“You planning on telling the team?”
I can tell he doesn’t want to seem discouraging, but the fear is in his voice.
“Not now. Not…yet.”
I’m thrilled to hear Jamie tack on thatyet. So far, he’s been pretty averse to telling the team, and I know a lot of it has been worry over their reaction. I’m hoping that today – the combination of playersalreadyhaving a problem with me and then these friends supporting us – will help him see. I don’t need the approval of people whose opinions mean so little to me.
“We’ve gotta focus on the playoffs. And the team. And building…building something between us that can last.”
There, around a dining room table I’ve never used, filled with friends I didn’t know I had, I realize that’sexactlywhat I’m doing.
Building something to last.
EPILOGUE
ETHAN
June
I wakeup in my downtown apartment for the final time on a morning in mid-June. I stretch my arms over my head, still feeling tightness in my low back from the muscle I pulled in the conference finals.
The Huskies fought hard through the first two rounds of the playoffs, even managing a sweep in our series against Dallas. I’d expected to hear something from Trent during the series, but he’d mostly kept himself as far from me as possible. Unfortunately, a few mild injuries piled up and by the third round, we were struggling to keep our roster in good shape. Still, it was better than anyone had ever predicted for the Huskies this year and the boys are entering the summer with renewed energy.
Next to me, Jamie moans and buries his head under his pillow. This was his first time living through the absolute chaos that isthe playoffs and in the ten days since we were eliminated, he's been sleeping like it's his full time job. Right now, it pretty much is.
I lean over and kiss his back.
“Babe, we've got about an hour before the guys show. I'll hop in the shower and get some breakfast ready, okay?”
He moans again and I make a note to check back in on him in fifteen minutes.
As I heat up the shower, I check on my phone. Sure enough, Alexei has sent out a reminder in the group chat, and I see at least seven or eight confirmations already. I rinse off quickly, knowing I'll need a more thorough shower when this day is done. In the kitchen, I start the coffee machine then grab the last fruits in the fridge and throw them in a blender along with some yogurt, ice, and protein powder. Once the protein shakes are done, I pour one into Jamie's favorite cup, grab a mug of coffee, and walk it into the bedroom.
He's in almost the same position I left him in, although his head is now undermypillow. I sit next to his hip, rubbing his back.
“Sweetheart, it’s time to get up. It’s moving day.”
He moans, but his breathing turns shallower, and I can tell he’s pulling himself back to consciousness.
After returning to Minneapolis in February after the All Star break, one of the first things I did was call my financial advisor and make plans to buy the house in Loring Park. For a moment, we thought I was too late — the owners had had another offer made pending inspection. Luckily, I’ve played hockey well enough and for long enough that I had the money to make that issue go away. By March, I owned the house outright.
Still, March is not the time for a professional hockey player to move; instead, I’ve had tradesmen in and out over the past few months, refinishing the floors and painting the walls. Today, the movers are coming, and the boys will meet us at the house to help unpack boxes.
I think back to the last time I helped someone move — the same someone who is waking up naked in my bed right now. That was thefirst night we slept together, and if you had told me then where I'd be six months later, I'd never have believed it.
It hasn’t been perfect. The press has been absolutely insane, only getting louder and more insistent as the team continued to win. It’s a relief to know that the only press obligations I have this summer are ones Jack has arranged, with friendly journalists interested in asking the right questions. Sam Montgomery has been contracted by Sports Illustrated for a cover article, which I’m almost looking forward to.
Finally, Jamie makes an effort to sit up, his blond curls falling in his eyes. He pushes his hair back, then blinks his eyes open.
“Coffee?”
I hand the mug over, sitting quietly while he wakes up. These are the moments I've most enjoyed this year – seeing the little pieces of Jamie that no one else gets to. How he's barely human before his first cup of coffee, or how his feet are always cold. The sex is still great, but these are the things that make our relationship feel real.
“What do we need to do before the movers arrive?”
He's perked up a bit, and I trade the empty coffee mug for the protein shake.
“You pretty much just need to get dressed. I'll throw the blender in the last kitchen box and the sheets and toothbrushes in the suitcase. Then we should be ready.”
