Chapter 10
Magnus
People think living in a hotel is luxurious. Like I eat room service steak every night, sleep in, and have people making my bed and tidying up after me daily.
I got the wrong bag of laundry back from the hotel laundry service. Again. And I’m supposed to be at Blair’s house in an hour.
My clean-laundry situation is bleak. I sent away everything I didn’t take on my road trip with the team. Hopefully when I call the front desk, they’ll be able to send up the right laundry immediately.
“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” the front desk attendant says. “Our housekeeping manager will be back tomorrow and she’ll look into it.”
I exhale heavily, looking at the ceiling. “Isn’t there anyone who can help me today? Can you see if anyone else called and said they got the wrong laundry? I can go switch with them right now.”
“If you’ll hold, I’ll check.”
We flew home after our last road game last night, which we lost 3–2. Close losses are a bitch. I scored one of our goals, so that’s something, but a loss is still a loss.
I’ve worn the Crush hoodie I wore on the flight home a lot on the road trip, and I don’t want to wear it over to Blair’s. I was so tired when I got in at four thirty this morning that I went right to bed and slept until noon. Then I worked out, so I’m a sweaty mess.
My plan was to shower and head over to her house since I’m supposed to be there at three.
“Hi, Mr. Lundgren, we’ve had no other complaints from guests about getting the wrong laundry.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I hang up the receiver, then go over to the two large suitcases I brought my stuff in when I got here. There’s not much to choose from, but I find a gray T-shirt and black shorts.
It’s not great attire for January in Cleveland, but at least it’s clean. Fuck the Grand Madison Hotel. I can’t wait to get out of here.
After a quick shower, I see a missed call from Art. I call him back, putting him on speaker while I get dressed.
“Hey, Magnus, how are you?”
“Not bad. You?”
“Living the dream. My wife’s pregnant again.”
“Congrats, man.”
“Thanks. We already have three and planned on being done, but I seem to have very resilient sperm. Anyway, great road trip. Two goals and an assist over three games is excellent.”
“Thanks. Have you heard anything else from Seattle?”
“They want to know if you’re serious. They’re thinking three years, four million a year, and a signing bonus the GM called meaningful.”
“Shit ... wow.”
I gape at the shitty brown rectangle wall art, trying to find any other words.
Cleveland is paying me two million this year, which seems like a lot, but after taxes and Art’s cut, I only end up with half that much.
And if Elin needs to spend years at the Berlin facility, which we just don’t know at this point, I need to save every penny I can now so I can keep paying for it even after I retire.
“That’s their opener.” I hear the thud of the small rubber ball Art bounces off his office wall during phone calls. “We’ll counter when the time comes.”
If I can stay healthy this year and keep playing well, my mom and Elin should be set financially. I’ll spend a little over a hundred thousand helping them this year, and I thought I might have to make the money from this year last forever. But a contract will come with protections.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Art.”
“What do you think? Want to ride it and see what happens? Or should I approach Cleveland?”
Seattle can’t formally make me an offer for next year and beyond yet. So I don’t want to jump at them just yet, even though this is great news.
I run a hand through my hair, glancing at my watch. “No, let’s see if they come to you. I like this team a lot, but I don’t know if there’s a first-line spot for me.”
“Okay, let’s sit on it.”
“I have to go. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“You got it, boss.”
I push the button to end the call, smiling. I could call my mom about this, but she wouldn’t understand. My family thinks I’m a big US hockey star, and they don’t know how desperately I need a good contract offer.
It’s not even a sure thing. I shouldn’t get too attached to the numbers Art mentioned because it’s not a formal offer.
The road trip I’m coming off was a grind, though.
My shoulder ached, but I couldn’t let anyone see it.
Even telling Cleveland’s trainers could start a rumor that leaves our locker room and kills my chances of a deal elsewhere.
Bash and Silas both got the flu while we were on the road. Silas puked on the plane and the smell lingered in the air for the whole trip. Our game against Denver was extra chippy and I’m still sore from the fighting.
I can forget all that shit tonight, though. I call in a pizza order and leave the hotel, thinking about Blair. She’s been on my mind every day since I last saw her.
There’s a line I can’t cross with her. Nothing physical. Not when I’m most likely making a big move in a few months. But we can be friends. I can hang out with her and her kids instead of rotting alone in my hotel room.
I don’t know what kind of pizza they like, so I got a cheese, a sausage, a pepperoni, and a supreme. I park in her driveway and grab the pizzas, Coop running out the front door to greet me.
“Monopoly night!” he yells, grinning.
“Whoa, dude. You lost a tooth.”
There’s a hole where one of his front lower teeth used to be.
