Not that I’m complaining. Fucking love Brussels with a balsamic drizzle and whatever the hell else he’s got in this bowl.
“Don’t knock it till ya try it.” The man in question bumps his hip against mine as he peruses the rest of the table with an already full plate.
“Is that how you pulled the wife?”
I load extra sprouts on my plate next to a watermelon salad O’Brien tells me is a recipe which came from the Morrison household in Minnesota. It’s got feta and some green leaf shit in it.
“What book is it this month?” How Jeremy has managed to balance so much food on his plate is anyone’s guess.
“Pippa Grant’sThe Gossip and the Grump.” It’s Lincoln Scott from the Minnesota Snow Pirates who answers, a spoonful of potato salad poised mid-way to his mouth as he picks up one of the twins’ copies and waves it.
Ares clears his throat. “This is serious shit too. I don’tknow many of you out of towners, but if you fuck with my book club, you’re out.” He jerks a thumb at the door.
It’s hard not to laugh. When Justin started this book club, many of us joined to support him, or out of curiosity, but now it’s part of our life. Reading our monthly books gives us space to decompress, and talking about them around a table gives us time to be together that isn’t at the gym, class, or on the ice.
By the time we get into the discussion about Sabrina and Grey, Pippa Grant’s inclusivity and diversity—including a character called Zen with they/them pronouns—and the way she includes a fun pet or animal in each book, Jeremy is in.
He’s moved himself away from the main discussion with Apollo’s copy of the book and a giant plate of food and is reading in one of the seats in the living room. Finn’s right there in the armchair next to him. The two poke their heads up every now and then to chat about something on the page and it’s the most wholesome thing I’ve seen in a while.
By the end of the night, some of our visitors have picked up some of Pippa’s backlist, namely her hockey romances. Jake has sent a group chat to the Flames asking if anyone wants to start a book club, and damn near everyone’s leaving with a box of food. Because while a bunch of college athletes would usually devour every damn thing in sight so nothing is left to take home, we’ve been beaten by this spread.
Austin sits at the table with the de la Peñas, while Linc and Finn leave with our rookies. Jake heads back for curfew, taking Tate’s copy of the book with him. He tried to take Scott’s, but learned pretty damn quickly that he doesn’t let anyone borrow his perfectly annotated copies.
AJ beckons me into the living room as people start leaving. Jeremy’s asleep on the couch cuddling Bacon, our team’s potbellied pig mascot. And Ares’s cat, Puck, is curled up behind his knees.
Book club is an all-family affair.
“Wanna talk about it?”
A shake of my head seems to have been expected when AJ nods in reply. “I never did either, at first.”
“It’s like talking about hockey in anything but a good light is frowned upon. It’s all good, all the time. You know?”
AJ takes a slow drink from his non-alcoholic beer. “It’s a scary thing to do, speak up when things aren’t going well. But once you do, it feels better. Like whatever was blocking the back of your throat and weighing down your shoulders is gone.”
He levels me with a sympathetic stare. “Why do you play?”
My mouth falls open to reply, but no words come out.
He holds up his hand. “I don’t want to hear why you feel you should play, Raffi. I don’t want whatever you’ve conditioned your brain to believe. Hell, I don’t even need the answer. But don’t lie to yourself. The hesitation just now… You might try to fool me, but you can’t fool yourself.”
Heat coats my skin as embarrassment curdles in my stomach. I hate being so transparent, so obvious. He’s right, though. I was going to give him the “I play because I love hockey,” answer, even if it’s not the entire truth.
He stares out Apollo’s penthouse window into the darkness. “Raffi, life’s too short to do something that doesn’t hold your whole heart. If you’re not playing because it’s the thing you think about from the second you open your eyes to the moment your head hits the pillow, then you can reevaluate.”
Without looking at him, I say the words that have been festering in my chest since Tori confirmed my suspicions. “I have a son.”
I steal a glance at his profile. His brows flinch, but that’s it.
“He’s two. I didn’t know about him because I lost my memory of his mom.”
His body sags next to me. “That’s not good, Raf. You’vetaken some heavy hits since then too. And you’re slowing down on the ice.”
Telling it like it is stings like fuck when the words land. He’s not wrong. No amount of time at the gym with Phil or extra ice time is making it easier to keep up.
“Not enough to get benched, but I follow your stats. You’re approaching a crossroads.”
“I have to play.” My voice is quiet. I don’t want to wake up his friend on the couch or draw attention to anything more than a casual conversation happening in the living room. I don’t want my teammates to lose their faith in me.
