Must Love Dogs...and Hockey

by Kelly Jamieson

  Everyone helps themselves, loading up plates and sitting in various places around the apartment. Easton and I snag seats at the dining room table and dig in. I notice he has a huge serving of the corn casserole I made, and my heart bumps.

  “This is really good,” he says, after tasting it.

  “Thankfully it tastes okay, because it doesn’t look very appetizing.” I tasted it myself at home—oops, I mean at Easton’s place—before bringing it here. If it was horrible it would have gone in the garbage and we would have stopped at the Superette on the way here for bags of chips.

  “It looks fine. It has bacon. You can’t go wrong with bacon.”

  I laugh. “True.”

  We chat with Igor and Nadia, and Owen and Wendel, who sit with us at the table. I love watching Easton interact with his teammates, relaxed and at ease, joking around. They even tease him about his skate lace getting caught in Jamal’s skate and Easton laughs about it. Nobody mentions their coach.

  After dinner, we play a game of Never Have I Ever.

  Layla explains the game to Igor and Nadia. “If you’ve done what the first player says, you have to drink.”

  Igor nods and lifts his glass of vodka.

  Owen goes first. “Never have I ever faked an orgasm.”

  I didn’t expect this to be the sex version of the game.

  I take a sip of my wine.

  “Hey.” Easton nudges my shoulder. “What is that?”

  “Not with you,” I assure him.

  “Okay, good.”

  Igor tosses back his vodka.

  “No, no,” Nadia says. “You drink if you have done it.”

  He meets her eyes.

  “What?” Her mouth drops open.

  “We talk later,” he says, grinning, to much laughter.

  Nadia shakes her head.

  It’s Jamal’s turn. “Never have I ever…had sex in public.”

  We all watch everyone else expectantly. Then Nadia and Igor drink.

  “This game. I will be…hammed,” Igor says with a laugh.

  “Hammered,” Jamal corrects him, grinning.

  Nadia’s turn. “Never have I ever had sex on a boat.”

  Hoots of laughter greet this. I swear almost every guy here takes a drink. I shoot Easton an amused glance.

  “Long time ago,” he says.

  Now it’s his turn. “Never have I ever had sex with someone twice my age.”

  Igor drinks.

  “Oh my God!” Nadia cries.

  “You Russian dog!” Owen says, laughing.

  Igor shrugs and stands. “Need more vodka.”

  My turn. Eeep. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”

  Igor and Nadia drink, and I nearly fall over laughing. They are quite the couple! Also drinking are Owen, Colton, who gets a glare from Layla, and…Easton.

  “It was a long time ago,” he says again.

  “You have quite the wild past,” I say.

  I have to drink as I confess to getting caught watching porn (by Carlin, so it wasn’t that bad) and after the question about anal sex, Easton whispers to me, “We’re both anal virgins.”

  I slide him an amused glance. “Yes.”

  “Maybe we need to get more adventurous.”

  I smirk. “Maybe we do.”

  “Maybe we need to leave right now.”

  I shake my head, laughing.

  It’s not a late night because the guys are traveling to Boston tomorrow. I’m not sure how Igor is going to play after all the vodka he’s consumed, but he actually seems fine. I myself am a wee bit tipsy and I’m glad I have Easton to hold on to as I trip down the sidewalk along Riverside in the dark.

  “That was so much fun,” I say with a happy sigh. “I like your friends.”

  “Good. That was fun.”

  “You had a threesome, but you’ve never had anal sex?”

  He laughs and tightens his arm around my waist. “Forget that.”

  “Was it two women?”

  “Yes. And that’s all I’m saying.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about this. Intrigued…but also, ugh. “Do you want one again?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  He laughs softly. “Really.”

  “Maybe I want a threesome.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Maybe. Also, I may be a little bit drunk. Hey, you know what rhymes with drunk?”

  “What?”

  “Sex.” I jump him, wrapping my legs around him.

