Chapter Twelve
Hilde Gustafsson: Tom Crowler’s house is so nice! I didn’t think it would be so cozy!
Cheryl Vanderbilt: Check out the garden. It’s huge!
Hilde Gustafsson: Team Halloween parties should be annual. No, monthly!
[She and a group of other WAGs strike a series of poses in the photobooth. They are joined by Howie in his Peter Pan costume in the last one]
Top comments:
SFCLions: It’s a nice house, but it’s missing a feminine touch. Call me to help you out, Tom!
seelionssaylions: Howie in his costume among the WAGs makes him look like a tiny baby
grant16rules: love that Tom Crowler has framed pictures of Jax Grant with his dog on the wall
(From Hilde Gustafsson’s Instagram Live reel, posted on 11/01/2025)
“Han Solo? Seriously? You are not cool enough to dress as him, Lu. Not even a little.”
Pietro pulled an overdone considering face on the tiny segment of Luca’s phone screen reserved for him in FaceTime. “I don’t know—maybe grumpy old man Han Solo from the new movies?”
“You’re both terrible,” Luca informed his siblings.
“And another thing,” Pietro said, undeterred. “You do know that in the movies, Han Solo isn’t in love with Chewbacca? Every picture from the party shows you mooning over him the way Chiara pined over Zayn Malik when she was twelve.”
“Shut up.”
As one, they gasped.
“So it’s true!” Chiara cried.
“Shut up.”
“How long have you—”
“Be quiet. He lives here, and he speaks Italian,” Luca hissed. He had overplayed his hand so intensely Chris must know how he felt, but so long as neither of them mentioned it, maybe they could keep being friends and roommates.
The shock silenced both of his siblings for a few seconds, but they never stayed quiet for long.
“Luca,” Chiara cooed. “I’ve never seen you like this! How long have you—”
“Since I moved here.”
“And you—”
“Yes, I’m sad and pathetic and totally in love with him, and he will never feel the same. He’s too good for me, all right?”
This time, the silence was more judgmental.
“I’m sorry. This is the Canadian who thinks he’s from Italy, no?” Pietro asked.
“Yes.”
“The one who thought he invented a new version of pasta carbonara when he took out the cream?”
“Yes.”
“The one who dumped a girl when he found out her family might be…you know, la familia?”
“Look, I didn’t choose this,” Luca got out through gritted teeth. “And I know it’s a bad idea. I’m trying to get over it. It’s just not easy.”
Chiara, who had always been his favorite, softened in sympathy. “Poor Luca.”
Pietro, a perpetual menace, cackled. “Oh my God, this is why you spent all summer fucking big, beefy guys! You—”
“You spent all summer doing what?” Chris asked in English from the open door of his bedroom.
“Nothing.” Luca ended the call quickly. “Why are you awake?”
It was eight in the morning, and they didn’t have to be at the rink until noon for practice. Chris liked to sleep in and emerge doe-eyed and disheveled, and Luca liked to imagine waking up next to all that.
He also liked to call his siblings on mornings off. It was close to midnight for them, but they were night owls.
“Kayleigh from PR called. She wants us to come in for a meeting.” Chris wandered over to the kitchen. His sweatpants clung to his hips so low only the magnificent swell of his ass kept them up. “Oh, dope, you got us smoothies?”
Luca got up from the couch and picked his own drink up from the counter. “I thought I would try the shop down the street.”
“Which one—the one with the awning?”
Luca nodded, although there were three smoothie shops on the block, and two of them had awnings.
The perks of living in Haight-Ashbury. He also didn’t mention how he’d forced himself out of bed at six thirty to get the drinks before calling Pietro and Chiara because he hoped he and Chris could sit down and have breakfast together.
Things had been so strained ever since the stupid Halloween party, and Luca missed hanging out.
Chris hadn’t even hugged him since then, except before games.
“Nice. That your brother on the phone?”
“And my sister.”
“So what they said about your summer—”
“Oh, Christ.” Luca buried his face in his hands. “I apologize. They have no boundaries. Forget everything you heard.”
“So you did spend your summer fucking big… What was it?”
“Beefy guys,” Luca supplied with a sigh. “Have I not embarrassed myself enough in front of you, sexually?”
“I don’t think anything we did was embarrassing.” Chris took a long sip from his smoothie.
Luca didn’t want to continue the conversation, so he took the straw into his mouth and did the same.
He’d done very well at not initiating any further sexual encounters between the two of them since Halloween to protect himself from his own feelings.
Discussing his summer of trying to fuck Chris out of his system would not help with his goal of saving their friendship.
