Chapter 30 Sean
The weight room at the minor league training facility was practically empty at this hour, just a few dedicated souls getting in extra work before the day officially began. I focused on my form as I completed another set of shoulder stabilization exercises, the familiar burn a reminder of how far I'd come since my injury.
"Looking good, Sean," the team's strength coach commented as he passed. "But don't push it too hard. We've got a full team workout this afternoon."
"Just finishing up," I assured him, setting the resistance band aside. "Want to be fresh for tonight."
Tonight. The thought sent a flutter of anticipation through my stomach that had everything to do with Lucas finally, officially moving in. We'd seen each other regularly throughout the summer—me at the development camp that had turned into a spot on the farm team, him at his internship with the Tribune—but with our respective temporary housing situations, we'd been living separately for the past two months.
That ended today. Our new apartment awaited, a modest one-bedroom halfway between the rink and the city's media district where Lucas had managed to parlay his internship into a part-time position while he completed his degree remotely.
I showered and changed quickly after finishing my workout, eager to get to the apartment and start setting up before Lucas arrived with the last of his things. My phone buzzed as I was leaving the facility, a text from Lucas lighting up the screen: Just finished packing the last box. Heading to the apartment now. Bringing lunch!
I smiled, typing back a quick response: On my way. Don't start unpacking without me!
The drive to our new place took barely twenty minutes, the late August sun warm through the car windows as I navigated the now-familiar streets of a city that was starting to feel like home. I'd been fortunate with the development camp—impressing enough of the right people to earn a contract offer with the organization's AHL affiliate. It wasn't the NHL, not yet, but it was a legitimate start to a professional career, a foot in the door that could lead to greater opportunities.
And Lucas—brilliant, supportive, ambitious Lucas—had rearranged his entire senior year to make it work. A combination of online courses, independent studies, and weekly video conferences with his professors allowed him to maintain his status as a full-time student while living in Boston. He'd even managed to retain his position as Editor-in-Chief of the campus newspaper, running the operation remotely with occasional trips back to campus for important meetings.
It wasn't the traditional path, but it was ours. And today marked the official beginning of our life together beyond the confines of college.
I arrived at the apartment building with a box of my own possessions—mostly hockey memorabilia and clothes—balanced precariously in one arm as I fumbled for my keys. Before I could locate them, the door swung open to reveal Lucas, his hair slightly disheveled and a broad smile on his face.
"Welcome home," he announced, stepping aside to let me in. "My home is your home. Literally, since we're both on the lease now."
"Smooth," I laughed, setting down my box to kiss him properly. "How long have you been waiting to use that line?"
"Since we signed the paperwork," Lucas admitted shamelessly. "I've been practicing it in the mirror."
"Dork," I said fondly, following him into the apartment.
The space was still cluttered with half-unpacked boxes, but the basic furniture we'd acquired over the past few weeks was in place—a secondhand couch that was surprisingly comfortable, a coffee table we'd found at a yard sale, a dining set gifted by my grandmother who insisted we "needed somewhere proper to eat meals."
"I hung the bulletin board," Lucas pointed out, leading me to the wall opposite the couch where he'd mounted a large cork surface. "Started setting it up with a few essentials."
The "essentials" turned out to be a carefully curated collection of photographs: our championship win with me holding the trophy aloft; a group picture from graduation day with Nate, Zach, Ava, and several other friends; a selfie of us at a Red Sox game we'd attended earlier in the summer; and one of my favorites—me with my arm around Lucas as he proudly displayed a certificate from his internship recognition ceremony.
"Our life in pictures," I observed, warmth spreading through my chest at the visual representation of our journey together.
"So far," Lucas corrected, his hand finding mine. "Plenty more to come."
We spent the next few hours alternating between unpacking and eating the lunch Lucas had brought—pizza from the place around the corner that had quickly become our favorite during our separate visits to scope out the apartment.
"I found your Team USA jersey from juniors," Lucas called from one of the boxes he was unpacking in the bedroom. "Where do you want it?"