  Luckily he’s strong, because it’s a little awkward with us both in jackets. He braces himself with a step back and slides his hands under my ass to hold me up, and he’s laughing again. “Jesus. Let’s go get some sleep. Are you going to be too hungover for morning sex?”

  I snort. “I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

  He groans, lowering my feet to the sidewalk.

  “I totally said that on purpose.” I give him a cheeky grin and slide my arm through his.

  “Right. So I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I like morning sex. Especially with you.”

  We both take Otis out when we get back to his place. The fresh air has made me less tipsy. When we get into bed, I snuggle into him and touch his tattoo. “What is this ink? It looks like a hockey logo.”

  His body tenses and he doesn’t reply right away. Then he clears his throat. “Yeah. That’s the logo for the Swift Current Warriors. I played for them when I was a teenager.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.” I sense he’s waiting for more reaction from me. “Is that who you played for before the NHL?”

  “Yeah.” He pauses. “You haven’t heard of them before?”

  I frown a little, my fingers still tracing the tattoo. “No. Why?”

  He shifts on the bed, tucking me against him, my back to his front, his arm wrapped around my middle. “They were in the news a lot…eight years ago. There was an accident with the team bus.”

  An accident.

  His brother and his dad died in a motor vehicle accident.

  I start to turn, but he holds me in place with his strong arms, like he doesn’t want to face me. “Was that the accident you lost your brother and your dad in?”

  “Yeah.” He coughs. “I was on the bus too. We were on our way to Medicine Hat for a game. It was winter and the roads were bad. A semi slid through a stop sign and T-boned us on the highway.”

  My stomach churns and aches. “Oh no.” I curl my fingers around his taut forearm.

  “Fourteen people died. Including Bryce and my dad. My dad was an assistant coach. Our coach also died, the bus driver died, a guy from the local radio station died, and our athletic therapist died. And nine other players.” He swallows and when he speaks again, his voice sounds like he swallowed broken glass. “Some of the other guys were hurt really bad.”

  “You?”

  “No.” I feel his head movement. “I mean, I had some bruises and I was sore for a while, but nothing serious.”

  I close my eyes and slowly inhale. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been a horrific experience.”

  “Yes. It was.”

  My insides are all knotted and twisted, my chest hot. I don’t know what to say or what to do. I knew he’d lost his dad and his brother, but not like this. And all those other people. It’s so tragic, my eyes sting with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “We had such a fun night, and this is a downer.”

  “It’s okay.” I squeeze his arm. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I asked about it.”

  “No, it’s fine. I…I don’t like to talk about it. Or even think about it. It’s been eight years, but I still get angry about it when I think about how unfai
r it was, all those lives cut short. I actually don’t remember some of it, which I’m told is probably a defense mechanism. But I do remember sitting in the ditch, in the snow, in the dark, holding Bryce…he was hurt so bad and I kept trying to tell him he’d be okay. I told him Dad would find us.” His voice cracks. “I told him we’d get him to a hospital, and he’d be okay. But…he wasn’t okay. He died in the ambulance.”

  “Was he older than you?”

  “Yeah. He was twenty. I was eighteen. I was…going into the NHL draft that spring. Bryce never got drafted, but he was good. He loved hockey. We both did.”

  “And your dad, I bet.”

  “Oh yeah. He was so proud of us. And excited about me going into the draft. The rankings had me going in the first round, so he was super pumped about that.” He stops and breathes. “He never got to see it.”

  “He knows.”

  “Yeah. I believe he does.”

  “And he’s still proud of you.”

  “I wish every day they were still here.”

  “Oh God. I’m sure you do.” I squeeze my eyes shut and a tear slides down my cheek.

  “I lost everything that day,” he adds quietly. “I lost my mom too.”

  I remember him saying that she’d had a breakdown after that. She must have been so devastated.

  “I lost my team.”

  “You didn’t play again?”

