Chapter 10
LIAM
Seriously, Kanes – let me know if you and Jasmine need anything!
We’ll be fine. Thanks, though!
Keep an eye on my dad so he stays out of trouble!
LOL Yeah because I’m sure he’s the biggest troublemaker in a house full of hockey players.
Fair enough. Just don’t play Uno with him. (grimacing emoji)
Oh? Is there a story there?
Ask him. (devil emoji)
Okay now I’m curious. Take care tonight!
Will do.
I put my phone facedown on the end table and rejoined the banter in the man cave.
Or, well, I meant to, but then the phone pinged again. It wasn’t my teammate this time.
Mom
Happy Thanksgiving, honey! Looking forward to seeing you at Christmas!
Happy Thanksgiving. Looking forward to Xmas too!
We miss you!
Miss you too!
Sadness tugged at me as I put the phone back down. Holidays like this were a double-edged sword. It was amazing to have my house full of people. All the kids running around, people chatting and bantering, everyone eating—I loved it.
But it was still lonely in its own way.
At the end of the night, everyone would go back to their own homes. I’d be the only one left in a house full of silence and discarded paper plates. Tomorrow morning, I’d be eating Thanksgiving leftovers alone.
Some of the guys managed to go home for the holiday, but they’d be on their way to the airport after dinner to be back in time for practice tomorrow. For me, it just wasn’t worthwhile to travel, not even to Minnesota, during the country’s busiest travel period.
I’d be fine, especially since my parents would be here for Christmas along with my brother and his family.
Just a few more years, I reminded myself. I loved hockey, and I loved this career, but that was one thing to look forward to when I retired—a more normal, sedate life where I could travel and visit family at my leisure.
I didn’t know if that would be a salve on the empty space where hockey used to be, but it was something. I didn’t even know how to live as a normal person who wasn’t beholden to the schedule and training regimen of a professional athlete. I wondered how long that novelty would take to wear off.
Well, it was still a few years down the line. Tonight, I was grateful to have some teammates and their families at my house to share Thanksgiving.
My gaze slid toward Garrett, and my breath stuttered. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough to make my stupid brain record scratch.
I was spending the holiday with a ridiculously hot man in my house. Eye candy wouldn’t keep my bed warm, but it could sure take the edge off my suddenly melancholy mood.
And hadn’t his son told me there was something I should ask him about?
I cleared my throat as I reached for my beer. “So Chris said to keep you out of trouble while you’re here.” I inclined my head. “And something about not letting you play Uno?”
The sudden laughter that poured out of Garrett made me hot all over. “Oh God. I mean… I guess it’s fair?”
“What?” Temo chuckled, gesturing at Garrett with his beer bottle. “You cheat or something?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I play fair. But I will absolutely throw a Draw 4 at one of my kids and not apologize for it.”
The guys all laughed.
“Man, that’s cold.” Temo gestured at Barns. “We should make you two play against each other. See who gets more pissed off.”
Garrett eyed Barns. “You don’t play nice?”
“Not at Uno,” the goalie said without a shred of repentance. “I follow the rules and all, but I’m like him”—he nodded at Garrett—“I’ll make my grandma Draw 4 and not feel bad about it.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “And you’ll subject all of us to your house rules just so you can beat everyone.”
Barns grinned and didn’t gainsay him.
“House rules, huh?” Garrett grinned. “Let me guess—stacking Draw cards?”
“Damn right,” Barns said. “And Skip cards. Nothing like making someone draw half the deck, then skipping their turn for the next three rounds.”
Garrett whistled. “And you do that your grandma?”
Barns shrugged. “She taught me to play that way!”
“Oh, so we can blame your grandma, then,” Temo said. “She’s the one who taught you to be a prick.”
Another shrug, still without any shame. Typical Barns.
“Okay, so no Uno tonight,” Temo declared. “Otherwise we’ll end up with a fistfight or some shit.”
Garrett looked at Barns with wide eyes, then shook his head emphatically. “I’m not getting into a fistfight with him! I’ll die!”
“Not you and—” Temo flailed a hand at the goalie. “I mean whichever one of you plays like a dickhead and whoever gets pissed off. I don’t want to have to clean up blood in Saint’s mancave again.”
“Again?” Garrett peered at Temo and me. “Is there a story there?”
Rolling my eyes, I held up two fingers.
A mix of alarm and amusement curled his lips and widened his eyes. “Do tell.”
I turned to Temo. “You gonna tell him or am I?”
“I am,” he declared. “So he gets the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
Craws and Barns both howled.
“Bullshit, man.” Barns smacked Temo’s arm. “If it’s coming from you, it’s a lie.”
“Dude, I will kick your ass.”
Barns sat up a little straighter, as if to remind us all that he was almost six foot six. “I’ll just put my hand on your forehead and let you swing at nothing.”
“I’ll bite your fucking knees!” Temo snapped his teeth, and we all collapsed into laughter.
Right then, Hannah, Craws’ wife, came into the room, their five-month-old in her arms and a playfully concerned expression on her face. “Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not.” Craws gestured at the baby. “You want me to take her for a bit?”
