Dear Roomie

by Kate Meader

  “There’s no …” Reid arced his gaze over the remaining group, feeling very dumb and very much the center of attention. “I don’t need an intervention. Kennedy and I are not a couple.”

  “But you want to be. She’s a nice kid, great with Cooper who, believe me, is no picnic. Sadie likes her, too,” Gunnar said around his cookie chewing. “Damn, I hope Kershaw brings back more than one.”

  “I don’t need—listen, that’s not the point. If one person is all in and the other is not, you can’t make it happen.”

  “So, who’s all in here?” Remy asked.

  He shifted against the counter and muttered, “I am.”

  Remy sniffed. “Just checkin’.”

  Foreman looked amused. “What’s the problem, then?”

  “She’s not. All in, that is. She’s not even somewhat in. She’s got one foot on a plane somewhere because she’s a commitment-phobe who refuses to settle. Which is fine. She would never choose me anyway.”

  “Why not?” Petrov’s deep, accented voice made Reid jump. He shrugged unapologetically when Reid turned. “Heard we were doing an intervention.”

  “We’re not—”

  “I got a selection.” Theo placed a tray of cookies on the counter and all but Reid went to town on them. “Remy, it looks like you’ve run out of the snickerdoodles. What’d I miss?”

  “Durand didn’t expect Kennedy to choose him, for some reason.” Foreman took a bite out of a chocolate-chip cookie that looked soft and chewy, and moaned a little. “Go on, Durand. Your captain wants to know why.”

  Reid scowled at him, slid a glance to Petrov, and took a breath. “Even if she was inclined to stick around, I’m not the kind of guy she would go for. Sure, in some ways, we work—”

  “Sex, I’m guessin’,” Theo mumbled, his mouth full of gingerbread cookie.

  Reid ignored him. “We’re not compatible. She thinks everything can be fixed with a smile and a nice chat about our feelings. But nothing is that simple. There are personalities involved, conflicting personalities. I’m not the kind of guy who can make her happy.”

  Or stay.

  Gunnar frowned. “Did she say that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “So that’s what you think,” Remy said in a tone that said it wasn’t up for discussion. “Which is good because that’s half the battle right there. Knowing you have a problem.” He turned and pulled—ah, fuck—a bottle of tequila from a cupboard. “Grab the glasses from that cabinet over there, Vad. We’ve got work to do here.”

  Reid had been on his way out. He had a flight to Toronto at 9 a.m. so he could see his mother and have her fuss over him and feed him something not in his diet and tell him he was her co-favorite son. He sent a longing glance at the kitchen door, which looked about as far away as his peace of mind right now.

  Someone put a gingerbread cookie in one hand, a shot of liquor in the other, and one, two, three, bombs away …

  Thirty-four minutes later …

  Remy had trooped them all into his study, which was really just an office with comfortable leather sofas, a TV, and his many trophies. Over the last half hour, the guys had all offered their own takes on Reid’s situation. Bond was of the opinion that Reid might need to work on himself (no shit). Remy thought that Reid should make a grand gesture—apparently everything was solved with a grand fucking gesture. About ten minutes in, Jorgenson appeared, looking no happier than he had during that exchange with Casey. His solution: food. Always food.

  “I think we need to look at this from Kennedy’s point of view.” Theo held up his empty shot glass as if he expected the tequila fairy to fill it. “Hockey is fucking dangerous, man. Maybe she’s freaked out by Duracell’s elbow-to-the-face action. We could have done with you on the ice last night, by the way.”

  Reid didn’t have time to enjoy Kershaw’s compliment because Petrov was weighing in.

  “You think that’s why she won’t fight for Durand? You don’t think that maybe she’s just doing it to make him suffer?”

  Petrov’s Law said that women enjoyed making men miserable and it was men’s fate to endure until their women came around. Weirdly Russian and not helpful at all.

  “Making him suffer, maybe for something he didn’t even realize he did,” Erik said morosely. “That could be the case here.”

