Chapter 3
THEO
“Uh, am I at the right house?” Rowan asked, standing two feet away from Theo like this entire thing was completely normal.
Theo had groaned when he received the push notification alerting him to Rowan’s signing.
He sighed when he saw him for the first time in the locker room during camp.
He rolled his eyes when his mom asked about Rowan when they had their weekly phone call.
He’d had enough of Rowan Foley, thank you very much.
“Yes, you’re at the right house,” Vic said, his hand clamping down on Theo’s shoulder. He tugged Theo out of the way and waved Rowan into the foyer.
“What do you mean, he’s at the right house?” Theo asked. Rowan had a duffel over his shoulder. Theo heard he was staying at a hotel.
“I invited him to stay until he finds a place to land. You can’t expect this guy to stay in a hotel room. Not during the season.”
“We can’t?”
“Uhh, I can go,” Rowan said, his little rat face pinched and unsure.
“You’re not going. Laney, have some fucking manners,” Vic said, giving Theo a warning look.
They had talked about Rowan, and Theo had dismissed him, saying that sure, they were friends as kids, but it hadn’t lasted when Mr. Perfect here became a superstar.
Theo hadn’t gotten into the nitty-gritty with him, but if admitting they had bad blood was what it took for Vic to not invite Rowan into their home, then he should have given him every detail.
“Welcome to our home,” Theo deadpanned.
“He’ll be nice tomorrow, I promise,” Vic said, pushing Theo out of their way as he led Rowan down the hall to the first-floor guest room.
It was the one guys usually crashed in if they were over and drank too much to drive home.
The guest room upstairs next to Theo’s room was the one visiting family members stayed in.
Rowan looked the same as he had looked the entire preseason—blank faced, expressionless.
He hadn’t been that way when he was a teenager, but somewhere along the way in the eight years since he’d been drafted by the Texas Victory, he’d started keeping his features schooled. Not that Theo had been keeping track.
He grabbed his water bottle and headed upstairs. Even though the game they had played that night was a preseason game, it still had tired him out. He knew from experience that it was all downhill from here, the exhaustion compounding as they progressed through eighty-two games.
He climbed into bed and turned the TV on, letting it play whatever the last channel he watched had on.
It was golf. The announcers’ voices were soothing, and Theo was on the edge of sleep when someone knocked on his door.
He didn’t have a chance to respond before Vic was entering, his hand over his eyes.
“If you’re jerking it, you better stop for a minute.”
“I’m not jerking off, Jesus.”
Vic dropped his hand and took stock of Theo in bed, golf on TV. He shrugged. “Guys have jerked it to weirder stuff than this.”
“What do you want, Kowski?”
“What was going on down there with Foley?”
“He’s not actually staying here, is he? Does he have a place lined up yet?”
“He’s staying here because I invited him. Because this is my house.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“It is real fucking weird to see you with an attitude. Obviously, you two have some kind of history I don’t know about.
But we need Foley. We could win with him.
And that means I want him to be comfortable, and happy, and rested.
I want him to be able to make whatever kind of superfood smoothie he needs, and have a tub to soak in.
Whatever this kid wants, I need to make sure he gets.
And that means you need to be fucking nice to him, alright?
Cut the bullshit. You know this year we have our eyes on the prize. ”
Vic was Theo’s best friend. When Theo was traded here two years ago, Vic had taken him in, just like he was doing for Rowan. And when Vic’s wife left, Theo was there for him. They had each other’s backs.
Plus, Theo wanted the fucking Cup as much as any guy in the league did.
“Fine. I’ll be nice.”
“Good. And if you want to talk about whatever...” he said, waving his hand vaguely between Theo and the general direction of Rowan’s guest room.
“I don’t.”
“Alright, bud. I love you. Get some sleep. This is our year.”
“Love you too, Dad,” he said, just to get a rise out of Vic.
“Fuck off,” he said, closing the door behind him.
The thought of Rowan being in the same house as him was unsettling. If they were still seventeen, they wouldn’t just be in the same house, they would have been in the same bed, under the same covers, and Rowan would have been kissing him like they were the last two people on earth.
They had clung desperately to each other when they were playing major junior.
They were two halves of a whole. Together, they set point records for the Flint Jaguars.
They took interviews together, spent summer vacation together, and talked about their futures together.
Abstractly, they knew it was unlikely they would get drafted to the same team, but they were kids with a dream, and it honestly hadn’t occurred to them to consider the fact that the beginning of their NHL careers would be the end of their friendship.
At least, it hadn’t occurred to Theo.
Rowan was drafted first overall to the Texas Victory, was signed to a contract immediately, and made the team right out of camp his first year.
Theo was drafted fifth overall, and the fall after his draft, he reported back to the Jags.
And then the year after that as well. When he finally aged out of the OHL, he had two impressive seasons in the AHL that didn’t materialize into sustained call-ups.
His path to the show wasn’t as direct as Rowan’s.
And no one ever let him forget it, least of all Rowan.
Rowan had left Theo behind to captain his old team as rumors flew throughout his rookie year that Rowan would be the next captain of the Victory.
Theo was still a kid, and Rowan had left him behind to go become a man. Rowan had left him with a meager OHL weekly stipend and a cracked-open heart. And Rowan had been unaffected. He had been successful.
Fuck that guy. Theo could be nice to him for Vic’s sake (or, he would at least not be as openly hostile as he wanted to be) but they would not be friends.