73. Grant
SEVENTY-THREE
GRANT
MARCH, ONE SEASON AGO
Me
I have a team dinner tonight. Can I see you after?
AG
Yes please!
Me
Use your key and come by whenever.
AG
Maybe I’ll send you a picture that will motivate you to get home faster.
Me
Don’t torture me, baby. It’s been a week since I last saw you, and I’m holding on by a thread.
AG
But teasing you is so fun.
Me
Fine. Send all the photos you want, but know I’m going to retaliate later.
AG
Can’t wait to see what tricks you have up your sleeve!
“I need to give you a trophy for knocking out Brady Williams.” Ethan scoops a serving of lasagna on his plate. “Best thing I’ve seen all year.”
“Why do you hate him?” I ask.
“The list is too long. He used to make fun of me. I was the punchline of all of his jokes. Some of the things he’s said about women—his ex-wife in particular—are disgusting as hell.”
“He do you mean he made fun of you? I didn’t realize you two knew each other off the ice.”
“We went to rival high schools in Canada, then he was at BU while I was at BU. I had to see his dumb ass more than I wanted to. I wasn’t a great student.
It was hard for me to focus—still is—and I have—had—a hard time with numbers and things.
He called me stupid because I needed extra time on tests.
” Ethan’s cheeks turn red, and I’ve never seen my best friend blush before. “It sucked.”
“Stupid?” I drop the tongs. Fresh rage pounds in my blood, and I want to punch Williams all over again. “Ethan. What a fucking ableist thing for that asshole to say. You know that’s not true, right? You’re not stupid at all. You’re one of the smartest guys I know.”
“Thanks, G. I’m not, but it’s no big deal. We all have strengths and weaknesses, and school was never my jam. At least I have more Stanley Cups than him. His team sucks.” Ethan shrugs. “What did he say to you to get you fired up?”
“You’re right about the way he talks about women. It’s sick. He was chirping and saying shit that has no place on the ice.” I finish filling my plate and scowl. “I doubt I taught him a lesson, but it was fun to see him cry.”
“I’m going to turn you into a fighter so we can sit in the penalty box together.”
“No one needs to sit in the penalty box,” Hudson says.
“Okay, Dad. I know you’re taking over Mav’s captain spot next year, but a little leniency on the number of punches I’m allowed to throw would be nice.” Ethan rolls his eyes. “We can’t all be saints like you, Huddy Boy.”
“I’m not against punches. Some people deserve them.” Our alternate captain fills his glass and leads us to the dining room where the rest of the team is. “Brady Williams is one of those people.”
“Douchebags aside, how was All-Star weekend, Grant?” Riley asks. “Everything you hoped it would be and more?”
“It was a lot of networking and making new friends—no, Ethan, I didn’t replace you,” I say when he opens his mouth to protest. “But I had a good time. It made me feel like I have a spot in the league, and I’d be happy to go back if I was selected.”
“Next year is an Olympic year, so there’s no All-Star game.” Maverick stabs his pasta and takes a bite. “Blogs are already talking about who they think will make the U.S. roster.”
“Damn. I get to kick your asses on the international stage, don’t I?” Ethan grins. “Canada is the superior country.”
“I like Tim Horton’s,” Connor says. “Their Timbits are addicting.”
“Don’t we go to Vancouver soon?” Riley asks. “Wonder if we can get the team to order some for the plane ride home.”
“Well, well, well. Look who suddenly loves the Great White North after all the teasing about our culture.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Not sure you all are deserving of our beloved Timbits.”
“There’s one in Maryland.” Liam taps his phone and holds up a map. “We don’t need to suffer through a Canadian winter for doughnuts when I can tip a delivery driver to bring them to us.”
“Maryland?” Ethan grabs Liam’s phone. “Buckle up, boys. If you thought I was a good player before, wait until I’m fueled by my favorite type of sugar. I’m going to be fucking unstoppable.”
“I was going to mention how much the younger guys have grown up, but Richardson is still the same.” Hudson laughs. “That’s why we love him.”
“Speaking of Vancouver, this is our last long stretch on the road before the playoffs,” Maverick announces. “I’m proud of the effort we’ve put in this year, and if we keep up our intensity, we should have a nice seeding for the playoffs. Just hope we don’t have to play Boston.”
“I hope we get Baltimore,” Riley says, and I perk up. “We’d match up well against them physically, and they play with more intensity than some of the younger squads around the league.”
“The Amelia Green effect,” Liam says, and I drop my fork. “What’s your problem, Everett?”
“Slipped out of my hold.” I flash him a smile. “What do you mean the Amelia Green effect?”
“Stay in the league long enough, and you’ll learn there are two kinds of coaches. Some rely on star athletes to make all the decisions on the ice. Others make calls based on instinct rather than player personnel,” Liam tells me.
“Saunders and Green are the latter,” Maverick says.
“I was used to the former when Coach joined the team, and it was an adjustment to get out of that me mindset. When I did, we started winning. He knew the sport so well, he could create plays that pulled on all of our strengths without having to rely on me to be the only offensive threat. It was a game changer.”
“Coach Green does the same,” Hudson adds. “Her fundamentals are damn good. Baltimore is going to go far with her in charge.”