Her shoulders dipped and she exhaled, letting the fatigue show. “Yes, please.” Her features scrunched. “I know I shouldn’t be—”
“Babe. Relax.” Craws smiled and rose. He kissed his wife’s forehead and gently took the baby from her arms. As their daughter settled on his shoulder, still sound asleep, he said, “Go chill for a while. I’ve got her.”
She glanced at the baby. “You sure?”
“Yes. Go.” He smiled, touched her cheek, and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “It’s a party. You’re supposed to relax, too.” He patted their daughter’s back and smiled. “And I’m not going to say no to spending time with her.”
That seemed to relax Hannah. “Okay. Just let me know if you need—”
“I got her, babe. Where’s the diaper bag?”
“The room off the foyer. With the coats and stuff.”
He nodded. “Okay. Got it.”
She smiled, gave the baby a gentle pat, and then left the man cave while he eased back into his chair.
“How old?” Garrett asked.
Craws smiled proudly. “Five months last week.” He paused. “And I’m lucky I have her.” He looked pointedly at me. “After someone tried to give me an on-ice vasectomy.”
Alarm widened Garrett’s eyes.
“What?” I spread my palms, though I couldn’t keep a straight face. “You got credit for the goal! And obviously things still worked, since…” I gestured at my teammate’s daughter.
“Still. That was some bullshit.” To Garrett, Craws said, “So, yeah, I was next to the crease, and this dickhead”—he nodded at me—“banked a shot into the goal. Off my cup.”
Garrett winced, pressing his thighs together. “Oh. Ow!”
“Yeah. Ow! Because cup or not, that shit hurts!”
“But you got the goal!” I protested.
Craws rolled his eyes and mocked in a high-pitched voice, “But you got the goal!”
Temo, Barns, and Garrett were all shaking with laughter. So was I. Craws just glared at me, but even he couldn’t help chuckling.
“You’re a dick, Saints. That’s all I’m saying.” He picked up his glass. “Damn it. I’m dry.” He peered at the glass, then at his daughter, clearly trying to come up with a solution.
“Do you want me to get you a beer or hold the baby?” I asked.
He thought about it. “Baby.” With a subtle wince, he added, “My arm’s already falling asleep.”
“Drama queen,” I muttered, but I got up and took the sleeping child. She fussed a little, so I stayed up and bounced her gently. Craws hesitated to go, but since she quieted, he headed for the door. “You want anything?”
I glanced at my own beer, which was still half full. “Nah, I’m good.”
He left, and I continued bouncing her while she slept and Temo regaled Garrett with yet another tale of hockey shenanigans. About the time he’d wrapped up a story about some pranks on the bus last season, I caught Garrett watching me, his expression unreadable but sweet, as if he liked the view.
Apparently noticing I’d noticed him, he jumped, blushing as he shifted in his chair. “That, um…” He cleared his throat. “Brings back a lot of memories.”
“I bet. You have… four, right?”
He nodded. “Yep. Not that any of them have been”—he gestured at the baby—“that size for a long time.”
“Oh, so that means you’ve slept?” Craws said as he came back in the room, fresh beer in hand. “When exactly does that start happening again?”
Garrett laughed, bringing his own drink to his lips, but he didn’t answer.
The curiosity in Craws’ expression morphed to horror. “It… It does come back, right? Eventually?”
Garrett rolled some beer around in his mouth, unaware of me fixating on his lips. Then he swallowed it. “See all this?” He gestured at the silver in his hair. “Each gray hair represents a day without sleep.”
Craws’ lips parted.
I snorted. “Sweet dreams, Craws?”
Craws flipped me off, and I shielded his baby’s face with my hand.
“Not in front of the baby,” I said, sounding exaggeratedly scandalized. “Have some manners!”
“Pfft. That child is going to grow up around hockey players. She might as well learn what the finger means now.”
“How the hell does anyone grow up around hockey players?” Temo asked. “Because we sure didn’t grow up.”
“Glad you’ve accepted that, Temo,” I said. “Acceptance is the first step.”
He glared at me. “You want to end up on injured reserve again, pendejo? Because that’s how you end up on injured reserve again.”
“Are you threatening me?” I asked. “Because I will totally tell Coach.”
“Tell me what?” the man in question asked as he stepped into the room, sounding for all the world like he was done with our shit.
I pointed my chin at Temo and whined, “Coach! Temo’s threatening to put me back on injured reserve!”
“Only because he deserved it!” Temo protested.
Coach Dahl looked at us. Then he looked at the other guys in the room for confirmation, earning him some shrugs, nods, and looks of I don’t know, Coach—I would never partake in such tomfoolery. His gaze landed on Garrett, who just chuckled and went for his beer.
Finally, without another word, Coach shook his head and walked right back out.
Craws chuckled, took his baby, and sat back down. I sat too, and we continued shooting the shit.
“So,” Garrett said to Temo, “you never did tell me how you ended up cleaning blood from his man cave.” He gestured at me.
“No, I didn’t.” Temo grinned. “Okay, so we were all playing beer pong…”