  Gunnar squinted at him. “Except Duracell knows what he did. Don’t you?”

  Reid had done the opposite of what Edie had advised: You have to fight for her. He knew Kennedy was leaving and assumed that was all she wrote. Assumed that she wouldn’t upend her life for someone like him.

  To hammer the point home and put a big red bow on his insecurities, he told her he was a bad bet, showed her he was one, and then pushed her out of his life. All so he could maintain control over an uncontrollable situation.

  Theo grabbed the tequila bottle and filled his glass because no one was doing it for him.

  “It sounds like Kennedy’s an independent sort. Kind of like my Ellie.”

  Reid considered that. “Yeah, she’s lived this life where she doesn’t want to rely on anyone since her parents died when she was a kid. I guess she feels it’s … safer? I understand that.” Even though she had Edie, she had created a life that kept her detached from deeper connections.

  “We all do,” Cal said. “Self-preservation is the default setting of every guy here. And every girl and guy out there.” He pointed behind him to the party that was going on without them. “She’s worried about losing someone she cares about.”

  “Because she already did.” Hale “call me Fitz” Fitzgerald, the Rebels new GM, had wandered in five minutes ago, pieced it all together from several drunk and half-wrong updates, and was now weighing in with his own brand of Southern wisdom. “No wonder she’s jumpy as all get out.”

  Cal nodded. “So she’s erected this wall with a big ass “No Trespassing” sign. Reid, you’re going to have to trample all over that sign. But first you have to accept you’re worthy of this woman.”

  Trampling wasn’t really his style. As for being worthy, how the hell was he supposed to come around to that way of thinking? It was one thing to unravel years of knots in his relationship with Bast, it was quite another to apply the lessons learned to a love that had barely bloomed.

  “I can’t force her to love me, Cal.”

  “She already does, dummy.”

  He sounded so sure and God almighty, Reid wanted to believe him. “You can’t know that.”

  “Listen, Reid, you need someone to pull that hockey stick out of your ass and show you there’s more than that one track you’ve been stuck on forever. She needs someone to ground her and make her feel safe. These are the gaps you fill for each other, and you’ve already figured it out because we just fucking told you and we are right. So convince her you’re the man for the job.”

  “Grand gesture, mon ami.” Remy puffed on his cigar and grinned like a wise old king. “Grand fucking gesture.”

  36

  There was a particular cruelty in visiting a familiar place and finding that it hadn’t changed one iota. That it had the audacity to carry on without you and didn’t miss your presence. As if you never existed.

  Dramatic much?

  “I’m getting wistful in my old age, Buck.” Her faithful companion for the two-hour drive to the past perked up at the mention of his name. Reid would probably have a fit if he knew she’d taken him across state lines—but as Reid had chosen not to visit his dog and leave custody in her hands, then his opinion on the matter shouldn’t register.

  Except he was why she was here.

  His accusation that he was merely an assignment for her and that she should just run back to Asia had cut deep. As if she was trying to escape. She was a traveler, a nomad, an embracer of new experiences. Avoidance wasn’t in her vocabulary. Reid Durand, who kept everything close to his chest, didn’t know the first thing about it.

  She was here to prove him wrong.

  Sil
ver Springs, fifteen miles east of South Bend, Indiana, hadn’t changed a jot since she left. The drugstore on the corner of Central and Main was still there, with the slightly off-kilter sign. Her dad used to stop there on the way back from the university to pick up day-old donuts, Midwestern frugality at its finest. The bank, the post office, the florist, all the same. The coffee shop might be new—or that might be a fresh coat of paint. Driving through, she wondered about homes—and hearts—frozen in time.

  Had she placed the past on a pedestal? Well, clearly she had. But so much so that she shut herself off to all possibilities? Over the last six years, she’d certainly had opportunities to open herself up. Start anew. Yet she even kept her distance from Edie because it would make it easier when her gran moved on to the great bingo hall in the sky.

