Chapter 10
Hazy
Lover walked into Hazy’s house first thing in the morning, coffees in hand.
He’d visited as soon as the plane landed the previous evening, but their conversation got derailed by Livy announcing she’d quit her job.
Hazy was dying to hear how the games during the road trip had gone. The TV broadcast only told him so much.
In the kitchen, earbuds in, listening to a podcast, Livy prepared breakfast. Lover bypassed Hazy and set the drinks on the counter. Livy removed an earbud, a smile growing on her face when she faced him. “Hi!”
Lover rounded the kitchen island and gave Livy a hug.
“How is he?” Lover asked.
Hazy watched them, mouth gaping like a fish as his two best friends ignored him to greet each other. He turned off the TV and yelled across the room, “He’s right here, ask him yourself!”
Lover released Livy and pulled a cup free from the carrier before crossing the room to hand it to Hazy.
“I figured I’d get an honest answer from her. Can’t trust a word out of your mouth.”
Livy stacked toast onto a plate of eggs and brought them to Hazy, who accepted the food and, exasperated, asked Lover, “When have I ever lied to you?”
“Um, maybe the past three days when I’ve been texting you and you keep insisting you’re fine while you’re sitting bloody and broken at home bingeing on cheese crackers and reality TV.”
Lover stole a piece of toast from the top of Hazy’s plate and stuck the corner of a triangle in his mouth.
“I am fine. As fine as one can be in this situation.”
Livy took Lover’s side. “You’ve been existing on Percocet and white cheddar Cheez-Its for days. That in no way constitutes fine.”
Hazy shoved a bite of scrambled egg into his mouth and followed it up with a sip of coffee. “You guys suck. And it wasn’t even that many Cheez-Its,” he mumbled.
“If I sucked,” Lover said, “I wouldn’t have shown up at the ass-crack of dawn to issue a warning.”
Livy went back to the kitchen, and Hazy raised his voice to include her in the conversation. “Okay, well nine a.m. is not the ass-crack of dawn. But what’s your warning?”
Lover accepted a second plate of eggs and toast from Livy as he said, “The cavalry is coming.”
Cracking two more eggs into a bowl and mixing them with a fork, Livy asked, “Who is the cavalry?”
“The team,” Hazy answered.
He did a mental assessment of his body. He could tell everyone to fuck off and leave him alone if he needed to. His energy levels were depleted, but he didn’t know if he needed more human interaction or to hide himself away for a solid week.
“Like, the whole team?” Livy asked. She pushed her eggs around in the pan.
“Not the whole team,” Lover assured her.
It would be the whole team. Maybe spread throughout the day. The Freeze comprised a codependent bunch of guys. Where one went, the rest followed.
“Maybe you could call them off,” Hazy said.
Lover ran a hand through his hair. “I told them it would be too much, but they insisted. It’s our day off, and they miss you. They’re still pissed about being barred from visiting at the hospital.”
Hazy wondered about that. Besides Beanie and Lover, none of his other teammates had reached out since his injury.
“Huh, I assumed they were all just sick of me,” he said, playing his relief off as a joke.
“No,” Livy said, plating her own food. She claimed an armchair and crossed her legs. “You were only allowed a few people at a time, and since Valentine and Beanie insisted on being there all hours of the day, you didn’t have space for anyone else.”
Lover offered a sheepish shrug. “Don’t blame me; I didn’t know the rules.”
Hazy finished his food and handed his plate off to Lover, who stacked his own empty plate on top and placed the dirty dishes in the sink.
Livy piled eggs onto a piece of toast. “When will people—”
The front door opened, and Beanie called from the entryway, “Incoming!”
Panic filled Livy’s features as she glanced down at herself, still in flannel sleep shorts and a cropped band t-shirt. Her hair sat in a sloppy pile on her head. She practically teleported to the sink where she abandoned her food before taking off at a sprint toward her room.
Beanie sauntered into the room carrying three boxes of doughnuts from Hazy’s favorite bakery. He set two of the boxes on the counter and flipped the top on the third before walking over to hold it out for Hazy to choose one. He selected a pink frosted doughnut with Captain Crunch cereal on top.
It was girly as hell. He loved it.
Beanie’s nephew, Dylan, followed his uncle and flopped on the couch, scrolling.
The boy had grown so much since Hazy met him.
He had to remind himself it was normal for Dylan to ignore him.
