play and snaps it back to me.
I fake a shot and dish to Kirkston on my right for a one-timer through a net-front screen. The horn sounds.
Luka hugs Kirkston, both of them raising their sticks in the air in celebration. We move back up the ice to reset. Our goal ended the penalty early, so it looks like New York won’t finish with four after all. The clock is still ticking down.
“No risky passes, make the smart play,” I call, glancing briefly at each of them before the puck drops.
White gets it first and sends it to Kirkston, who is shoved up against the wall.
The puck is turned over to New York. They send it along the boards to a waiting winger.
Luka immediately gets to him, fighting for the puck, and I move in front of Colt in our net.
When their winger goes for a cross-ice pass, I’m ready, scooping the puck and shooting it as hard as I can up the ice.
It’s right on target for the net, but slowing.
The final buzzer sounds just as their goalie collects it, ending the game with a final score of five to four. We’ve won.
Luka smashes into my side, and his strong arms wrap around my chest.
“Fuck yeah!” he cheers as I’m hit from behind by someone else, but I can’t tell who because my mind is focused on where Luka’s body touches mine.
The entire team rushes onto the ice as the crowd goes wild.
Colt high-fives his besties, Tom and Jerry, being the left and right sides of the net.
Fucking goalies are weird. We break up, and I lead the team past Colt, giving him a high five on our way past. Colt’s practically ready to burst out of his gear, sweeping side to side in the crease as we pass, congratulating every teammate by name as they go.
Luka is last to reach Colt, having skated around the sides of the rink, with his stick in the air like a conquering nation’s flag to the cheers of the supporters in the crowd.
He’s a total show pony. Sure, he had the moves out there tonight, but I have to wonder if he’d still be this passionate if the sport didn’t come with an adoring fan base.
I guess I’ll never know, given it’s the most popular sport in the country right now.
For me, I’d be out on this ice no matter if the stands were completely empty.
It’s where I find my peace; everything makes sense out here.
Or at least it did until Luka Hart stepped foot out on the ice.
Now my senses are heightened, my pulse racing as I try to find him in every moment.
I knew this kid would be trouble. After Luka and Colt high-five, Luka gives the left and right posts a high five too, which makes Colt smile widely as he wraps an arm over his shoulder, and they head my way looking like the best of friends.
“Did you see the rook giving my boys the respect they deserve?” Colt asks as they pass.
“I did.”
Luka’s eyes find mine, his dimpled cheeks sending that familiar flutter through my gut.
“They had my back out there, just like you,” Luka says with a wink.
Okay, so he might be a little cute.