He could hear the fondness in his mom’s voice as she replied. “He sure is. Sent us the deposit and everything.” She paused. “He seems like a wonderful young man. And that Rowan is a sweetheart.”
Jamie smiled, remembering the little brown-haired kid who’d asked if he was a warrior. “Yeah, he is.” Before he could stop himself, he thought of Tyler. The way the overhead lights in the tiny kitchen had illuminated his lashes, his sharp eyes, and the artwork covering his skin.
“I’m glad your spot was open,” Jamie said.
“Us too,” his mom said. “Let me know what the boys say. Love you!”
“Love you, Jamie!” Dotty’s voice echoed.
“Love you both.” He hung up, tucking his phone into his pocket, and settled in to watch practice.
“They’re here!” Jamie’s mom stood at the front window, watching the street with her hands braced on her hips. Turning back to the room, she gave them her best, no-nonsense teacher glare. “Be nice. Tyler’s a little skittish, but he’s a good one. I can tell.”
Jamie rose from the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his back. Not skating was kicking his ass. With any luck, he’d be cleared to skate again, without a stick, in the next week.
Beside him, Oliver and Onni stood up.
Oliver had brown wavy hair that took about half an hour of careful grooming in the morning, and alarmingly blue eyes that had fans falling over themselves to buy his jersey. He knew hewas cute, too, but he was so fucking nice it offset any potential annoyance. He’d had a strong start to his rookie season, earning a spot on the third line.
Oliver was never seen without Onni. They were a bit of an unlikely duo–Oliver’s loud, vibrant personality and charisma couldn’t be more different from Onni’s stoic quiet.
Onni had the kind of build that guys in the league spent years trying to achieve. Being six-three helped, sure, but he had wide shoulders and thighs that could crush a coconut between them. He had white-blonde hair that he wore buzzed close to his head, and, when he smiled, he revealed a small gap between his two front teeth. He was coming in as their backup goalie, but everyone knew Anders was approaching the end of his career. A lot of hope rode on Onni panning out to be a beast in net.
The two young guys hadn’t hesitated to help when Jamie had asked them. Ollie looked like all the kids nowadays–joggers, a black hoodie, and a canvas coat that looked like it was intended for someone who worked on a farm instead of a fashion statement. Onni was a bit more refined in a green fleece and brown beanie.
They dutifully followed Jamie’s moms out onto the porch. It was cold, and a bitter, slicing wind cut through Jamie’s own down coat, but at least some of the snow had melted.
Jamie watched the old Subaru pull up beside the curb. The small trailer behind it had a cheerful, rainbow-colored representation of a beach on the side.Charleston, South Carolina, it said.
The driver’s door opened, and Tyler climbed out. He didn’t seem to notice them, rushing around to the backseat. After a moment, he emerged with Rowan in his arms.
Jamie couldn’t look away.
It didn’t make sense. None at all.
If he’d been walking down State Street and seen Tyler walk past, he wouldn’t have spared him a second glance. Everything about him–the shaggy hair, the tattoos and nose piercing, hisclothing–was the opposite of what Jamie was typically attracted to.
He’d always picked men who were meticulous in their appearance. Clean-shaven, classically handsome faces with square jaws and full mouths. Men with tailored clothing, office jobs, and strong opinions about wine pairings at dinner.
Tyler wasn’t…He wasn’t that.
He had a mullet, for fuck’s sake.
Today, Tyler wore a mustard-yellow puffy coat that was much too big for his frame. It hung open, revealing the purple, washed-denim overalls underneath. A pale lavender beanie sat crooked on his head, and his hair was curlier than Jamie remembered it being.
Tyler was halfway up the front walk when he looked up. He froze, staring up at the assembled group on the porch.
“Um,” Tyler began, adjusting Rowan on his hip. “Hi.”
“Hello!” Dotty called out, waving.
His eyes lingered on Jamie. “What’s going on?”
“We thought you could use a hand,” Jamie’s mom said. She pointed to the little door leading up to the attic apartment. “Those are some steep stairs.”
Tyler surveyed their group, his dark brows knitting together. “Oh, that’s really nice of you,” he said, already backing up. “But I think we’ve got it.” He said the words with finality.
Jamie watched him circle around the vehicle to the back of the trailer. He whispered something in Rowan’s ear and then set him down on the curb. The toddler immediately began to cry, hands reaching up and grabbing at the hem of Tyler’s coat.
