As soon as we stepped foot through the doors, I was hit with loud voices. Even though it was training camp, the entire team was here, per Coach’s rules. The space was packed with players headed for the showers and getting changed to go home, everyone in a different state of undress.
Grabbing the back of my wet shirt, I tugged it up and over my head and dropped it on the chair in front of my cubby. The air conditioner in the building was on max, making my sweat-soaked skin pebble with goosebumps. Isnatched the headband I kept in my locker and slid it on to pull my wet hair off my forehead.
“Want to go grab something to eat?” Jake asked next to me, stripping out of his own clothes. Having been in locker rooms for a better part of my life, I didn’t even bat an eye at the men changing around me.
“Sorry, can’t. I’m meeting my brothers for lunch.”
“Can I tag along?” Perry interjected.
“Why?”
“Dude, your brother is a legend. Best hockey player of all time, so, yeah, I want to tag along.”
“Still fangirling over my brother, I see.” I raised an eyebrow at Perry, who nodded, not at all ashamed.
“Yes.”
He wasn’t the first fanatic my older brother had, and he wouldn’t be the last. I’d long gotten used to Wyatt’s fame. It came with the territory of being the younger brother to a world-famous hockey player.
“You know, at some point the fangirling turns into being just pure crazy.” The last part came out muffled as I pulled on a clean shirt.
“I didn’t get a chance to have him sign my hockey jersey.”
My comment went right over Perry’s head. “I’ll see if he wants to drop by practice tomorrow.” Perry gave me a fist bump.
Jake laughed on the other side of me. “It’s like he’s eight years old.”
While the two of them chatted away, I made quick work of changing into a pair of athletic shorts, along with my shoes. I was hoping to have enough time to get home and shower before meeting my brothers.
Grabbing my bag, car keys, and phone, I started for the exit. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
“Say hi to your brother for me!” Perry called after me,earning him a middle finger over my shoulder. I tapped the shoulders of a few guys I passed on the way out, more than happy to be done for the day. Back-to-back training days weren’t for the weak.
As I reached my black Range Rover, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My other older brother’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hey, Landon. I’m just leaving practice.”
“Still okay to grab lunch?”Landon’s voice sounded a bit muffled as others echoed in the background.
“Yeah. The usual place?” I shoved my bag in the backseat before I slid behind the wheel.
“Yep. Text me when you’re close.”
I started to say something in return, but then I heard a small squeal and the call ended. I grinned and shook my head. I was used to the sudden hanging up these days.
I wasted no time pulling out of the stadium parking lot and headed in the direction of my apartment. It’d only been a month since I’d seen my brothers, but I knew with the upcoming season I’d be lucky to see them only once or twice.
Going from seeing them and my mom every day to once every few months was a huge change when I entered the league. When you grew up with a tight-knit family, it was hard not having them constantly around. It’s been two years since I was drafted, but it still hasn’t gotten easier.
The ride home was short, my high rise about four miles from the practice field. It was the one big splurge I made when I got my first paycheck from the league. With public scrutiny growing, I was grateful I decided to buy the penthouse in a high-end building that had security.
I wasn’t new to being in the public eye. It came with having a famous brother and then going number one in the draft. I’d had eyes on me since I was in high school, but now with a Legacy Championship win, it's grown ten-fold.There’s been a few occasions where the doorman had to stop women from entering the building.
Probably didn’t help I just did a photoshoot for Men’s Magazine. Although, even I had to admit that the shirtless picture gracing the front cover looked pretty damn good. The amount of female fans that came from it has been wild. When my brothers saw it, they joked it was the Boone genes that deserved the attention.
I greeted the front doorman with a grin. “Hey, Edwin.”
“Mateo.” He smiled back. The sixty-year-old had been with the building the last thirty years and was probably one of the nicest guys I’d ever met. He went out of his way to always say hello and even snuck me candy bars on a weekly basis. Pretty sure I was his favorite. “How did practice go?”
