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Hughes’ backyard was the size of a football field. When he’d said “obstacle course,” Nolan had assumed a few hula hoops to hop through, a bean bag toss, maybe an A-frame climbing wall.

But this was a professional setup for two.

“Hey, man,” Zanetti greeted from nearby, and “Yo!” came from Matty Coates, and “Glad you made it” from Prinnie.

And with that greeting, Nolan felt a tad less out of place among these guys.

“Nolan!” Eli called from where he stood off to the left with three other Trailblazers. “Hey, Nolan!” And he was obviously a little tipsy. “Would you rather be doused in blue Gatorade or red Gatorade?”

Nolan narrowed his gaze. Was this a hazing thing? Was he supposed to choose one and be grateful when a bucket of clothes-staining liquid was lifted over his head?

He looked around, then up in case something was rigged above him.

As if reading his mind, Eli said, “It’s a hypothetical question.”

“No comment,” Nolan said. “I’m not giving you fuel for a later date.”

Eli cackled. “The consensus was blue,” he said when Nolan approached.

“Why blue?”

“Tastes better,” Deeley said with a lazy shrug as he rubbed his hands together against the cold.

Along with Eli and Deeley, there were Prinnie and Matty Coates, the latter of whom was in a T-shirt. Because goalies didn’t feel the cold?

Nolan nodded at the obstacle course. “What’s happening here?”

“We all ran the course, and now the two guys with the best times”—Eli nodded at CC and Sandro Zanetti, who stood at the starting line—“are going head-to-head for the title of Obstacle Course Master to win the ultimate prize.”

“Which is?”

“A case of beer,” Deeley said.

“And a gift certificate to the golf course,” Prinnie added.

“And.” Eli waggled his eyebrows. “Mr. Wiggles. Behold.” He moved aside, and sitting on a table behind him was a pink, ratty stuffed bear with a half-chewed ear and a missing eye.

Nolan grimaced. “What the fuck is that?”

“Mr. Wiggles. I just said.”

As in the “person” Eli had been cuddling with at Zanetti’s last year?

Nolan had been jealous of a stuffed bear. “Mr. Wiggles is utterly disgusting.”

“Shhhh,” Deeley said, covering the bear’s ears.

“Has he ever been washed?” Nolan asked.

“Recently,” Eli said. “Zanetti put him through the wash during the summer ’cause his niece dunked him in lemonade.”

“What?” CC exclaimed as though Eli had said Mr. Wiggles had been dunked in a tub of lighter fluid and then set on fire. “Zanetti, what the fuck? Lemonade?”

Zanetti sighed. “Eli, did I or did I not swear you to secrecy?”

“Oh.” Eli’s cheeks flushed. “Oops.” He stared into his empty red Solo cup. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

Nolan kissed him. He couldn’t not. Eli was so fucking cute. He didn’t care that he was outing them to the entire team and that it might make them hesitant to speak with him honestly for his culture audit. The smart ones would understand that he wasn’t here to bare their secrets, just do a job.