  “No. The whole town was wrecked about what happened.”

  “God.”

  “And I lost my two best friends…Josh…they thought he might not make it. He did, but I…really haven’t seen him since then. He plays for the Stars now. And Hunter…he was fine, but he disappeared off the face of the earth for a year and then ended up playing college hockey. I’ve never really talked to them since.”

  His voice is sad, edged with a touch of bitterness.

  Another tear leaks from my eye. “I’m so sorry, Easton.”

  “Yeah.” He rubs his face against my hair. “I’m sorry too.”

  “Was it hard for you to play hockey? After that?”

  For a moment, he doesn’t answer. “No. It wasn’t. I felt like that was all I had left. I would have lost my mind if I couldn’t play hockey. But I did feel…guilty, I guess. That I could play when others couldn’t. When I got drafted, I told myself I was playing for them too.”

  A piercing ache fills my chest. I squeeze his arm tighter. That’s so impressive. There is so much more to this man than I ever realized. To have come through something like that…I see now why sometimes he’s a little cynical.

  It takes me a long time to fall asleep, thinking about what Easton just told me. Even when he’s breathing slowly and rhythmically, sound asleep, I’m wide awake. I keep thinking about him sitting in a dark, snowy ditch, holding his brother, and my heart breaks for him. I think about his dad, and how Easton kept thinking he’d find them. More tears dampen the pillow beneath my cheek. What an incredible tragedy for that team…all those families. And for Easton.

  Chapter 17

  Easton

  Early in December we have a long road trip, a whole week away, playing in Vegas, Santa Monica, Long Beach, and Anaheim. It’s probably a good thing to get a little distance and make sure neither Lilly nor I are getting too caught up in things.

  Since I told Lilly about the bus crash, I’ve felt like things are different between us. She now knows more about me than anyone else here in New York. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. It’s so easy being with someone who gets you, who knows all about you and likes you anyway. But it also makes me feel exposed. Like she knows my biggest weaknesses. It scares the shit out of me.

  It also scares the shit out of me that I think about her all the time.

  I need to take a step back. So this trip is perfect timing.

  Road trips are fun, and Vegas is cool; so is California. The guys all hang out together, which is good for team building.

  Of course, Lilly texts me with pictures and videos of Otis. Sounds like she’s really busy with all her new clients plus having him for a whole week, but she seems happy about that. I’m happy for her, glad that this new business is working out.

  We win our first game in Vegas, which puts Coach in a good mood and things are calm. In Santa Monica, we play great, but end up losing in an overtime shoot-out. Coach isn’t happy about that, but there’s not much he can say about the quality of the game, and we get a point. So far, three out of four road trip points is pretty good.

  We celebrate by going out to a hot club after the game, which I’d normally be down for. When I find myself unenthusiastic, I give myself a stern talking-to. Nothing wrong with having a little fun! So I throw myself into it, tossing back a few drinks and dancing with four different women on the dance floor, the club throbbing with music and light.

  Then I feel guilty, which is stupid, because I’m not in a serious relationship with Lilly and she’s probably out with her girlfriends doing the same thing. Probably. Maybe.

  We have an optional practice on Wednesday and, despite the late night and the drinks, I make myself go. I don’t want to give Coach any reason to be annoyed with me. Last night, he put me back on the first power play unit with Bergie and JBo, and I fucking scored, so he has to be happy with that and I want to keep it that way. After practice, a bunch of us hit the beach, right across from the hotel we stay at in Santa Monica, and enjoy some sun, sand, and beach volleyball. We do a little shopping, and later we go out for a seafood dinner at a restaurant near the pier.

  Sometimes we put all our credit cards in a pile and get the server to pick one and that’s who pays for dinner, but tonight, we’ve decided that the first person who uses the word “dick” will be the one who pays.

  I’m not cheap but I am competitive, so I’m determined not to say that word and I’m going to get someone else to say it. “Hey, Russ, what’s happening with your vasectomy?”

