Chapter 26 Nora
NORA
I’m totally nonchalant the next morning at Perks and Rec.
Okay, I’m trying to be totally nonchalant.
But last night I got a text from Alex that said, Going to work with Josh so I can’t come over.
We didn’t have plans for him to come over that I knew of.
But his next text had been, I know we didn’t have specific plans for me to come over, but just assume that I’m going to be at your house every night that I can.
I’d laughed and also probably swooned a little.
I don’t really know what swooning feels like because I’ve never swooned for any man before, but that’s got to be what that aww-melty-I-fucking-can’t-resist-this-man feeling is.
Anyway, I’d texted back to ask what ‘going to work with Josh’ meant but hadn’t gotten a reply until I’d looked at my phone this morning.
His reply had come in at two a.m., and it had been just a series of emojis. A fire truck, a flame, a grinning face, a head exploding emoji—which I hope means his mind was blown by something and not that he actually saw someone’s head explode—and a face with stars in the eyes.
Now I’m sitting at the counter, picking at my pancakes at seven a.m., and wondering if I can sneak up to his apartment without Bruce noticing because I really want to know more about why and how Alex had gone to work with Josh.
And maybe kiss Alex in a way that the public shouldn't see.
“What are you doing here?”
I look over as Ruth climbs up on the stool next to me.
“Having breakfast. Why is that weird?” I ask. Very not nonchalantly.
She grins. “Because it’s super early and you never get pancakes during the week. You only get yogurt or smoothies,” she says, setting her school backpack on the stool next to her.
Thea drops Ruth off here for breakfast every morning on her way to her physical therapy clinic, and Ruth either walks with her friends from here or Harley comes over and gives them a ride.
“I get pancakes sometimes.” I take a bite. “I love pancakes.”
“But they take too long on a weekday. You only get them on the weekends.”
Bruce comes through the door from the kitchen with Ruth’s breakfast. “She’s been here for half an hour already,” he tells her, setting down her omelet and toast.
“You were here at six thirty?” she asks, jumping off her stool to go behind the counter to pour a glass of juice.
“So? I come in early sometimes,” I say.
Bruce is writing on two sticky notes. “But only when you have a really good reason.”
“Maybe I do.”
“I’m sure you do,” he agrees. “But he’s not up there.”
“Where is…” I stop myself. “Who?” I ask. But it’s obviously too late.
Bruce actually grins as he leans over the counter and affixes the sticky notes to the stands for the day’s straw poll.
What’s more fun? Early morning fishing. Watching the Revelers and Rascals play hockey?
I lift wide eyes to my step-grandfather. “It’s not even a question about Alex today?”
He points at the note about the hockey teams. “I’d say that’s about him, at least partly.”
I smile. “Yes, it is.” He’s definitely a part of the teams, and how fun it is to watch them.
“He left with Quinn about ten minutes before you came in,” he says.
I’m not going to keep pretending that I don’t know what he’s talking about. “He left with Quinn? What for?”
“He’s going to work with her for a bit,” Bruce says, lifting a shoulder. “She’s doing some landscaping over at the Carpenters’ place.”
“He texted me at two a.m.!” I exclaim. “He was out working with Josh.”
“I know,” Bruce says.
“They were at a fire seven miles west of Bad,” Gerald Collins calls out.
“I thought it was north of Bad,” Matthew Winters says.
“It was north of Autre,” Lisa Higgins says.
I shake my head. The location of the fire that my sheltered, grumpy hockey player went to with Josh last night doesn’t really matter. “That means he hardly got any sleep!” I exclaim.
Bruce shrugs. “You know Quinn likes to go out early.”
She does, and getting the manual outdoor work done before it gets oppressively hot makes sense most of the year, and I know Quinn likes to keep her schedule the same, even though this time of year the temps are much more bearable during the day.
“Why is he going to work with all of these people anyway?” I ask, bewildered.
“I’m not sure, but people love it.” Ruth holds out her phone.
I focus on the screen. It’s Alex’s social media account on one of the major platforms. The photo makes my stomach flip. He’s so damned good-looking. And that grin… I actually feel my body tingle a little just looking at how happy he looks.
He’s also holding a kitten.
Oh. My. God.
The smile. The big hands cupped around that sweet, tiny fluffy baby. Just seeing him in a different, “regular” setting, not a hockey stick in sight. It all combines to make me feel a little hot in the clothes I’m wearing. Like I need to take a few of them off.
Yeah, I think this feeling is definitely swooning.
