“It's for sale, but it's a lot.”
“I bet. How much?”
“Let's just say I'm not sure George would even letmebuy it.”
Yikes. Thatisa lot.
But as we open the door, I can see why immediately. The floors are a honey-brown hardwood – none of the luxury vinyl of Ethan's current place. The place feels airy and light, with light coming through the windows facing the street.
The kitchen here is huge, with a refrigerator so large only a hockey player could hope to fill it. We walk up the stairs and I run my hand along the beautiful bannister. On the second story, there are multiple bedrooms, including two connected by a jack-and-jill bathroom. From the window of one, I can see a direct view of the park.
“The master suite is on the third floor, and the basement has room for gym equipment. There's even a little garden out back.” Ethan has entered the room behind me, a distant look on his face. I hear the wistfulness in his voice, and suddenly I know very clearly why we are here. This is his dream house – the dream Ethan's been denying himself for decades.
And I wonder...who else even knows about this dream? Am I the first person he's shared this with? I walk over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. As I catch his eye, I swear I see unshed tears there.
“It's lovely, Ethan.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ETHAN
In the end,Jamie picks the loft apartment. It seems to take a while for him to make the decision, but the idea of buying new furniture and decorating the bigger space at this point in the season ends up being the deciding factor.
The unit is available at the beginning of December, so we make plans as a team to help him move after our next road trip. Over the course of a few flights, he picks out furniture on the IKEA website – kitchen stuff, rugs, couches, and a king-sized bed for the loft.
I try not to picture him in the king-sized bedtoooften.
I was worried about how he'd react after our sexting adventures in Vancouver, but he's clearly decided to pretend it never happened. I wish I could do the same, but I find myself skipping my usual hookups on the road in favor of my right hand and picturing him on the ice.
The Sunday after we return from the road trip – on which we pick up two wins and an overtime loss, further cementing our place at the top of the division – we gather at Jamie's new apartment. Some ofthe married guys have brought paintbrushes and ladders, while the rookies show up with cases of beer in hand.
Jamie's new Subaru is already parked on the street outside, so we head to the door and knock. He comes to let us in and ushers us up the half-flight of stairs to the inside of the loft. As he shows the other guys around, they ooh and aah over the high ceilings and natural light.
“Damn, Cap! I’m gonna talk to you before I get a place!” says Matty, who is still paying a lease on an apartment in Des Moines.
“I’m a little surprised you picked this neighborhood, Cap.” Nate Sutter, our first-line center and my assistant captain says quietly next to me.
Sutter is from Minneapolis originally, so he may have caught on to what the others have missed in terms of Loring Park's history.
“Oh?” Sutter's never seemed overtly homophobic, but the bar is low in this sport, and I can never be sure.
“Yeah. You seemed pretty...un-chill...about the gay thing earlier this season. You know this is kind of a...gayborhood, right?” Oh. Oh, shit. He thinksI'mthe homophobic one.
I mean, he's got a point.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I was kind of a dickhead earlier, blaming stuff on Carter instead of the press. I think...I hope we're in a better place now.”
He gives me a small upnod, and leaves with a quiet, “Good.”
We spend the first hour moving around the boxes and luggage from Jamie's car and cataloging any repairs the place needs. At noon, the IKEA delivery arrives and suddenly fifteen grown-ass men are competitively assembling flat-pack furniture in the living space. Afraid I'll lose an eye to an Allen wrench, I help Jamie with the kitchen stuff – unpackaging it, washing it, and putting it away.
“You know the first time my mom comes, she's gonna reorganize all of this.” he says as he puts away something that resembles a Medieval torture device.
“Oh yeah? You think she'll visit often?” My dad never comes,although he requires a visit every time the team is in New York City for more than twelve consecutive hours.
“I mean, probably. She's a teacher, so I'll probably see her more in the summer, but she'll come up whenever she can. Benefits of being an only child.”
“Mm.” I, too, am an only child, but I can't say I've ever thought of it as anadvantage.
