Bringing my phone to life, I press on the green text message button.
Ten.Christ.
Scrolling through, I see a few from Calder, one of my best friends, telling me to call him when I’m done with the press. Some from my friend Racer congratulating me on a stiff right hook—I chuckle at that one—one from my publicist—insert eye-roll—a few from my mom,andthe infamous text from my dad.
I can deal with the text from my dad when I’m in a better headspace, so I call Calder.
“Where are you?” he answers.
“In my car, in the player’s parking lot.” My car starting to warm up.
“Rachel made some bread pudding and I have some beer chilled. Come over.”
I strap my seatbelt on. “Does the bread pudding have raisins in it?”
“No.”
“Be there in twenty.”
* * *
My keys fall against the marble countertop as I take a seat at the kitchen island of Calder’s house. One of our defensemen, Calder Weiss, knows exactly how to sulk. In private with beer and sweets.
When I joined the Brawlers, Calder took me under his wing, and through the season we grew incredibly close, relying on each other for the good and the bad. This being the bad.
“Saw your interview.” Calder hands me a beer and chuckles. “Steinman is going to have your ass.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
He chuckles some more. “But the guys are worshipping you for finally telling that piranha off. Bend over . . .” Calder sips his beer a smile on his face. “Man, that was great.”
Taking a gulp of beer, I feel the faint tug of a smile on my lips. “I’m not sorry.”
“Evidently.”
Rachel strolls into the kitchen wearing an apron, looking domestic and right at home. A month ago, Calder met Rachel at a noodles and donuts restaurant . . . outside of the bathroom. Romantic, right? The best part, Calder was dressed up for his little girl, Shea, as a fairy, so he was decked out in fairy wings and a tiara looking like a real man-lady. For some reason, Rachel couldn’t say no to giving him her phone number.
That’s some game right there.
They’ve been together ever since and I have to admit, I adore Rachel. She’s perfect for Calder and has really taken on the role of a female figure in Shea’s life. You can tell Rachel loves that little girl.
“Are we ready for bread pudding, or do you need more time to drink your manly beer?”
Calder takes the seat next to me. “Bread pudding.”
I nod in agreement. “Bread pudding.”
“You got it.”
Making her way around the kitchen, she pulls a few plates from the cabinets, some spoons, and dishes out three heaping helpings of her banana bread pudding. She tops them with some melted caramel and a little scoop of vanilla ice cream.
God bless this woman.
“Here you go, boys. Sulk away.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“Yeah, thanks, babe,” I mimic. Calder territorially eyes me—a playful warning—and then dives into his dessert.