"Closet is fine," I replied, carefully arranging my collection of pucks on a shelf in the living room. "Though if you want to wear it sometime, I wouldn't object. It would look good on you."
"I'll keep that in mind for when it gets colder," Lucas answered, reappearing with another box labeled 'kitchen' in his neat handwriting. "Though I'm pretty sure it would hit me at mid-thigh. You forget our height difference sometimes."
"I'm perfectly aware of our height difference," I countered, moving to help him with the box. "It's one of my favorite things about you."
"That I'm shorter than you?"
"That you fit perfectly under my chin when I hug you," I clarified, demonstrating by pulling him against my chest. "See? Perfect."
Lucas laughed against my collarbone, his arms circling my waist. "You're such a sap. No one who's seen you body-check an opponent would believe how mushy you are in private."
"Our secret," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Can't have it getting out that I'm actually a softie. Would ruin my intimidation factor on the ice."
Our unpacking was interrupted by the FaceTime ringtone on Lucas's phone, Zach's name flashing on the screen.
"Right on time," Lucas grinned, grabbing his phone from the counter. "I told them we'd call around five, but of course they couldn't wait."
He accepted the call, and Zach and Nate's faces appeared on the screen, crowded together to fit in the frame.
"There they are!" Zach announced loudly. "The domestic bliss twins! How's the love nest coming along?"
"It's an apartment, not a love nest," I corrected, moving to stand behind Lucas so we'd both be visible. "And it's coming along fine, thanks for asking."
"Ignore him," Nate advised. "He's just jealous because our place is still a disaster zone."
"It's an organized disaster," Zach protested. "I know where everything is."
"You thought your skates were in the oven yesterday."
"I was keeping them warm!"
"Guys," Lucas interrupted, clearly amused by their bickering. "We didn't answer so you could continue whatever argument you were having before you called."
"Sorry, sorry," Nate said, not looking particularly apologetic. "We want the full tour. Show us the new digs."
Lucas obediently flipped the camera, panning slowly around the apartment while providing commentary on our various furnishings and decorating choices. Zach and Nate offered their opinions freely, ranging from genuinely complimentary to hilariously critical.
"Those curtains are tragic," Nate declared when the camera reached our living room window. "Please tell me those are temporary."
"They're from my grandmother," I called from off-camera. "She made them herself."
"And they're beautiful," Nate amended smoothly. "So unique and textured."
"Nice save," Lucas muttered, turning the camera back to our faces. "Anyway, that's pretty much it. Small but functional, and the location is perfect for both of us."
"When are you coming to visit?" Zach demanded. "We need to christen this place properly with a housewarming party."
"Don't you have classes to attend?" I pointed out. "Being a student and all?"
"Details," Zach waved dismissively. "We can make a weekend of it. Road trip down, party at your place, drive back Sunday."
"Actually," Nate interjected, "I have news about that. I got that photography gig with the Herald! The one I interviewed for last month."
"Nate, that's fantastic!" Lucas exclaimed, genuine excitement in his voice. "When do you start?"
"Two weeks," Nate replied, obvious pride in his expression. "Which means I'm moving to Boston too. Zach's coming with me."
This was news to me, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Seriously? What about your coaching certification?"
"Transferring to a program here," Zach explained. "Turns out they have hockey in Boston too. Who knew?"
The conversation continued, plans being made for their impending move and promises to help them find an apartment in our neighborhood if possible. When we finally ended the call, it was with a warm sense of continuity—our college friendships extending beyond graduation, adapting to new circumstances rather than fading with distance.
"That's amazing news," Lucas said as he set his phone aside. "Having them here will make this feel even more like home."
"Agreed," I nodded, though I couldn't help adding, "though I hope they don't live too close. I love them, but I also value my sanity."
Lucas laughed, returning to the box he'd been unpacking before the call. "At the very least, it'll be entertaining. I've never seen two people more perfectly matched in their ability to drive each other crazy in the best possible way."
"Speaking of people driving each other crazy," I said, wrapping my arms around him from behind, "should we call your mom next? Or my grandma?"
