“We’re doing okay,” he said finally, glancing at Rowan in the rearview mirror. There was a sleepy smile on his face as he played with Bunny. “We’re figuring it out, one day at a time.”
His mom was quiet for a moment. “Your room will always be ready for you,” she added. “Just in case. If you need to, you can always, always, come home.”
The conversation wrapped up quickly after that. He told his mom he loved her, and then hung up, the silence weighing heavily in the car.
He peered into the backseat again, his shoulders slumping when he realized Rowan had fallen asleep.
Tyler was going to figure it out.
Tyler woke up to Rowan's cries.
His brain wasn’t even aware of his legs climbing out of his bed and taking two steps to reach Rowan’s crib.
Tiny fists glowed in the orange light of the salt lamp, rubbing furiously at his eyes as the whimpering cries built into wails.
Tyler shook the sleep off slowly, sluggishly, as he picked Rowan up and cradled him against his chest.Bang.Bang.Bang.
He looked up at the ceiling.
Fucking Samira.
Or, more accurately, Samira fucking.
Tyler tried to rationalize with himself. This was the shittiest part of their situation. There was no reason why Samirashouldn’tbe having what sounded like very athletic sex in the middle of the night. Most of the people in the house were up at that point, either getting off work or entertaining their own company.
It was Tyler and Rowan who were out of place. They were the ones who didn’t fit.
Rowan’s cries quieted, his body slumped heavily against him. Carefully, Tyler carried him to his bed, laying him down beside him. Rowan curled into Tyler’s side, sighed, and seemed to drift back off to sleep.
Tyler grabbed his phone, pulling up the phone number Sandra had given him.
He knew he should wait until morning, but he needed to act now before he changed his mind. Before he convinced himself that what the women were offering was too good for them.
Tyler
If the apartment is still available, we’ll take it.
CHAPTER 5
JAMIE
A MULLET, FOR FUCK’S SAKE
“Sully!”
Jamie blinked, glancing up from where he’d completely zoned out on one of the stationary bikes at the Muskies practice rink. He waved at Pauly, who’d just walked into the training room with Cody, who had noise canceling headphones pulled tight over his shaved head.
Jamie had come in early to do x-rays and sit down with the team doctor. The verdict was clear: his hand was broken, and even if everything went perfectly, he’d still be out of the lineup for four to five weeks. After that, he met with Morgan, the team trainer, and got started on a rehab plan for his hand. Unfortunately, her directive was equally harsh:Don’t move it, come in for treatment, and we’ll see.
He had to be back for the Winter Classic, which would take place early in the new year. He couldn’t fucking miss it, not after how shitty his start to the season had been. He owed it to his team, to the fans, to be back and better than ever.
Practice would start in an hour, which meant most of the guys were starting to roll in to go about their varying warm-up routines. Esa Couri, Jamie’s winger on the second line, floppeddown on the mat and started talking loudly in Finnish to Onni Koskinen, their young backup goalie and a fellow Finn.
The bike vibrated beneath him. His quads hummed, muscles primed and warm.
This was all normal. It felt normal, at least. The team coming together in the training room, getting ready for practice. Warming up their bodies while casually socializing, gravitating toward the little friend groups that inevitably crept up on such a large team.
Jamie had spent years with many of the guys in this group. He’d been drafted alongside Hugo Andersson, a thin, lethally fast Swede, and Mitchy, who had, at eighteen, quickly become his best friend. He’d roomed with Zach Baker for his first four years on the team, and they’d bonded over tracking down the best bakeries on the road in search of the ultimate cinnamon roll. The past few seasons, Jamie’s house had even become the de facto living space for the young rookies–this year he had Onni, their backup goalie, and Oliver Campbell, their third line winger, living in his basement.
