The weirdest thing was that throughout the day, even as a new member of the team, I was aware of Leif’s absence myself. It was hard not to notice despite never having known him. Most people were in happy, festive moods, but I didn’t miss that occasional dip in conversation—the awkward pause as if someone had said something that poked at everyone’s wound, or when they’d dart helpless, pained glances toward Leif’s widow or Avery. It was impossible not to notice when someone was telling a story, and then they’d reach the part that included Leif and suddenly get that panicked,“oh damn, did I just kill the mood?”look on their face.
Shortly after people had started arriving, Rachel had, rather than making a big announcement, quietly told a few of the wives she was expecting. Word got around quickly, of course, and more than once I heard people offering her congratulations, the exchanges tinged with visible sympathy and pain. Everyone told her emphatically that if she needed help with anything to give them a call; she was still part ofthe Whiskey Rebel family, and everyone was eager to step up. She clearly appreciated it, but it must’ve been a gut punch every time. A reminder that there was a need for that help. A reason why they had to remind her she was still part of the family.
A reminder of why that was even a question.
Despite it being almost December, the weather wasn’t bad, the chill demanding jeans and a light jacket at most. Especially as the packed house grew stuffier, Trews and I moved outside for some fresh air while Laramie stayed by the pool table.
The air was cold, but it didn’t have the bite of a midwestern winter like I’d grown up with in Omaha, never mind the two seasons of major juniors I played in Quebec or the years I’d spent in Detroit. Today reminded me a little of the chill of a practice rink—comfortable and familiar.
We joined some of the guys and the wives on the back deck. Below us, Avery and Ziggy were kicking a soccer ball around in the yard with several of the kids, and I… couldn’t help staring.
This was the first time since I’d come to Pittsburgh that I really saw Avery relaxed and smiling. He and Ziggy were chirping each other, but they were mostly encouraging the kids, and they cheered them on every time one got the ball into one of the two hockey nets on the grass.
When one of the younger kids tripped and fell, Avery helped her up and dusted her off. He didn’t fall all over himself and freak out that she might’ve been hurt—just made sure she was okay and got her smiling again before any tears could start. Within seconds, they were back totheir game, the little girl trotting after the ball and giggling with Avery right on her heels.
Oh, fuck me—thatwas the version of Avery that had made coming to Pittsburgh extra appealing. Relaxed. Laughing. So adorable with kids that it made my insides go all gooey. I’d seen so many videos of him with young fans or with the Make-A-Wish kids, and he was always ridiculously cute with them.
Today, the transformation was jaw-dropping. It wasn’t just that his face lit up when the kids wanted to play—it was like he came alive. Yeah, he’d chirped along in the basement while we’d played pool, but there’d still been that sad edge to his mood. Now that he was outside with the little ones, he seemed to have shaken off everything else.
Maybe in another time and place, I could have acted on this attraction. Nobody cared anymore if players were gay or if teammates dated. It just wasn’t a big deal.
But there was no chance of something happening between me and Avery. Not even if this attraction was mutual, which it probably wasn’t.
As the informal soccer game wore on, I realized Leif’s widow was watching, too, a serene smile on her face.
She turned to me. “Oh. I don’t think we were ever really introduced.” She offered her hand. “I’m Rachel Erlandsson.”
“Peyton Hall.” I shook her hand gently, not quite sure what to say.
“How are you liking it here?”
“It’s been good so far.” I laughed. “Not as cold as Omaha or Detroit, so…”
She laughed too. “The milder winters are nice, that’s for sure.” She gestured at the kids playing with Avery and Ziggy. “Are any of them yours?”
“No. No. I’m… It’s just me.”
“Gotcha. Well, the little one out there is Elsa, my youngest.” She nodded toward the yard. “The two brunettes are also mine. Kalle and Linnea.”
I realized then that Elsa was the girl Avery had helped up earlier.
“They’re cute,” I said. “Looks like they’re having a good time.”
“They always do.” She laughed softly. “And they’ll probably sleephardtonight. Playing like this always wears them out.”
I cocked a brow. “The kids? Or…?” I gestured at Ziggy and Avery.
She giggled softly. “Well, the kids. They’re always exhausted after spending time with their uncles.” She quirked her lips. “The guys probably sleep pretty hard, too.”
I laughed. “Yeah, my nieces and nephews wear me out. Maybe that’s the secret to getting everyone to sleep on road trips.” I nodded toward the soccer game. “Turn them loose with some kids until everyone passes out.”
“You’re not wrong. They always—” She caught herself, and her voice hitched a little. She cleared her throat, then said, with a smile that seemed ever so slightly forced, “They always wore their dad out.”
Shit. All roads led to him, didn’t they? I couldn’t blame her at all; it just had to be hard, having a casual conversation and slamming face first into your grief.
“I bet,” I said quietly. “My brother has Irish twins. One’s three, the other is two. He’s always passed out on the couch even before they go to bed.”
That brought a hint of life back to her expression, and she smiled with a touch more feeling. “I can imagine. A pairof toddlers? Been there, done that.” She grimaced and crossed herself, and we both laughed.