Twelve-year-olds were difficult. Making an appearance could be considered the equivalent of him kneeling and pledging his undying loyalty.
Daisy followed her crew in and placed a quick kiss on Hazy’s head before climbing over the back of the couch, stamping the cushion next to his down with her feet, and lowering herself into a crisscross position.
“How are you today?” she asked.
Hazy shrugged one shoulder and took a bite of his doughnut. He would get so out of shape if he kept this up. He couldn’t remember the last vegetable he’d eaten.
A knock sounded at the door, and Beanie welcomed Reesy into the mix. His wife, Gwen, followed him and gave Hazy a polite wave before heading to the kitchen where she dropped the gigantic bag she held onto the counter.
Reesy’s kids gave Hazy the welcome he had craved from Dylan. At eight and five they still idolized Hazy and showed it by snuggling up to him and Daisy. He played a cartoon at a low volume to occupy them while the grownups visited.
All around him, some of his favorite people chattered away about hockey and their schedules and what the kids were doing in school.
His heart ached at the thought of losing hockey, because this would be the cost. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and soaked in the sound of his loved ones caring for him.
Gwen dug through the bag she’d brought and started filling Hazy’s cabinets and fridge with groceries.
“Gwen, you really didn’t have to do that,” Hazy said.
She waved a hand at him. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”
He blew her a kiss because he couldn’t get up to hug her. “You’re the best. Have I told you that lately?” He made a habit of telling her every time he saw her, because she proved her awesomeness on repeat.
She winked. “Not today.”
“Well, you are.”
“I know.” She returned to unpacking far too much food, then abruptly shouted, “Harland!”
Reesy, who had been sitting in an armchair next to Beanie, chatting about their next game, jumped. He whirled in his seat to face his wife. “What?”
“We’re here to help, not to yap. Come load the dishwasher.”
Her husband followed her order. All the Freeze players knew not to disobey Gwen. They’d learned early on in Reesy’s captaincy that if they did what she said their lives ran a lot smoother. She was what Hazy imagined Livy would be like as a wife and mother. Confident, caring, and taking no crap.
When Livy returned, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, her hair in a more artful topknot, she tried to shoo the Reeses out of the kitchen. Gwen stood her ground and herded Livy into the chair Reesy had vacated, handed her the plate she’d abandoned, and directed her to eat.
Gwen finished unpacking all the goodies she’d brought and booted Beanie out of the chair next to Livy.
She introduced herself and asked Livy a bunch of probing questions about Hazy’s injury that he could have answered himself.
He would have argued if the kids hadn’t started asking him questions about the TV show they watched.
His anxiety faded the more he noticed Livy relaxing with Gwen and Daisy.
Livy never socialized with the WAGs because she wasn’t around, but also because she wasn’t one.
Regardless, he wanted her to get to know his friends.
Maybe if she built friendships outside of only him, she’d stick around longer.
The Reeses and Greenes didn’t stay long because the house got crowded fast. For the next five hours, Hazy’s teammates and their partners and kids filtered in and out.
He introduced each new person to Livy, warning the single guys off hitting on her every time she left the room.
It was like they couldn’t help themselves.
Every idiot had some smart-ass flirty comment for her.
Some flew over her head. Others she clocked and either ignored or clapped back at.
Lover, surprisingly, was the worst offender.
Livy and Lover had become such fast friends, bonding over their mutual fussing.
He didn’t understand how to read the situation.
Livy was a relationship girl. The idea of her hooking up with some random guy made him nauseous.
Even if the random guy was his best friend and deserved any attention Livy bestowed upon him.
And Lover didn’t date. Or do one-night-stands. Or even hit on anyone. Hazy knew he liked women. Knew he felt attraction toward people. Lover had the desire to date, he just couldn’t execute. Livy shouldn’t be his first foray into relationships. It had the potential to destroy them both. And Hazy.
The way Lover poked fun at her and initiated light-hearted touch melted Hazy’s brain. For someone who didn’t know how to flirt, he was doing a damn good job of it.
How was the same man who got tongue-tied and turned the shade of a stop sign when a pretty girl approached him at a bar casually running his fingers up Livy’s arm and making innuendo?
On Livy’s end it made sense. She’d always given as good as she got. Whether it was flirting, or roasting, or any game of chicken, she’d always outdo her opponent.
His curiosity was killing him, but he didn’t want to make assumptions or cause Livy and Lover to be uncomfortable with each other. He figured if anything happened between the two of them, they would tell him.