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She holds up her hand and starts counting on her fingers. “Okay, let’s think about this. Cole is moving into David’s room with him because there’s two real beds already in there. And Brandon and Ryan can sleep on the pullout in the living room. You and the dog”—she pauses and points at me, then takes Shutzie from my dad so she can hold him—“I’m putting in Brandon’s room because there’s only one bed. So where do we put Nikolai?”

“In Brandon’s room with me and Shutzie,” I say, like the answer is obvious.

“That won’t be strange?” my mom asks.

“No,” I say, offended. “Why would it?”

Cole raises an eyebrow at me, and Dad rises and shakes his head. He grabs the back of the air mattress and lifts it to hover off the ground. “Come on, Cole,” he says. “I’ll help you with this.”

“It’s not heavy,” Cole says. “I’ve got it.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to help you anyway.”

“See,” I say. “It’s fine. Plenty of space for everyone.”

My mom places Shutzie on the ground. He runs to chase after my dad, Cole, and the air mattress. As they round the corner, my mom reaches and places her palm on my cheek. She looks up at me with a soft expression. “My sweet boy.” She pats my cheek. “Go get those beds made before your brothers and Nikolai arrive.”

“Yes, Mom,” I say, exaggerating it to sound like a kid again.

She swats me with the dish towel that’s hanging off her shoulder then goes back to the kitchen. The pot roast she’s making smells delicious. My mouth is already watering. I hope Nikolai enjoys it.

“It’s a little cramped in here,” my dad says when I enter the room with the sheets. Shutzie has made his way to his bed in the corner where he’s chewing on a toy.

There’s about a foot of space between the bed and the air mattress. This bedroom is the smallest in the house. The walk-in closet in my apartment is bigger than this room. But growing up it never felt quite this small. Granted, this was Brandon’s room for the summers and then our billets’ for the rest of the year when the Hodags season was going on. But even when Brandon and I would share the bigger bedroom, there was maybe only three feet of space between the beds.

What can I say? It’s a small house. A classic Midwest bungalow, perfect for a family like ours. I love that I can always come home to it for the holidays and the offseason.

But looking around the room, I’m suddenly struck with how close Nikolai and I will be sleeping next to each other. I gulp as my heart begins to race and sweat beads form on my neck. I’m both excited and nervous about the close proximity. I like Nikolai. More than as a friend. And that’s terrifying. But also comforting. And exhilarating. And well, yes, if he feels the same, which is doubtful, oh so perfect.

When he sees the sleeping arrangements will he be happy, or mortified? Will he care? Or will I be moving this air mattress to the dining room so he can have this tiny ass bedroom to himself?

Please, whatever god I can pray to who’s listening, hockey or heavenly, make it so Nikolai doesn’t mind. Just the thought of sleeping in another room when he’s not only in the same state, but also the same goddamn house, sounds awful.

I miss him. Even though I talk to him almost every day. I miss being around him. And most of all, I crave something more. I want to be physically near him. I want to feel his thigh pressed against mine. His hand on my forearm. I want to body check him with my shoulders, but also wrap my arms around his. And all of that can be deflated out of me like a puncture to this mattress if he walks in here, takes one look at his room, then declares he’s out.

I’m pushing the final pillow into its pillowcase when I hear the back door of the house open on the other side of this bedroom wall.

“Mom! Dad!” Brandon’s voice calls out. “We’re here!”

Nikolai

Logically I know what to expect when it comes to spending time with Bouchards. Granted, Brandon, who I spend the most in-person time with, is the tamest of the bunch. So perhaps it is possible that I had forgotten what a full Bouchard ambush looks like.

Hugging. Lots of hugging. And now a little barking dog to accompany all the noise.

Momma B grabs me first. Big Mike has gotten ahold of Ryan. And Brandon yelps as Ander bursts through the door leading from the room beside the kitchen and tackles him to the ground. He’s rubbing his knuckles onto Brandon’s scalp while Shutzie licks all over the side of Brandon’s face.

Off to the side, I see the Bouchards’ two billets, David and Cole, pressed against the countertop like they’re holding it up. Maybe they are. The amount of affection being thrown around this house, if people aren’t careful, could be a wrecking ball.

“Nikolai.” Momma B squeezes my arms flush to my sides with her arms while she hugs me. “It’s good to have you here. Sorry for the chaos.”

“It is not chaos,” I say as she pulls back slightly and looks up at me wearing a warm motherly smile. It’s the kind of smile I haven’t seen often in my own life, and it warms my heart now, despite me not really knowing how to respond to it. “Thank you for having me.”

“Quit hogging him,” Big Mike says, prompting her to release me from her grasp. She immediately pulls Ryan into her arms. “Nikolai.” Big Mike holds his hand out for me. I shake it.

“Ander, get your giant ass off me,” Brandon grumbles. “And someone come get this furry demon.”

“He’s not a demon!” Ander protests. “He’s an angel.”