Chapter 12
TWELVE
Ryan
Brandon is running on such a hot streak since his arrival with the team that it’s becoming infectious for all of us.
He truly is our secret weapon. No one knows anything about him, and they have no idea what they’re up against. Our stock is rising, and we are a game away from officially being in a playoff position.
When Cap asked who was up for a team dinner at his house before we hit the road again tomorrow to play Florida, it was a unanimous yes from everybody.
Downstairs in their basement where Vicky has set up tables and chairs for everyone, Danton raises his drink up in the air.
“We’re so close, boys,” he says. “And it’s about fucking time.
” He uses his free hand to point around at all of us.
“Let’s keep pushing. There’s only a few weeks left to go and then we start the battle of our careers. The playoffs!”
We all shout our excitement. The closer we get to the end of the regular season, the hungrier we all are. None of us wants our season to end in April.
I turn to look at Brandon crammed beside me. “A lot of this is thanks to you, you know?”
“No it’s not,” Brandon says, taking a sip of his drink. But there’s a small smile on his face, tugging his pinkening cheeks upward.
I get it. Brandon is humble to a fault. He’s also superstitious as hell. If he starts admitting he’s as good as he is to himself, any mistake he makes he’ll attribute it to getting too cocky. But I wish he would get cocky. We wouldn’t be in the position we are in without him.
“Don’t you dare say beginner’s luck,” I say as I pull him under my arm. A little thrill runs up my spine when I feel him relax into my hold, which makes me keep him there longer than I probably should.
“Oh! That’s cute!” Jules says and snaps a quick picture. She checks it then shows it to us. “Perfect.”
I can’t help but agree with her. But the look I see on Brandon’s face says otherwise as he slips out from under my arm. I instantly miss having him there.
“You’re not going to post that, are you?” he asks her, aghast.
“Of course I am.” She laughs, then points at me. Her cheeks are slightly flushed. “The ladies love Ryan.”
“I’m sure they do.” Brandon rolls his eyes.
I lean in conspiratorially towards him and use that as an excuse to sling my arm around him again. “Don’t worry. The ladies love you too.”
He looks mortified at that statement.
“Actually,” Jules says, “he’s polling better with kids.”
“Great,” he says dryly.
I rub the knuckles of my hand roughly across the top of his head, messing up his already shaggy hair. “Trust me,” I say. “That’s a good thing.”
“I know,” he says, relaxing again as Jules walks away and starts taking pictures and videos of everyone else. “It’s just, maybe they shouldn’t be posting me so much. What happens when I get sent back down?”
I shake my head at him. “You’re not gonna get sent down. You’ve worked hard and you’re killing it here. You’re staying.”
“I hope so,” he says. He looks over his shoulder at me, and since I still have my arm around him, the move brings his face close to mine. There is so much eagerness in his eyes, it’s almost unbearable. “I really like it here.”
Here as in St. Louis? Or here under my arm?
I hope the answer is both. Over the last month, I’ve grown accustomed to his presence in my life again.
In fact, as much as I shouldn’t admit this, I’m starting to think one of the biggest reasons why I want the Mules to make it to the playoffs is because I don’t want to go back to life without him around.
Even if it is only for the summer. I want him to stay.
It’s a thought I’ve been having increasingly.
One that’s making my heart rate kick up as I stand here with him tucked under my arm.
“What are you planning on doing after the season?” I ask him.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Probably head home to Green Bay.” There’s a look of disappointment on his face.
“You don’t have to go. You could stay here?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “I’m pretty sure Cap and Vicky’s rookie-sitting duties are over once the season ends.”
“You know there’s other places to live in St. Louis besides their basement.” Like my house, I think but don’t say.
He sighs. “I know, but like, what’s the point of signing a lease somewhere if I might not make the roster next season?”
“You’re making the roster next season.” I laugh because it is such a ridiculous statement.
“Maybe,” he says.
“Definitely,” I say. I still don’t understand what his fear is about or why he’s so convinced he’s going to get kicked to the curb.
We love him here and that’s not going to change when the season ends.
What’s it going to take for him to get it?
Hoisting the Stanley Cup? And even then I’m sure he’ll find some reason to think it has nothing to do with him.
But since I don’t want to linger on this subject any longer, I go back to my original question. “Why don’t you spend the summer at my place?” I ask. My heart rate kicks up while I watch his face morph into shock.
Swallowing, he quickly pulls his features back to relaxed. Well, as relaxed as Brandon can. The Bouchards aren’t exactly known for being able to hide their emotions.
“You’d want that?” he asks, biting his lip.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I think it would be fun.” And it would be. Because even if the feelings I’m developing for him are confusing, by the summer I will have a handle on them.
“If you don’t mind,” he says. “I could find a place to live before the season starts.”
Or keep living with me.
“Sure. Whatever you want,” I say, smiling from ear to ear as my gaze lingers on his lips. I can convince him he doesn’t need his own place later. For now, I’m going to enjoy the fact that I at least have his commitment to stay in St. Louis for the summer.