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“Yeah?” Nolan said from a few feet away. He looked like he was unsure whether or not Eli wanted him to touch him.
“I think I need a reset.”
“What does that mean?”
Eli ran a hand through his hair and yanked, the product in it sticky against his skin. “I came here to play hockey.”
“Yes.”
“So . . .” Leaving his dress shoes by the door, Eli then walked into the kitchen and left his blazer on the island. “Why haven’t I been playing hockey? Why have I been so focused on doing all this other—” He waved a hand uselessly. “—stuff?”
“I don’t know.” Nolan leaned against the back of the couch, giving Eli space. “Why have you?”
“Because I want to stay here,” Eli blurted. “I love it here. I love my teammates and my arena and my cute townhouse and the fans and even Vermont winters. I don’t want to get traded or demoted back to the Groundbreakers. I want to stay here. I want to be a Sandro Zanetti or an Owen Cotton, one of those players who lasts more than a decade with the same team. I thought that the only way I got to belong here long-term was to be everything to everyone, to say yes to every opportunity that came up so that everyone would see that I’m invaluable. And they’d want to keep me here.” He slumped against the island. “But I’ve been going about it all wrong.”
Nolan tilted his head. “How so?”
“The other day, Friedle accused me of not putting hockey first.” Eli turned on the oven for the pizzas. He was starving. “I denied it, but he was right. I haven’t been.”
“What are you going to do then?”
“One thing I realized at this event tonight is that it didn’t have to be me. Any one of my teammates could’ve handled it. So I’m going to talk to Jen on Monday. Ask her to take me off any engagement activities—or at least reduce them to a more manageable level.” He put the pizzas in the oven and set a timer. “And then I’ll talk to Friedle about scheduling that extra practice he’s been on me about.” Eli turned to find out what Nolan had to say about that and found him grinning. “What? Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“I was going to say something similar to you earlier.” Nolan rose and joined him in the kitchen. “But you were too frazzled as you were getting ready. I’m glad you figured it out on your own though. Now I don’t have to worry about you shooting the messenger. Aka me.”
Eli pretended to glare at him. “Asshole.” He took in Nolan’s outfit again. “I want your T-shirt,” he said and unbuttoned his own shirt. He flung it aside.
Smirking, Nolan pulled off his shirt and then put it on Eli like he was a child.
“I want your pants too. They look cozy.”
Nolan removed those as well, leaving him in boxer briefs, and soon the joggers were on Eli’s legs.
And they were just as cozy as he’d imagined.
Unable to help himself, Eli hopped into Nolan’s arms, wrapped his arms and legs around him, and buried his face in his neck.
“Feel better?” Nolan asked, a hint of laughter to his voice.
“Just one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Who the fuck schedules an event like this for the day after Thanksgiving? Isn’t it, like, the most sacred of American holidays?”
Nolan laughed, the sound booming around the house and burrowing into Eli’s heart, and toppled them onto the couch.
chapter
seventeen
Dear Annie,
Last week, you got headhunted for a better paying position at a larger school where advancement to vice principal, and one day, principal, wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
You were so uninterested that you didn’t even care to meet with the recruiter.
“I like my job,” you said while we window shopped in the Church Street Marketplace. “I like the other teachers. I like my students. I like the school. Sure, a position as VP one day isn’t guaranteed, but why does a title matter if I’m already doing what I love?”
