I sit up, stretch, yawn, and wipe the sand from my eyes as my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen.
LOLA: Well my cat just vomited up a half-eaten mouse. Wanna come over and take care of that?
LANDON: Shit. Wrong chat.
I throw myself back on the bed and laugh.
Chapter 29
Grady
This is the worst road trip of my life. Not because of my on-ice performance. I’m finally becoming more consistent there. But when I’m not doing hockey things—practice, games, video reviews, meetings—I was talking with Harlow, and then my Uncle Luc and Aunt Rose. I told them all what I thought about Theo, that his drinking wasn’t typical or normal. I explained that when I went to Theo’s the morning of the game, I found him passed out in the backyard on a float in the fucking pool. There were discarded beer cans and an empty bottle of whiskey on the picnic table by the sliding doors to the house. There was vomit on the patio tiles, but I couldn’t tell if it was old or new. When I woke him up, he toppled into the water and then yelled at me for stalking him. I tried to reason with him. Told him the league had a program he could join. He should join. And that’s when he called me insane and tried to prove me wrong. By walking around his entire house, soaking wet, picking up every bottle of alcohol he found, and pouring every drop down his kitchen sink, which was filled with dirty dishes that looked like they’d been there at least a week.
I knew to back off then. To stop pushing. He was convinced he had no problem, and I wasn’t going to convince him otherwise. So I told him I believed him when he said he didn’t need it and would stop to prove it. I lied and said it was a good sign he poured everything down the drain, even though I knew it meant nothing when Vegas has a liquor store on every corner.
My Uncle Luc sat all the cousins down when we were in our late teens and talked to us about alcohol and how easy it is to slip into using it as a crutch. I was curious and googled and found out stuff like getting rid of all your alcohol is a way to lie to your relatives and yourself. So most of the road trip was spent Facetiming with the Richard branch of the family tree, planning a way to help Theo. Luc would go to Vegas and stay with his son, whether he liked it or not, and help him. Rose would find professional help. Harlow would be there for both her parents, who looked positively crushed.
The team didn’t have a room shortage again, but every night when we got back to the hotel, be it in Vancouver or Seattle, or San Francisco, Landon either ended up in my room or I would end up in his. Landon’s appetite for sex was as voracious as mine. We were getting expertly acquainted with each other’s likes and limits. It was both addictive and terrifying. I have never craved someone like this, not after I’ve already had them. But the more we touch each other and get each other off, the more I want him. It’s not good. At all.
The closer we get in private, the more I pull back in public. When he invited me out to dinner with his family after the San Francisco game, I said no. When he went to play pool in Vancouver with the other defensemen, I said no. I’ve been letting him board the buses to and from the games before me and purposely not sitting with him. I make sure there are at least two other people at our table for team lunches and dinners.
If we’re always together, I worry someone will catch on, and also, I can’t let him catch actual feelings. And I can’t catch them. Landon is just experimenting, and I’m good with that, but he’s also vulnerable after coming out of a relationship, so he could confuse the lust we have for each other with another L word. I have to be careful for both of us.
The plane lands in Maine after nine days on the road at nine-thirty at night. We’re greeted with icy wind and falling snow that’s so wet it’s basically slush. Tyson pushes past me. I swear he purposely bumps my shoulder in his rush to make it to his car. That’s why when he slips on ice and lands on his ass, I smile.
Abbott walks up beside me and gives me a nudge. “Now, now. At least don’t make it so obvious,” he says, and then his voice drops to a stage whisper, “even if he deserves it.”
He grins, and I stifle a laugh. “You and Landon have your cars here? Deck is picking me up and I can give you guys a lift.”
“I’m in,” Landon says, falling in step beside me.
I shake my head. “No, I gotta… be somewhere. I’m not heading straight home, so I’ll just Uber.”
“Where do you have to be at this ungodly hour?” Conner asks, joining the conversation.
“Spoken like a man with a toddler,” I say, and it makes Conner smile like a lottery winner.
“You’re right! I’m officially that guy who would rather get home and see his kid than go anywhere else,” he says, and everyone smiles.
“But seriously, you have plans?” Landon asks, and I give him a quick, hard nod, ignoring the fact that his face visibly falls.
“See you guys later.” I veer off to the left, heading into the covered area in front of the entrance to the private lounge, while everyone else heads right into the parking lot. It takes Uber fifteen minutes to get here, and I spend all of it slumped against the wall, weighed down with guilt. The drive back to my place is slow going because of the shit weather, and I’m not at all comforted by the fact that when the driver turns onto my street, it’s black. Pitch black. No light shining out of homes, no street lights. Nada.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I find a message from my landlord there.
ROBBIE LANDLORD: The Tenant Board president just messaged me to say a power pole is down and the building is off-grid. You home?
“Fuck,” I whisper and thank the driver before getting out onto the soggy sidewalk. I type back that I just got home, and he tells me that the word is it’ll be off twelve to twenty-four hours.
I swear again and stare up at the dark building. Then I look down the street. Everything everywhere I can see is dark. I walk through the small beach community, rolling my luggage behind me and getting completely soaked by the snow. Some houses have the glow of candles or the creepy, moving light of flashlights behind their curtains. Others have power and a hum coming from behind their homes that tells me they have generators. And one of those homes, I notice as I turn the corner three blocks away, is Landon’s house.
I stand there and stare at it, from the end of the block, growing colder and wetter and more annoyed with each passing second. Finally, I decide to give in, and I don’t even have the strength to chastise myself. By the time I’ve climbed his steps, he’s walked onto the porch in flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Dry and warm and holding a steaming mug of something, like he’s the lead in a cheesy Christmas movie I just stumbled into.
“Change of plans?” he asks, his tone cool and casual.
“Can I squat here? I have no power, and they say it won’t come back for a while.”
“Yeah. Of course.” He walks over, unlocks the screen door, and holds it open. He studies me as I step onto the porch. I’m sure he thinks I look like a drowned rat.
