“That's not an apartment,” I said.
“No. It's not.” Grant was already reading the details. “It's a house. About forty minutes north of the city. Near the coast.”
“We can't afford a house.”
“We could if we pooled resources. And if the mortgage is comparable to city rent...” He trailed off, doing math in his head. “Actually, it might be cheaper long-term.”
I stared at the photos. The house was beautiful. Not massive, not flashy, just... real. The kind of place you could actually live in instead of just exist in.
“You want to go look at it?” Grant asked.
“Do you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Forty minutes later,we pulled up in front of the house and I understood why Rook lived out here.
It was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of place where you could hear the ocean and the wind and nothing else. Trees on one side, open space on the other, and beyond it all, the water.
Rook's truck was already in the driveway of the house next door. He walked over as we got out, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed in a way I rarely saw him at the arena.
“You made good time,” he said.
“We were motivated.” Grant shook his hand. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“No problem. Figured you guys might want some space from the city. Out here, people mostly mind their own business.” Rook looked at me. “How's the shoulder?”
“Good. Tess says another two weeks and I'm cleared for full contact.”
“Good.” He nodded toward the house. “Owner's inside. She's expecting you.”
The owner was a woman in her sixties named Margaret who was relocating to be closer to her kids. She showed us through the house with the kind of detached politeness that said she didn't follow hockey and had no idea who we were.
It was perfect.
Open floor plan. Hardwood floors. Kitchen with windows that looked out toward the water. Three bedrooms upstairs. Basement that could be converted to a gym. A porch that wrapped around the front.
“There's an office upstairs,” Margaret said, pointing. “Previous owner used it for work-from-home setup. And thebasement has good ventilation if you wanted to use it for exercise equipment.”
Grant and I exchanged looks. This was exactly what we'd been talking about in the truck. Office. Gym. Space to actually live instead of just crash between practices.
“Can we have a minute?” Grant asked.
“Of course. I'll be outside.”
When she left, I turned to Grant. “This is a house.”
“I noticed.”
“We were looking at apartments.”
“We were. But this is better.” He moved to the window, looked out at the water. “This is space. Privacy. Room to actually build something instead of just surviving.”
I joined him at the window. The view was incredible—trees, water, sky. No buildings. No traffic. Just quiet.
“Can we actually afford this?” I asked.
“If we're smart about it, yeah. Mortgage would be comparable to city rent for a decent apartment. And we'd be building equity instead of throwing money away.”
