The three of us collapse in a heap on the bed. No one speaks until everyone’s breathing returns to normal. I’m a sticky mess, and so I leave the boys and pad off to the bathroom. When I get back from a warm, soapy rinse off, wrapped in a fluffy pink towel, I find Landon snoring and Grady gone. I make my way through the house, and when I don’t find him on the first level, I climb the stairs. I can hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom before my feet hit the landing.
The pine floorboards creak under my feet, and I push the annoyance from my brain. Unlike Landon, I have never found his family’s cottage comfy or quaint. It’s old and unrefined, and I dread every vacation we spend here. And now I’m living here? I swallow down that ugly reality too because I want to hold onto the pleasure of the night a little bit longer.
I rap softly on the painted oak door as I hear the taps of the shower creak as Grady turns off the water. “Grady? You okay?”
“Yeah. Good. Just cleaning up.”
“Okay.” I smile. “Come back downstairs if you want.”
I turn and head down myself. As I drop my towel on the floor and crawl under the covers, careful not to wake Landon, who is face down on top, bare ass on display, I expect Grady to come back down. But when I wake up with the sun barely up, he’s not there, and neither is Landon.
There’s a note in Landon’s scrawl on the night table.
Low tide. Went for beach run. Then picking up the car and heading to rink for PR thing. See you later. Love L
I tell myself it’s all fine and fall back to sleep.
Chapter 13
Grady
I’ve had better games. Much better games. I’ve had worse games, too, but not much worse. Coach Larue starts me against the Barons, much to Tyson Michaels’ dismay. I’ve never had a fellow goalie be such a little bitch before. I would laugh if it wasn’t so uncomfortable. And then I go and let in two goals in the first period and three in the second. Between the second and the third, Coach comes into the locker room and tells Michaels he’s in. He pats my shoulder and gives me a small smile, but I know he’s probably as disappointed as I am.
I look to Landon, hoping for his usual reassuring gaze and slight nod of his head. The one that says it’s not the end of the world and I’ll bounce back. That he has faith, and I should shake it off, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s tugging on his skate laces like he’s intentionally trying to break them.
He hasn’t looked me in the eye since last night. Not a good sign. To be fair, I started the day in a sheer panic and purposely avoided him, calling the Riptide’s PR director with some phony excuse about why I couldn’t make the meeting she had scheduled with both Landon and me. She needed to film some social media videos with the new players, but I needed to get my head on straight before I faced Landon. I didn’t think seeing him for the first time after he jerked me off in front of Riptide staff and a fucking camera was the best idea.
Then I avoided the house all day and even skipped my pre-game nap to avoid having to deal with the aftermath. And now I’m playing like shit, and my only confidant on my new team is pretending I don’t exist. Good times.
Conner hobbles over on his skates, towering above me as I sit like a festering pile of garbage on the bench in front of my locker. He taps my shoulder with his hand, and I look up. I hate having to look him in the eye right now. “We’re all having a rough one. In the words of Tay Tay ‘Shake it Off’.”
I almost smile at that. “Since when do you quote Saint Swift?”
“Since Mac and I have been fostering a seven-year-old who loves her. Like obsessed. And she’s been through a lot, and it’s like the only thing that seems to make her smile,” Conner explains.
I blink, and now I do smile. “What? Why isn’t this in the group chat?”
“Because we’ve had her a hot minute and we don’t want to overwhelm her with the nine hundred overbearing, well-meaning nutbars we call family,” Conner says with a big grin. “Her name is Violet. My parents and Mac’s parents know, but that’s it. And now you, because I knew you’d be happy.”
He’s right there. I’m thrilled for them. I knew his wife Mac, wanted to foster because she’s a foster kid who was eventually adopted by our coach and his now wife. Con knows I’m all about kids. I love them. I’m excited to see my cousins start the next generation of Garrisons. “That’s great, Con. Honestly. It does make me happy.”
“Me too. Buck up, Grady. It’s one game, and it's pre-season. You know that doesn’t count… unless we win. It’s a clear indication we’re Cup-bound.” Conner taps my shoulder again and then turns to lead the team out of the locker room. I stand, leaving my helmet on the bench. I grab my new Riptide baseball cap out of my cubby and shove it over my damp hair, trying not to guess what the announcers will say on the television broadcast. My head conjures it up anyway. “Well, Grady Garrison hasn’t had a great first game with the Tide, and the coach has put him on the bench for the third. Hopefully, he can find that mojo he brought to L.A., or it’s going to be a long season.”
It’ll be some such shit like that. And then tomorrow the podcasters will start lamenting on whether or not my results in Los Angeles were a fluke. Fuck my life.
We lose, but in overtime, which takes the sting off a little. Michaels looks like he could spit fire as he stomps by me on his way to the showers. “Rough one.”
“Thanks to you,” he growls and keeps walking. “No way I could get them back from that hole you put me in.”
Ouch. And fuck off. I don’t say anything, though, because it would just make things worse if I pointed out that he let in two super-easy shots in that shootout at the end. Ones I know, even on my worst day, I would’ve stopped. I shower quickly, eager to get to the friends and family lounge and get it over with. My entire fucking family—everyone who isn’t on a team of their own—came tonight.
Landon’s in the hallway outside the lounge. “Hey.”
He turns and gives me the most insincere smile I have ever seen. It’s almost comical. “Hi. Winnie, Holden, and my parents are here tonight with Angie. I have to say goodbye before we hop on the bus to the airport.”
We’re heading to play Boston in our last pre-season game, and then we fly on to Toronto for our first game of the season. We’re one of the unlucky teams that start the season on the road. It’s more fun to start at home in front of fans.
I glance down the hallway in both directions. People are wandering by, but everyone is ignoring us. “We’ve fucked it all up, haven’t we?”