  His head jerks back and everyone else at the table directs their attention on him.

  “You’re getting a vasectomy?” Gunner says. “Whoa.”

  “I’m not getting a vasectomy.” Russ glares at me.

  “Wow, talk about taking one for the team,” Nate says, ignoring Russ.

  “Hey,” Cookie says, smirking. “What do a Christmas tree and a man who’s had a vasectomy have in common?”

  I grin at him. “What?”

  “Ornamental balls.”

  Everyone roars. Except Russ.

  “I’m not having a vasectomy!” he shouts.

  Other diners at nearby tables turn to look at us.

  “Shit,” he mutters, bending his head and rubbing his red face. “I hate you guys.”

  We’re all still laughing.

  “Wait, I’ve got another one,” Cookie says. “If a bluebird has blue babies, a blackbird has black babies, a redbird has red babies, what kind of bird has no babies?” He pauses. “A swallow!”

  This time the laughter is mixed with groans.

  “So, no snip, eh?” I say to Russ.

  “You said ‘eh.’ ” Cookie points at me.

  He likes to bug me about my “Canadian accent.” I roll my eyes. “I can’t help it.” I turn back to Russ. “Anyway, I heard there’s going to be a global condom shortage. You better stock up.”

  “What?” His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

  Cookie backs me up. “I heard that too.”

  “Oh, man.” Russ looks worried.

  Some of the other guys believe me too. “Good thing I just bought a jumbo box,” JBo says.

  I snort. “As if you need jumbo condoms.”

  “Not jumbo as in size. I mean, like, a large box of them.” He scowls when he realizes I’m yanking his chain and we all laugh.

  Dammit, all of that and nobody said “dick.”

  A
while later, Russ gets up to use the men’s room. I motion to Cookie, seated next to him. Russ left his phone sitting on the table. Cookie grins and slides it over to me. Score! He just used it and didn’t lock it.

  The other guys see I’m doing something, but they don’t know what.

  I find myself in Russ’s contacts and change the name to Hannah, then return the phone to the table.

  Cookie tells another joke and everyone’s laughing as Russ returns.

  “What’d I miss?” he asks as he takes his seat.

  “This dick,” Cookie says.

  Everyone roars and points at him.

  “Dinner’s on you!” I’m laughing so hard.

  “Well, shit.” Cookie shakes his head.

  “Good, good,” Russ says, elbowing Cookie. “Thought maybe I missed something big.”

  “Ha ha ha.”

  I casually pick up my phone and send Russ the text I already composed. Hey honey, we need to talk. I might be pregnant.

  I lift my glass of water and take a sip while watching him pick up his phone when it pings. He reads the message he thinks is from Hannah. His jaw goes slack and his face pales. He swipes a hand across his forehead and mutters, “Shit.”

  I swallow my laughter. Cookie turns to Russ. “What’s up, man? You don’t look so good.”

  “I…” He swallows. “Hannah says she might be pregnant.”

  I slowly shake my head. “See? Shoulda had the big snip.” Then I can’t contain it any longer and burst out laughing. As does everyone else.

  Russ lifts his head, looks around, and realizes he’s been had. He throws his napkin at me across the table. I catch it easily, still chortling.

  If only the team could be like this all the time. We get along great. We have lots of talented players and some big chemistry. But the tension Coach creates with his temper and abuse isn’t bringing out the best in us. It pisses me off. I hate feeling so helpless to fix something that’s making me crazy.

  Lilly

  Carlin and I are Christmas shopping at the Columbus Circle Holiday Market, bundled up against the chill, although it’s not a bad day for December. I’ve picked out gifts for Grammy and Mom, Adriana and Maya. Maya’s Muslim and doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but the four of us have always exchanged gifts at Christmas. Next week I’m going to pop back to pick up the silver bracelet that Carlin was admiring at one of the stalls.