“The tooth fairy left me a dollar and a new toothbrush. She said I need to eat less sugar.”
“You talked to her?”
“No, she left me a note.”
Blair’s waiting at the front door, ruffling Coop’s hair as he runs in and saying, “Stop going outside with no shoes; it’s freezing.”
I look down at my legs and give her a sheepish look. “In my defense, my laundry got mixed up and shorts and T-shirts are the only clean clothes I have.”
“Do you have laundry? You can do it here if you want.”
“Thanks, but I don’t. I think the hotel gave someone else my clean clothes and I have theirs.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Ew. Yours will need to be washed again. Who knows what some weirdo could be doing to them?”
“I hadn’t thought about that, thanks.”
“Dong, no!” one of the boys cries out.
Blair races into the kitchen and I follow. When I get there, I see it was Eli who scolded the cat. Dong is frozen in place on the kitchen island, his paw midair. There’s something white on his nose and his paw.
“Dong!” Blair throws her arms in the air. “Are you serious?”
He jumps down from the island, unconcerned. Blair picks up a glass pan and moves it beside the sink.
“The cake?!” Coop cries. “What happened?”
“Dong put his foot and his face in it, so we can’t eat it now.”
“Bad Dong!” Coop glares at the retreating cat.
Blair meets my gaze and we both burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny!” Eli says. “We spent two hours making that cake.”
“I know,” Blair says. “But we can’t eat it now.”
“It looks like you guys did a great job, though,” I say. “What kind of cake is it?”
“Red velvet,” Eli says.
I set the pizza boxes on the island. “Guess we better keep these closed when we’re not getting pizza out of them.”
“We watched your game,” Coop says.
“You did?”
“That guy punched you and then you punched him three times!”
I give Blair a quick apologetic look. “Fighting is part of hockey, but I never fight outside of games.”
“What if someone kicks you in the nads?”
“Cooper Alexander!” Blair’s jaw is practically on the floor. “Since when is it okay for you to talk like that?”
“You said it’s okay to say penis and vorgina.”
She closes her eyes, mortified. “I said when we’re talking about our bodies, we should always use the correct words, yes. But this isn’t one of those conversations, and nads is not a correct word.”
I cough to keep myself from laughing.
“Vorgina isn’t a word,” Eli says to Coop, his brow furrowed. “It’s—”
“Over!” Blair interjects. “This conversation is over. Let’s eat some pizza and then start our game, okay?”
When the boys are immersed in choosing the right pieces of pizza, I put a palm on her midback, meaning it to be a comforting gesture. But when her eyes immediately flick up to meet mine, I pull it away.
I can see the question she’s silently asking me: What are you doing?
We can’t be more than friends, and I shouldn’t have touched her. The look in her eyes wasn’t upset or accusatory; it was questioning.
Touching her in any way when I can’t say whether I’ll be living here in June and beyond is reckless. It’s giving her mixed signals.
I got the best news I could have today, but the timing sucks. I like Blair a lot, and nothing makes me want her more than seeing her be a good mom to her kids.
I’m not a guy with kinks, but I feel like one when I see Blair just being a mom and I get turned on. Not every mom is sexy. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever looked at a mom parenting and thought it was hot.
Blair, though, does it for me. She passes both boys napkins and they walk into the dining room. The Monopoly game is set up at the kitchen table.
She picks up a paper plate and opens a pizza box. I approach her, keeping my hands to myself.
“Sorry,” I whisper softly. “I didn’t mean ...”
She just looks at me, waiting. I clear my throat and say, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
A smile tugs on her lips as she whispers back. “It’s okay. I can handle your hand on my back.”
I arch my brows, unable to stop myself. “Anywhere else you can handle it?”
A smile lights up her face, and she flushes. My heart pounds like it does during a face-off in a game. If we were alone, this is where I’d lean in a little closer to make sure she wants me to kiss her.
“I’m done!” Coop flies into the kitchen, making Blair and me both scoot back a few inches.
“Let’s start the game,” Coop says, putting his paper plate in the trash.
“We haven’t had any pizza yet,” Blair says. “Give us a few minutes.”
She busies herself putting pizza on her plate, not looking at me. I don’t stop looking at her, though.
How could I? She’s wearing jeans and a lightweight sweatshirt, her hair loose around her shoulders. The jeans hug her curves. I can’t help thinking about how much I want to pick her up and put her ass on the island so I can take her jeans off and make her flush all over.
Beneath the proper mom, there’s a woman I’d love to see more of. I can’t, though. I can only spend time with Blair when her boys are with us, because I don’t trust myself alone with her.