  That’s what she had been searching for all these years. A path to minimize the potential for heartbreak. She was no risk-taker—not in the slightest! Not like Reid.

  This man was willing to work on himself, make all these small but crucial changes to widen those cracks in his armor. Loosening that grip on his control took effort, but that was Reid: the hardest-working person she knew.

  People said that about her. You’re so busy. You work so much. But unlike Reid, she wasn’t working toward something. She was working to keep the past at bay, the present in stasis, and the future from evolving.

  She kept driving, past the Congregational Church where her dad used to embarrass her by sing-shouting the hymns. He would wink at her and draw her smothered giggle.

  God wants you to express yourself, Ken. He doesn’t care how you do it, as long as you do it with joy.

  The Kennedy of old would claim wholeheartedly that she was doing just that. With every stamp in her passport, with every bite of a new cuisine, with every sunrise over a foreign hill. But she wasn’t sure she knew true joy until she had run around a park with Reid and Bucky or listened as he patiently explained to her the game of hockey or lay in his arms surrounded by a blanket fort dressed with pillows and bed linens.

  She almost missed the turn to her old street—the horn of the car behind her told her she took the corner too suddenly. Someone else had built a new structure in the ashes of the old. The only thing that was recognizable was the cherry blossom tree, now naked and frost-flecked.

  “Mom loved that tree, Buck. That’s why she and Dad bought the house. Because the tree was in bloom and she could see the future under it.”

  Bucky raised his head, angling for a rub, so she gave it to him because he was a great puppy and deserved all the love in the world.

  She headed to her final stop. The cemetery wasn’t big enough to drive around, so she parked, grabbed the potted plant, and brought Bucky out on his leash. After a couple of hours cooped up in the car he was clearly excited, even if it was colder than the lake they’d pulled him from.

  “Just up here a bit, Buck. Not too far.”

  The headstone stood tall, unweathered marble that would be here long after she was gone.

  Libby and Benjamin Clark

  Beloved parents, teachers, and humans.

  Death cannot part them.

  The pastor wouldn’t allow Peanut to be buried with them, which seemed all wrong. Her dad had loved Peanut.

  “Sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been away for a while.”

  Bucky strained at his leash, then relaxed and sniffed at the grass. She placed the potted calla lily near the headstone. The flowers would wilt and start to die the moment she left, and she tried not to see an analogy for her own heart in that.

  “I’ve been doing okay. Or at least, I thought I was. Faking it around the world. I came back for Edie, but I think I was just tired as well. Tired of having to pretend this was the only way to be happy.”

  She hunkered down because she needed the warmth of her furry friend to say the next part.

  “There’s a boy. Now, Dad, I know you won’t approve because that’s your job. But I think you’d like him. He’s serious and quietly funny and he has such a big heart. He doesn’t know how big. I think I screwed up because I worried about the joy I felt with him, if it was counterfeit, if it could last. He thinks I don’t care when really I care so much it fucking hurts.” She sniffed. “I know, language. Sorry, Mom.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  Shocked at the sound of another voice—Reid’s voice—she lost her balance and landed on her ass. Bucky abandoned her and lunged at his master, who hunkered down and hugged him hard, all while keeping his eyes on Kennedy.

  “And I thought you yoga experts had better balance than hockey players.” He grasped her hand and pulled her upright in one fluid move. “Hi, roomie.”

  “Hi.” He still held her hand or maybe she still held his. Either way, neither of them seemed inclined to let go. “How did you find me?”

  “Bucky’s GPS. I didn’t think it would work so far out but here I am. Stalking my puppy, not you.” He pulled her close, giving the lie to those words. “I stopped by the apartment to pick up stuff for my trip to Toronto. You weren’t there and curiosity got the better of me. The tracker only has a ten-mile range but you must have just left, so I’ve been behind you all the way. I should have waited until you were finished just now but—I—I didn’t want to wait any more.”