The smoothie was surprisingly good. He’d been skeptical about pear and mint, but the combination tasted refreshing and sweet. He licked his lips when he pulled off the straw, chasing the flavor. “Why do you think Kayleigh wants to see us?”
Chris didn’t answer.
When Luca looked up, he found Chris staring right through him. “Chris?”
“Huh?”
“Kayleigh? Why are we going to see her?”
“Oh, something about a special segment for The Rookery.”
Luca grunted and returned to his smoothie.
He wasn’t sure why hockey teams needed their own streaming services.
People already didn’t watch hockey on regular TV, either because other sports were more popular or because the NHL’s baffling broadcasting decisions made it impossible.
Why they would pay more money to watch it on worse platforms eluded Luca, but it must have been somewhat profitable or Kayleigh wouldn’t keep filming little skits and behind-the-scenes footage for The Rookery.
He drained the last of the smoothie and poked his straw around for more bits of pear at the bottom, cheeks hollowing as the straw made the loud, disgusting sound of sucking in air.
“Wow. You really like smoothies, huh?” Chris’s voice sounded higher than normal. Maybe a little nasal.
“Are you getting sick?”
“Nope! I’m fine! Just fine! Let me get dressed, and we can get going.”
Luca watched the beautiful view of that ass in those sweatpants as it disappeared into Chris’s room.
He might not be letting himself take advantage anymore, but he also wasn’t blind.
Kayleigh greeted them with a bright smile and far too much energy for Luca’s taste.
He supposed he ought to be glad she was so enthusiastic about her job given he had no interest in coming up with his own ideas to promote the team on social media, but he also didn’t relish spending time with people who did.
“Guys!” she said. “The Halloween party looked so fun!
“Hah,” Chris said. “Yeah. It was great.”
He was the worst liar in the world. Fortunately, Kayleigh either couldn’t tell or didn’t care.
“And let me tell you, the pics have been making the rounds on social media all week. I’ve had two different girls hit me up on TikTok to find out if Howie is looking for a Tinkerbell.”
Luca rubbed his hand across his mouth until he could school his expression into something approaching neutral.
Howie hadn’t spoken to any of them all week following his dramatic exit from the party on Friday.
Instead, he’d spent his time at the rink with Dmitriyev and Fedorov, practicing rudimentary skills in Russian.
They had dropped two games since then, ruining their perfect record for the season.
Tomorrow would be the last day of their homestand, their second match against Chicago this year, and if they couldn’t pull out a win for the home crowd at least once, the road trip to Montreal promised to be equally miserable.
As if she read his mind, Kayleigh continued, “And between you and me, this kind of content keeps the fans happy and distracted when the team isn’t bringing home the Ws.”
Chris smiled. His dimples didn’t appear. “That’s good, then, isn’t it?”
“Oh, sure!” Kayleigh agreed, as if she couldn’t stand for either of them to think, even for an instant, that she had a different opinion.
“It’s great, and we want to keep the momentum going.
People are super into the fun friendship dynamics on the team, so we thought we could do a segment with the Italian roommates, you know? ”
Luca winced preemptively, expecting Chris to jump for joy at the thought.
Instead, Chris asked, “What content are you looking for, exactly?”
“I’m so glad you asked! People are responding to the ‘at home with the captain’ vibe at the party, you know?
Like, look, Tom Crowler’s kitchen! Oh, look, there’s Cheryl Vanderbilt taking a selfie in Tom Crowler’s living room.
It humanizes the team, and it gets people talking about real estate and design choices.
So, we want to do a little tour where you show us around your place. ”
“It is a two-bedroom apartment,” Luca pointed out in lieu of asking why he, a real, actual human, needed humanizing. “It will not make a long video.”
She waved him off. “We can show you doing whatever you usually do! Playing video games, making dinner… Do you cook?”
“I do not,” Luca was forced to admit.
“Great! Very college roommates, relatable stuff. We have a lot of young viewers and fans, they’ll see themselves in you.”
“So, you will…what…film me ordering takeout?”
“We could make it work. Do you order out a lot? From anyone we have a sponsorship with?”
“No,” Chris said. “I cook. He cleans.”
Kayleigh laughed as though he’d told a great joke. “Even better! Do you have a chore sheet or something?”
“No.” They were grown adults, and Luca would not be reverting to a level of slovenliness requiring a checklist. Was this what hockey fans were interested in watching? If so, why?
“Could you make one—for the video?” She leaned forward in her seat as though she’d asked a vital question.
“I suppose?”