But Thad …
Graham’s mind twisted away from the thought.No. You’re not going there, he reminded himself.
“Hey! Long time no see! How was the rest of your summer, dude?” Tanner said, bouncing up with a bright grin. “That skills camp we were at in Chicago was the fuckingbomb, no? We are gonna tear it up this season!”
Graham had never met anyone who moved like Tanner did, like someone had installed little springs in his shoes. He was like that on the ice too, fast and explosive, not to mention being a pest.
Honestly, he was kind of a pest off the ice too, full of boundless energy, good humor, pranks, and constant nonsense.
“Hey, G-man?” Tanner said, poking him in the ribs. “You alive in there?”
Graham realized his call with his mom had ended a while ago and he was standing there with his phone in his hand staring at Thad.
Who, thankfully, was turned away and focused on his camera. Butsomeonemight notice.
Probably not Tanner, but someone.
“Yeah,” Graham said, forcing a smile onto his face as he tucked his phone into his pocket and focused on Tanner. And yeah, he wasn’t bad-looking either with his springy brown curls and constant smile, his eyes twinkling like he was up to something. Which, knowing him, he probably was. “Summer was good. After the skills camp ended, I went back to Traverse City for a little while, then visited my parents and sister. And I told you, don’t call me G-man.”
Tanner shrugged. “Well, it’s better thancracker, right?”
Graham shuddered. Okay, the graham cracker pun was objectively kind of funny butno. Talk about bad optics. He couldnothave his teammates calling himcracker.
Not with all its other connotations.
“Marginally better, I guess,” he admitted.
“Dude. You’re no fun,” Tanner said with a pout. “Hey, speaking of fun, are you going to the thing tonight?”
“The thing?” he asked blankly.
“Yeah, the thing at the O’Sheas. The ‘welcome back to Boston’ thing.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Glad to hear it.” A hand landed on Graham’s shoulder, and he jumped.
Graham turned to see his captain, Connor. Speaking of an O’Shea …
“Hey, man,” Graham said, hugging him.
“Hey.” Connor pounded him on the back. “Glad to have you here.”
He said that like he and Mickey and Graham hadn’t gone out to lunch yesterday for a leadership meeting with Gavin, their general manager, and Finn, their vice president of hockey operations.
Graham had been an alternate captain all last season, but Mickey hadn’t been made one until after it was over and Finn hadn’t come on board with the organization until last winter.
Other than the trippy reminder of how much Gavin and Thad resembled each other, it had been good to sit down with the guys and strategize about their plans for the season. Discuss what they expected to happen, and how they were going to make sure the team was even tighter than they had been last year.
Mickey added a different perspective too, rounding out what Connor and Graham had already been building on, and Graham was pleased to have him on board. The same with Finn.
Though Connor had reminded them that all plans for team events should be run by his boyfriend, Jesse, the team’s goaltender and—Connor had used finger quotes—self-appointed “fun committee.”
“Where he fuckin’ comes up with this shit,” Connor had said with a shake of his head, his Boston accent thick and his affection for Jesse even thicker.
But weird goalie shit aside, they all had a lot to look forward to this season.
Even if Graham didn’t know how to get out of his head about seeing Thad again. It had been bad enough spending time with his twin brother yesterday.
