GRANT
EIGHTY
OCTOBER, THIS SEASON
I closed on the house three weeks ago.
Between training camp, the preseason, and the first month of games, Lia and I have found pockets of time to add furniture to the living room and decorate the den.
We have a kitchen table and cabinets full of plates.
The couches we picked out are cozy, soft, and big enough for eight hockey players to fit on comfortably.
I bought the biggest television in existence so Lia can watch game film in her pajamas without having to squint at her computer screen.
Down the hall from the main entertaining spaces on the first floor, I surprised her with a home office.
I hung her old jerseys and painted the walls green to go with Baltimore’s colors.
In the primary bedroom, we have a California king mattress and a rich mahogany headboard.
Matching end tables sit on either side of the bed, and it’s finally starting to feel like a home that’s ours.
On the days we get back from an away game or need to be at our arenas early in the morning, we stay at our separate apartments for a shorter commute.
We both agreed we wouldn’t get rid of our old places—not yet—but we’ve spent every night here the last week.
We turn on music while we cook together in the big kitchen.
I attempted to make soup the other night and Amelia was my taste tester, not finding anything to complain about when I held the wooden spoon to her mouth to try a bite.
We followed it up by slow dancing to the sound of boiling creamy gnocchi soup, and I dipped her low after I spun her around.
“You’re going to make me puke,” Lia said, fisting a handful of my shirt. She screeched when I tickled her ribs, a smile settling on her face when I leaned her against the counter. “Would you love me if I puked on the floor?”
“Of course I would. I’d love you if you had hot dogs for feet,” I said.
“Are you telling me I can do no wrong in your eyes, Everett?”
“Nope.” I grinned. “Gold stars all around.”
We’re finding a routine, and on a night late in October, I unfold a blanket across our laps to stay warm.
“How do you feel about Halloween?” I ask, and Lia looks over at me in bed.
“Are you talking about ghosts or more costume preferences?” She sets down her book and scoots closer to me so she can rest her cheek on my chest. “Can I have some more context?”
“More in the costume and party vain. Ethan is having some people over at his place, and I thought it would be fun to go.” I wrap my arm around her and kiss the top of her head.
“But we can also stay here and see how many trick-or-treaters we get. It’s our first year—we have to go hard with the full-sized candy bars. ”
“I’m not sure about either of those options.” She runs her hand over the blanket and sighs. “Handing out candy would require opening the door and talking to our neighbors, and that might bring up questions.”
“The gift baskets we left on their porches at four in the morning probably put us comfortably in the not a stalker trying to break into your house, just a new neighbor who wants to say hi camp.”
“We attached a note!” She turns on her side and blinks up at me. “We told them we work odd hours so they won’t see us coming and going much, but we do exist.”
“I hear ya, baby, but wouldn’t it be nice if someone in the neighborhood knew at least one of our faces well enough so if no one heard from us in a week, they’d be able to identify us to police?”
“And why hasn’t anyone heard from us in a week? You’re not painting yourself in a good light, Everett.”
“Smartass.” I kiss her forehead. “I get what you’re saying. If they see you at the door handing out candy then see me bringing in groceries a week later, they’re going to put things together. Who knows who they’d tell.”
“Exactly.” Lia bobs her head. “You know I’m not embarrassed of you, right? I just want to protect our relationship as best as I can for as long as I can. The second the word gets out to anyone outside of our close circle, we’re—”
“I know.” I pull her closer and rub my hand down her arm. She traces over the tiny tattoo on my hand, and it’s my turn to sigh. “I understand. So no handing out candy on Halloween. What about the party?”
“Are we going to walk into a party holding hands?”
“Nope. I’m going to have Emmy invite you.” I reach over to the bedside table and grab my phone. “You can show up with her.”
“I’m her coach.” Lia laughs and sits up. “I don’t think I can go to a party with her. Or any of you!”
“Everyone will be drunk, athletes from all the sports teams in the city will be there, and Ethan is making everyone sign an NDA.”