  That cracked open something inside her. Reid, behind her, supporting her on the road, and she hadn’t even realized he was there. But maybe he was here because he was worried about Bucky.

  “Don’t you have a flight to Toronto to catch?”

  “I sent Bast on his way. He and I have sorted things out and this is more important.” Reid was doing the dark-eyed intense thing again. “You were right about standing up to my father. I’ve put up with it, let it affect my relationship with Bast, let it rule how I run my life. I got into it with him. Told him how I felt, how it hurt.”

  She had checked in with Bast and had the broad brushstrokes of what went down, but hearing Reid say it checked her heart. “That was really brave of you.”

  “Don’t know about that. I told him that how he treats me is toxic and I wasn’t going to let him do that anymore. I was mostly worried about how Bast would take it.”

  “He took your side.”

  Reid smiled, just that flash she adored. “You know him better than I do because you’re a good judge of character. Yeah, he took my side. Told Henri that he wasn’t welcome. All this time I’ve been holding my breath, mostly worried about damaging my relationship with my brother. Or doing more damage to it. I don’t have a lot of friends, so I—I need him.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “And he needs you. Also, you have more friends than you think, Reid.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I have you, I hope. I think we’ve become friends, even if I ruined it by doing my grouchy, heart of darkness bit. Now here I am, your asshole friend, intruding on your moment.”

  “No, not at all.” Reid was meant to be here, meeting her parents. “Can I introduce you?”

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  She was sure. Even if she and Reid could never be more, she wanted him in her life any way that could happen.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Reid Durand, aka Hot Jerk, aka NHL’s most amazing center, aka a total cinnamon roll sweetheart.” She snuck a look at him to find his eyebrow in the Reid quirk of amused. “They’re detail-oriented people.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “And Reid, this is my mom and dad, aka Libby and Benjamin Clark, aka the best parents a girl could have.”

  He nodded with his usual Reid gravity. “Good to meet you both. You did a great job with this girl. She’s kind and generous and doesn’t understand how special she is. Maybe that makes her humble, but I think it also makes her a little bit clueless.”

  “Oh, Dad will like that. He always thought I wasn’t ambitious enough.” The enormity of the moment reared up and threatened to choke her. Reid must have sensed it because he turned her into his hard chest and let her weep softly.

  No
arms had ever felt stronger. No body had ever sheltered her so well. No heart had ever called to her so clearly.

  A few minutes later, they walked hand-in-hand back to the cemetery entrance.

  “Would you sit with me for a moment in my warm car with its heated seats?”

  “I’d love that.”

  He opened the passenger door for her and the back door for Bucky. When he got in on the driver’s side and closed the door, he pulled something from his pocket.

  “As well as stopping by to see Bucky and get stuff for my trip, I also planned to leave a gift for you.” He placed a wrapped box on the dash.

  “Reid, really?”

  “Yes, Kennedy, really.”

  With shaking hands, she took it and removed the wrapping. It looked like a jewelry box and she opened it with a held breath. It was a key. It also looked familiar.

  “What’s this to?”

  “The apartment. I know you have one already but this is a spare, one you can keep in a special place in case you lose the other one. I want you to have a key so you know you’ll always have a home to return to. With me and Bucky.”

  He reached in back and petted his dog. “I can’t clip your wings, Kennedy, and I’d never expect you to stick around for me—”

  She sniffed. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not the kind of guy who inspires devotion. I’m not a fan favorite or a flashy star. I’m a worker, a grinder, and when my career is over, I’ll be remembered as a journeyman who scrapped his way out of the AHL and cobbled a career together with spit and sneers and time in the gym and miles on his skates. People respect that guy but no one loves him.”

  He was so, so wrong, and she hated Henri Durand for ever making him doubt his lovability.

  “You listen to me, Reid Fucking Durand. That guy is the backbone of the team. The center who directs traffic and controls the ice and makes the game hum. That guy might be a grinder but that doesn’t mean he’s unpopular or unlovable. Bucky loves that guy and so do I.”