"Let's do Rose first," Lucas suggested. "She'll never forgive us if we call my mom before her. She's very invested in our domestic arrangements."
As predicted, my grandmother was delighted by our video call, insisting on a tour of each room and offering strong opinions about where furniture should be placed and what color we should paint the bathroom. "Not that awful beige, dear. It looks like sad oatmeal."
"And you've hung the curtains I sent?" she asked, peering through the screen as if she could see around corners.
"Front and center in the living room," I confirmed. "They're perfect, Grandma. Thank you again."
"Good, good," she nodded, satisfied. "Now, Lucas, dear, are you making sure he eats properly? Not just those awful protein shakes and chicken breasts. A growing boy needs variety."
"I'm twenty-two, Grandma," I pointed out. "I think I'm done growing."
"Hush, you," she waved dismissively. "Lucas, you'll keep an eye on him?"
"Absolutely," Lucas assured her solemnly. "I've been introducing vegetables into his diet slowly. He almost didn't complain about the Brussels sprouts last week."
"I maintain they're just tiny, bitter cabbages masquerading as a legitimate side dish," I muttered, earning a pinch from Lucas and a laugh from my grandmother.
By the time we finished our calls—Lucas's mother was equally delighted by the apartment tour, though less opinionated about our decorating choices—night had fallen, the city lights visible through our windows as we continued unpacking.
I uncovered an old playlist on my phone, the same one we'd listened to on that team bus ride so many months ago, and set it to play softly in the background as we worked. Box by box, the apartment transformed from a collection of disparate items into our home, each object finding its place in our shared space.
The championship trophy took pride of place on a shelf in the living room, something I'd initially been hesitant about displaying so prominently.
"It's yours," I'd protested when Lucas insisted it should be front and center. "You earned it."
"We earned it," Lucas had corrected firmly. "That goal doesn't happen without your deflection. It's a team trophy, remember? And we're a team."
It was hard to argue with that logic, especially when he looked at me with those earnest eyes that still made my heart skip a beat.
Now, as I set up the last of my hockey gear in the designated corner of our bedroom—a compromise we'd reached during the apartment hunting process—I felt a profound sense of contentment settle over me. This place, with its modest square footage and second-hand furniture, already felt more like home than anywhere I'd lived since leaving my grandmother's house for college.
When I returned to the living room, I found Lucas on the couch, a tired but satisfied expression on his face as he surveyed our evening's work.
"I think we did pretty well," he commented as I dropped down beside him. "I mean, we still have about a dozen boxes to unpack, but the essentials are done."
"The essentials being the TV, the bed, and the coffee maker," I clarified.
"Exactly. A man of priorities."
I pulled him into my arms, arranging us so his back was against my chest, my chin resting comfortably on top of his head. "Thank you," I said softly, feeling the simple words were inadequate for what I was trying to express.
"For helping you unpack?" Lucas asked, though I suspected he knew what I really meant.
"For everything," I clarified anyway. "For making this place feel like home already. For being willing to rearrange your entire senior year so we could be together. For believing in me when I wasn't sure I believed in myself."
Lucas turned in my arms to face me, his expression serious despite the smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'd say 'you're welcome,' but it feels wrong since I've gotten as much out of this as you have. More, probably."
"Doubtful," I argued lightly. "I'm clearly the lucky one in this relationship."
"We could debate that all night," Lucas yawned, the long day of moving and unpacking clearly catching up with him. "Or we could go christen our new bed with a solid eight hours of uninterrupted sleep."
"Such a romantic," I laughed, standing and pulling him up with me. "But sleep does sound pretty appealing right now. We’ll finish unpacking tomorrow."
As we prepared for bed in our new bathroom—navigating the unfamiliar space with only minor elbow bumping—I found myself repeatedly catching Lucas's eye in the mirror, both of us smiling like we shared some wonderful secret.
And maybe we did. The secret of how unexpected roads could lead to perfect destinations, of how the most important journeys weren't about places but about people. Of how a chance assignment to cover the hockey team had somehow resulted in this—a home, a partnership, a future unfolding with all its uncertainties and possibilities.