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“Guys, I live about two blocks from here,” Shaun said as we huddled under the old marquee, hands cold, breath fogging in front of us. “My dad’s away, and Mom will be cool with it, so why don’t you all just text your parents and ask them if you can sleep over. This way, they can come get you tomorrow when the roads are plowed.”
We all thought that sounded great. Mom wasn’t keen on last-minute changes in plans, but also, not keen on driving to get me in a snow storm or leave me on a city bus with a driver that was in a hurry to get home before the snow got too deep.
Mom:If I get a text from Shaun’s mother saying it’s okay, then okay with us. You don’t have any clean underwear.
I looked up from my mother’s text to see the other guys all staring at their phones.
“My mom is worried about me not having clean underwear,” I said, and everyone laughed and said, “Mine too!”
Fifteen minutes later, we were all at Shaun’s house, a big split-level with a massive, finished basement his mom hurried to set up for the influx of hockey players. His mom was super pretty and made some killer nachos, plus his dad wasn’t there, which meant we could relax away from hockey. We spread out on the floor, blankets and old sleeping bags, sodas all over, as well as bags of chips and cheesy puffs. Midnight came and went. We were all talking, joking, and eating as much junk as we could. It was perfect. And through it all, Tyler was curled up at my side, sharing kisses and Snickers, feeding me cold nachos.
When I finally dozed off around three in the morning, I did so with Tyler’s bubblegum-pink head on my chest. The other guys were out cold, a few snoring softly, a few others whispering in the dark as the muted lights from their phones lit their faces.
I’d never felt more accepted in my life, or more in love. I couldn’t wait for school to start up again so that I could show off the new and improved Jonah Robinson. I hoped everyone liked him. I know I did.
ChapterEighteen
Tyler
The new Railerstraining facility in Dauphin was a temple to Railers hockey, and the most cutting edge thing I’d ever seen. Everything sparkled as new, silver, and the familiar dusky blue colors everywhere from the ice to the wall and into the locker rooms. Huge photos of the Railers’ stars adorned the lobby, and it was weird to see Soren’s dad standing right under his enormous photo. He looked so normal, in jeans and a Railers hoodie, but in the photo above, he was in the middle of shooting on goal and every line of him was perfect.
I will not crush on Soren’s dad.
Everyone was just like me, church-quiet, soaking in every little bit of this pristine place, and staring up at their favorite player, and for a moment, Ten, along with Railers D-Man Dieter Lehman, stared at us, arms folded across their chests. It didn’t last long, because both men dropped the pretense at being in control of anything and ushered us through to the locker rooms. We scrambled to get to cubbies, and I was faster than Soren at getting to the space with his dad’s name on it. I never knew that training facilities had named cubbies, but you bet I was going to steal my favorite player’s space.
“Not cool, dude,” Soren whined and threw puppy eyes at Ten, who was in deep conversation with Shaun.
“You snooze you lose,” I deadpanned, and Soren laughed so loud that Ten came over to ask what was going on, which made me go scarlet, I was sure of it.
“My cubby,” Soren pointed and pouted up at his dad.
“N’aw,” Ten said and side-hugged his son. “I knew I was your favorite.”
“Only because Shaun beat me to Adler’s space,” Soren said with a wink, which earned him a noogie, which was fun to watch because, jeez, his dad was strong.
We got dressed for this amazing training experience—who else got to go out on actual NHL training ice. Not this guy, anyway.
“Have I said how much I love that your dad is Tennant Madsen-Rowe?” Felix sauntered over all kinds of casual, then sneaked a brief kiss with Soren.
I shoved at Felix. “No macking in the locker room!”
Felix snorted a laugh, Soren rolled his eyes, and they both pointed at Jonah, who was lurking by the door staring up at the logo of the Railers team and taking photos. When Soren suggested he come with us—the resident photographer for everything—I was way past excited that he would be here for what promised to be the most perfect morning ever. He’d also gotten permission to photograph both the professional players, with the proviso that they got to check the images first, but I knew every shot he captured would be perfect.
“Do you know why we’re called the Harrisburg Railers?” Dieter asked Jonah, who jumped a mile because he’d been so focused on what he was doing. Shoulders back, he stood to attention, and I would have smiled, but he was wide-eyed. There was nothing scary about Dieter—he was big, yes, but he had a way about him that was gentle, even if he was a big hard defenseman.
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“Okay, you research that, then write me a two thousand word essay to be completed by the end of practice today.”
Jonah’s bottom lip fell. “Of course, sir.”
Dieter nodded, then fake-punched Jonah’s arm. “Kidding. We’re called the Railers because Harrisburg was where the steel was produced for some of the first steel rails for the railroad.” He pointed to his jersey with its train logo. “Cool, right?”
Jonah blinked up at Dieter, and his smile blossomed in front of my eyes. “So cool,” he said, and I think I was witnessing the beginning of a serious case of hero worship. Now, if Dieter liked taking photographs as well, then…
“What’s your name?” Dieter asked.
“Oh. Jonah, I’m Jonah.”