I could fucking explode with pride.
Hearing the guys I love talk about the woman I love lights me up.
And fuck, do I love her.
I’ve loved people before: My teammates, my family and Hannah. Emmy, Lexi, Piper, and Madeline. The sensation isn’t new, but the depth of it is.
Every time I pulled my fist back and hit Brady Williams in the face, all I could see was Lia. I was ready to sacrifice my body and reputation to protect her.
I just wish I could tell the guys how I feel.
Lia told her friends about our relationship, but I have to be more careful. I trust my brothers, but I don’t trust anyone else. One mistake, and that could be it for us. We’d be over before I had the chance to tell her how I feel, and that’s not happening on my watch.
“Some of her players were on my All-Star team,” I throw out casually. “They like her in the locker room.”
“Emmy does too, and it’s not just because they’re friends,” Maverick says. “She thinks Green is going to be the one to take them all the way, and my biggest hope is for Emmy to get the flowers she deserves. If Coach Green can make that happen, she has my full support.”
“Where is Em tonight?” Ethan asks. “She’s my favorite out of the two of you.”
“With the girls,” Riley and Hudson say at the same time.
“That’s no way to talk to your captain, Easy E,” Maverick grumbles.
“She’s my favorite too,” Connor chimes in, and Mav flips them off.
“Finish your food and stop being mean to me,” he says. “We won’t have dinners like this next year, and you’ll be sorry you spent your time loving my wife more than you love me.”
“Nah.” I grin. “That will still be true then, Cap. We’ll pick Emmy any day.”
My apartment is quiet when I get home. I take off my hoodie and sneakers, dropping them in the foyer. The light is on in the living room, and I follow the soft glow of the lamp down the hall.
Amelia is on the couch with a book in her hand, but her attention is on the television. I dig my notebook out of my shorts pocket and scribble a quick note while her back is turned to me.
Loves watching reruns of the same shows—comedy, always
Loves to snack on popcorn (extra butter, no salt)
“Hey,” I call out, tucking the notebook out of sight. “I’m home.”
“Hi.” Amelia puts her arm over the back of the couch and turns to look at me. Her eyes roam from my shoulders to my bare midriff, her lips curling in a coy smile. “A crop top and glasses? Are you trying to kill me, Everett?”
“Getting ready for summer.” I walk her way, stopping to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “As for the glasses, I ran out of contacts. My new prescription doesn’t get in until tomorrow, so you’re stuck with nerdy Grant tonight.”
“I won’t complain.” She reaches for me, fingers dancing over the sliver of exposed skin below the hem of my shirt. “I like this look.”
“It’s a fair trade-off.” I touch the diamond studs in her ears then move my hand to her throat, resting it over her silver necklace. Her sharp inhale makes my cock throb. “You’re wearing jewelry.”
“You didn’t know I’d be wearing jewelry when you put on your crop top.” Her touch drops to the waistband of my shorts. “Why the trade-off?”
“I know you. You wear jewelry around the people you’re comfortable with.” I sit on the couch and hold out my arms. She moves toward me, her back against my chest and her head on my shoulder. “I like to think you’re comfortable with me.”
“I’m very comfortable with you, and I’m pretty sure the people who work security for your building are onto me,” she says, drumming her nails on the back of my hand. “The guy in the lobby gave me a second glance today, and it made me uncomfortable.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No, but I’m afraid he will next time.” She turns her head, kissing my jaw. “I still wish we had a place to go where no one knew our names. A house outside the city would be nice.”
“You don’t like your apartment?” I ask.
“I love my apartment, but the sneaking around is exhausting. It would be nice to act like an actual couple. We could have a fenced yard instead of your balcony.” Amelia bites her bottom lip. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”
“I’d like a house too.” I smile at the thought of us making pancakes on Christmas morning. An office for her and a home gym for me. “It’s good to have dreams, baby.”
“I’m also dreaming about the offseason. This is the last time I’m going to see you for almost two weeks thanks to our conflicting schedules.”
“I’m still working with the league to accommodate us so we don’t have to be apart for that long.”
“Work harder, Everett. Hey.” Amelia squeals when I dig my fingers into her ribs and tickle her. “Not fair!”
“Very fair. You’re sitting here in one of my T-shirts with all your pretty jewelry.” I lift her out of my lap and spin her so we’re facing each other. I stroke up the line of her throat, the slightest pressure at her windpipe. “Fuck, Lia. I missed you.”
“I saw you this morning before practice.” Her head lolls to the side, a needy hum escaping her. “But I missed you too.”
“Wanna try something fun?” I ask, pinching her nipple through the thin material of her shirt.
“I’ll leave my crop top on while I fuck you if you’ll strip down to nothing but your jewelry and let me dress you up in a new necklace.
” When her eyebrow lifts, I wrap my fingers around her throat. “My hand looks good with silver.”
“You’re infuriating.” Her shirt is already halfway over her head, and she tosses it toward the television. “It’s not fair that you’re sweet and sexy.”
“Guess it’s time to show you that I can also be the guy who isn’t sweet.” I stand and lift her with ease. “Where do you want me to finish tonight, Lia? In your pussy? Or on your ass?”