Ruth swipes to another photo. In this one, he’s sitting in a fire truck with a fire hat on, looking like a little boy who got to see a real fire truck for the first time.
In the next photo, he’s standing next to Josh, who is in his firefighter’s uniform and has soot on his face.
Alex has his arm around Josh’s shoulders, and they’re both grinning.
I take the phone so I can read the caption.
This guy goes to work every day ready to run into burning buildings. I go to work every day ready to slap a puck around on the ice. We are not the same.
I smile at the use of words I said to him that first day.
But I also feel my throat tighten. He’s clearly impressed by and appreciative of Josh off the ice.
I know he went to work with Beckett, helping with deliveries yesterday. Last night I heard a few people in the Rec talking about having him show up with Beckett, and Sutton told me that he’d told Beckett he wanted to do it again.
And now he’s hanging out with Quinn.
He’s getting to know his teammates. Even the players on the Rascals.
The latest photo is of him and Quinn both pushing wheelbarrows of bricks.
This woman doesn’t need a weight room. I have a feeling I’m going to be sore tomorrow!
Ruth takes the phone back and swipes again. “Here’s what he’s doing.” She shows me the screen.
Take Alex To Work.
I laugh. “What?”
“He’s going to work with everyone who’s on the hockey teams,” Ruth says with a grin. She swipes to a new screen and hands the phone over.
This is just a photo of Alex in jeans, a Rebel Revelers T-shirt, and a grin.
My heart flips over in my chest.
I’m a hockey player. That’s all I’ve ever been.
And I’ve always been surrounded by hockey players.
Guys who were lucky enough to play professional hockey.
And trust me, luck plays a huge part in making the pros.
But I got lucky again. I now get to play hockey in Rebel, Louisiana, for a whole new league.
And I’m playing with a bunch of people who do a hell of a lot more than just hockey.
These people really love this game. How do I know?
They have to make time for it. They have to squeeze it in between work, kids, taking care of their houses, cars, families, and communities.
They all have a lot more going on than just slapping a puck around the ice.
But they still make it happen because they love it that much.
They know what I do for a living. Now I want to know what they do. It’s Take Alex To Work! I’m going to hang out with these awesome people and really see what their lives are like off the ice. I have a feeling I have a lot to learn.
My eyes are stinging by the time I’m done.
“Oh my God.” I look up at Ruth. “This post has a hundred and five thousand likes.”
She nods. “He’s got a huge following. You should read the comments. People love this.”
I scan through.
First responders deserve all of our respect! Good for you!
This is hilarious! The rich, cocky pro athlete hauling lumber! Don’t get a splinter, pretty boy!
Awesome! Our blue-collar workers rock!
Where is this new team????
You’re in Louisiana?! How did I not know that!
How can we get tickets???!!!
Women in hockey! Yes, please! More of this!
Love it when rich, privileged people realize that regular people exist.
Why don’t you just share some of your money with these teammates so they don’t have to work backbreaking jobs?
Maybe they love their jobs?! I love mine. Yes, it’s hard work, but I love it and I wouldn’t change it.
I’m a firefighter. Thanks for the shout-out from one of my favorite players.
And they go on and on.
“This is really good,” I say softly.
“It is. It’s good for Alex, too,” Ruth says. “He seems to really be enjoying it, and it’s good for him to get to know the other players, right?”
“Of course.” My mind is spinning.
Alex has always only ever seen himself as a hockey player.
His family, his country, hell, the sports world, even some clothing companies, and a sports drink company have only ever seen him as a hockey player.
Interviewers have asked him about his favorite things, his habits, have photographed his apartment, but even then he hasn’t told them his actual favorite movie.
He wears clothes other people send him. He abides by a schedule other people set for him.
Is it possible that the first time the world around him has been…more? The first time the people around him have cared about him as a person so it’s the first time he’s really let himself be more?
I realize that yes, that’s possible.
I pull my phone out and immediately follow him on all the social media platforms.
Then I text him. I know you’re probably going to need a nap this afternoon, but later I HAVE to see you.
I’m surprised, and pleased, to get a reply within a minute.
Ditto.
That’s followed by another message a second later.
But I have to help Beckett with some deliveries. And then practice.
I grin. Alex is busy. In Rebel. And not entirely with hockey.
Nora: I’ll wait up for you. *winky face*
Alex: If you don’t, I know my way to your bedroom.
Goosebumps break out over my skin, and I contemplate pretending I’ve already gone to bed.