“An NDA? What the hell goes on at these parties?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him if there was a dick piercing station there.”
“It’s too late to be having this conversation. I’m going to have nightmares.”
“You’d have even more if you had to see the dick piercings on a regular basis. I still don’t understand the logistics behind it.” I shudder. “What do you think about the party?”
“Does Brody go?” Amelia asks.
“No, but only because he’d rather watch paint dry than surround himself with drunk people all night. But Shawn Holmes, the head coach of the DC Titans football team, stopped by last year. A couple people in the baseball organization are planning on coming too.”
“Huh.” She bites her bottom lip, deep in thought. She wrings her hands together and stares out the window. “There’s a chance I’m not going to stay for a long period of time—or go at all. Being around players puts is a gray area, and it leaves room for debate about my intentions.”
“There’s no pressure to come, sweetheart. I just wanted you to have the chance to go if you wanted to go,” I say.
“You can text Emmy,” she murmurs, chuckling when I pump my fist in the air. “But no promises about what happens after that!”
I type out a message to Emmy and read it over to check how it sounds.
Me
Hey. Question for you.
You’re going to Ethan’s Halloween shindig, right?
Emmy answers quickly, and I show Lia the message.
Emmy
I am! Why? What’s up?
“How about this?” I say, writing out another text.
Me
It’s nice to have two professional hockey teams within a 50 mile radius of each other. We should lean into that community feeling.
If you wanted to bring some people from the Sea Crabs to the party, Ethan wouldn’t mind.
“Not bad, Everett. Not super sneaky, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve seen.” Lia takes my phone and tosses it somewhere on the mattress. “I don’t want to know what she says when she responds.”
I tug on her hand and bring her into my lap. “Is there something else you want to do instead?”
“I can think of a few things.” She straddles me, her arms looped around my neck. “Like planning what costumes we’re going to wear.”
“Hear me out.” I kiss her throat, resting a palm on the small of her back. “How about matchsticks?”
Lia’s giggle is beautiful, and when I flip our positions and press her into the mattress with her hands above her head, I take the sound as a resounding yes.
“Why do you keep looking at the door?” Ethan hands me a beer and follows my gaze. “It’s freaking me out.”
“Just wondering who is going to be here.” I take a sip from the bottle and check my phone. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m fine on my own.”
He doesn’t need telling twice. Ethan pats me on the back and saunters away, finding two women he brings with him to the living room where there’s a bar set up.
In the corner is a tattoo artist tattooing tiny designs on people’s arms and knuckles, and on the other end of the space is a makeshift DJ booth.
It’s a good thing Ethan lives in the penthouse suite on the top floor.
The noise complaints are going to be through the roof.
Add in the packed crowd I have to squeeze through, and I’ll be shocked if the fire marshal doesn’t make an appearance too.
There has to be at least seventy-five people here, and I don’t know half of them.
If Amelia ever shows up, she’ll fit right in.
“Waiting for someone?” Liam asks from his spot against the wall.
I yelp and spill my beer when I spot him lurking in the shadows. He’s wearing cat ears, and there are whiskers drawn on his cheeks. I rub my eyes, certain I’m somehow already drunk.
“Are you a fucking cat, dude?” I ask.
“I was coerced here by my wife. I’m not happy about it,” he grumbles.
“Please tell me you have a tail.”
“You’re not looking at my ass, Everett.”
“If you’re a cat, what’s Piper?” I touch his painted nose and laugh when he growls. “You’re supposed to meow, man.”
“She’s dressed like a jar of salsa. I’m dressed like a cat.”
“Salsa and a cat?” I snap. “Oh. I got it! You’re Pico de Gato! Your furbaby! Damn, Sully. That’s good.”
“It was not my choice.” Liam downs half his whiskey and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “If it were up to me, I’d be at home and fast asleep.”
“It’s nine.”
“Your point?” His eyes flicker to the door when it opens and more guests filter through. I look over my shoulder and follow his gaze, lighting up when I see Amelia in the foyer. “See something that interests you?”
