“This is that fancy NHL life, girl.” Harlowe pulls out her tablet at my mom’s kitchen table to show me the hotel rooms she booked. “The Soundview Hotel. Five-star service. Comes with its own billionaire.”
There’s a photo of Fitzgerald Svensson—hotelier, real estate mogul, owner of the Seattle Orcas. I stare. “Come to mama.”
“Hmm, he’s blond,” my mom says.
“I don’t care if he has tentacles growing out of his head. He’s rich!”
“He’d be lucky to have you.” Mom kisses me on the top of my head.
“Wait, you’re actually sleeping with your players?” My cousin Violet comes over.
“Like, all at once?” my cousin Bella asks.
“Which one has the biggest dick?”
“I bet it’s the new boy, Fletcher.”
“Yummy!”
“That mouth!”
“Do it,” my uncle demands. “Think of the family. I want him on our hockey team, then we can give Ryder a run for his money next family Christmas skate.”
“I don’t think poor Fletcher wants to go up against Ryder again when he’s not even getting paid.” I sigh.
“He got beat up the last time, poor thing,” Aunt Stacy says.
“Did you kiss his bruises and make them better?” Cousin Belle snickers.
Yes, that’s right. I can’t just pack for my work trip like a normal person—my entire family is involved.
“Don’t you all have to work?” My eye is twitching again.
“We had to take mandatory PTO.” One of my aunts sips her wine.
“Your mom said the entire family has to come to Seattle to support you. Everyone wore Direwolves yellow and black last game, and she felt like it wasn’t sufficient support, even thoughsheworks for the Rhode Islanders and didn’t even wear the team colors when she works for the literal team,” Aunt Janet hollers at my mom.
“She doesn’t work for the team,” I say automatically.
“I’m just a volunteer,” my mom trills.
“That’s not how the NHL does it,” my dad mutters as he carries suitcases into the house from the garage in the back. “There aren’t unpaid volunteers. It’s not rec league—it’s professional hockey.”
His sister flips him the bird.
Granny Murray leans in to me. “Don’t listen to him. He barely played for the NHL. He’s jealous.”
“I played for eight years after college.” My dad dumps the suitcases on the floor.
His sister drapes her arm around him. “Don’t listen to him, Ellie. He’s upset you’re around all those big, strong, attractive men—all that naked muscle in the locker room.”
Dad shoves his sister off with a disgusted noise.
My aunt continues. “You get that Swedish fellow. Make a bunch of big blue-eyed babies.”
“He’s Finnish.”
“He’ll make me finish!” My aunt giggles.
