I pull him into my apartment, wrap him in my arms, and breathe him in.
“Hi,” he whispers into my ear and drops the duffle bag he’s holding onto the floor.
“How?” I ask him, squeezing himcloser.
He laughs. “Coach Chris got your address for me from the players’ registry. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? I’m furious I didn’t think to do that.”
“It’s best that you didn’t,” he says.
“I tried to call you.”
“I know.” He pauses. “Well, I don’t know because I don’t have my phone. My father still has it. But I assumed. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but I couldn’t.”
I loosen my hold on him so I can look him in the eyes. “This is better.”
He smiles and places a soft kiss on my lips. His eyes are open and he’s looking over my shoulder. “I’d do more but I see you already have company.”
I let go of Connor but keep one hand firmly planted on his lower back as I look at my teammates. “Get out!”
Bouchard and Tavish begin to stand.
“I’m kidding,” I tell them, then grin at Connor. “Mostly.”
Bouchard doesn’t sit back down as he says, “We should get going, though.” He looks at my dad. “You want to come with me? I have a spare bedroom, and it has an actual bed in it, with sheets and everything.”
“I don’t need a bed,” my dad says. “But I don’t want to be on this couch when these two go to bed.”
“Smart,” Bouchard says. “I shared a wall with them. They’re not quiet.”
“Fuck off.” I flip him my middle finger.
“Actually,” Connor says. “You should all stay. At least while I get Gavin up to speed on what’s going on. We’ll need all the help we can get.” He points at Bouchard. “Especially from you. I’m assuming you’re in touch with the rest of the Olympic team.”
“Of course.” Bouchard beams and sits back down as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll get a group chat going.”
Connor steps away from me and takes a seat on the floor. He grabs a piece of pizza and takes a huge bite. “Sorry,” he says, looking up at me. “I’m starving.”
“Eat,” I say and walk to the kitchen. “I’ll get you a drink.” At the fridge, I hold up a beer and a root beer.
“Can I get a water?” he says, checking his watch. “It’s either too late or too early for me to start drinking.”
“Oh. Right,” I say. “We’ve lost track of time around here.”
“Yeah,” Bouchard says. “A wall clock would have cluttered the décor around here.”
I flip him off, then grab a glass out of my cabinet, making sure it isn’t one of the ones with a chip in it. After filling it, I walk to the living room and hand it to Connor. After he grabs it, I sit behind him on the floor with my bent legs bracketing him, and my back against the wall for support. He leans back into me, and I curl an arm around his waist. I still can’t believe he’s here. I’m overwhelmed with relief now that I have his body resting against mine, anchoring my nerves, and calming me down.
Tavish nods his chin at us, but his eyes are on Bouchard. “Have they been like this the entire time?”
Bouchard grabs another piece of pizza and shrugs. “No, but they weren’t as slick as they thought, either.”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” my dad says.
“I get it,” I say. “You all figured it out.”
Connor turns in my hold to look at me. “Don’t get too mad at them,” he says. “What they’re saying should be able to help us.”