Guess Emmy convinced her to come after all.
“What?” I blink, distracted by the black dress and the scythe she’s carrying. Her blonde hair is down, and the heeled boots she’s wearing make her at least three inches taller than she usually is. “Nope. Just ready to offer up some DC Stars hospitality.”
“Next time you try to lie to me, make sure your cheeks don’t turn red when you gawk at a woman.” Liam puts his fingers under my chin, closing my mouth. I think I’m about to drool. “Word of advice, Everett. Even when you think no one is watching, someone is.”
“That makes me feel like I’m going to wake up and find you standing over my bed. Thanks for imparting your knowledge on me, Sully.” I kiss his cheek and doge his attempt at smacking my hand away. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the goddess of death.”
It takes me a minute to reach Lia. The crowd has grown.
The music gets louder, and the overhead lights in the apartment have been replaced with some laser show.
I have no clue where any of Ethan’s furniture is, and I get stopped by someone who looks vaguely familiar as another athlete in the city—a soccer player, maybe? Or a rower?
By the time I make it to her, there’s already a drink in her hand.
“Everett.” Amelia’s eyes rake over my outfit. She chuckles at pink sheet wrapped around my body and the hat I’m wearing. “Are you a crayon?”
“Yes. I’m so worried no one would be able to figure it out!” I touch the crook of her elbow and brush my fingers along the flowy fabric of her dress. “And you’re a Grim Reaper. I’m not sure if Grim Reapers are beautiful blonde women, but we’ll pretend they are. You look very historically accurate.”
“Thanks.” She lifts her drink and takes a sip through the straw. “You weren’t kidding about there being a ton of people here. I can barely walk around.”
“And this is without any of Ethan’s furniture. I don’t know where the hell his sofa went. Or his television? Weird. Best not to ask questions when it comes to Easy E.”
“There is a disco ball, so I’d say he has his priorities in order. Gosh.” She raises her voice over the noise. “It’s so loud.”
“Can’t have a party without a disco ball. Follow me.” I keep a hand on her arm, leading her past a group of baseball players I’ve never seen before. I navigate us to the hall that leads away from the party. It’s quieter, and I smile when I can actually hear myself think. “Better?”
“Much.” Lia exhales and leans her scythe against the wall. “The last time I was at a party like this, it was at a frat house in Wisconsin. The beer was horrible, and I’m pretty sure eleven people puked.”
“Only the best liquor for our guests tonight, Ms. Green.” I knock my beer bottle against her glass. “And no puking. We’re distinguished adults around these parts.”
We’re interrupted by Ethan heading our way with two women on either side of him. He clasps my shoulder as he passes, wearing a grin but no shirt.
“Dude,” he hisses as the women walk toward his bedroom on the left. “I’m going to get laid by two angels.”
“They’re wearing costumes, E.” I shake my head. “They’re not actual angels.”
“The key word in that sentence was two, G. Double the fun.” He glances briefly at Amelia. “Why do I think I know you?”
“You probably recognize her photo from the guest list you sent out,” I rush to say, knowing fully well Amelia’s name wasn’t on any list. I made sure of it. “This is hot blonde number three.”
“I’ll say. You two have fun. Guest bedroom is open if you want it.” Ethan sways on his feet and waves at an open door on the right. “Condoms are in the bedside table.”
With a pat on my cheek, he skips the rest of the way down the hall. When the door slams shut and locks, Amelia gives me a sharp glance.
“Condoms are very important,” she says.
“We take safety very seriously around here,” I answer, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles.
“I can’t believe that’s your best friend. I’m surprised he’s not dressed as a hot dog.”
“He was. He stripped out of the costume an hour ago.” I lace my fingers through hers. “Want to go have some fun in a place other than the guest bedroom?”
“Yeah.” Amelia finishes her drink with a grin. The flicker of amusement in her eye tells me her inhibitions are lowered. “Hot blonde number three is ready to party.”