Page 41 of Body Check

sixteen

. . .

Amelia

As the season goes on, we fall into a routine. The schedule is a cacophony of home games and road trips. When I’m in town, I spend as much time with my brothers as possible, soaking up all the baby snuggles, and resting when I can. Ainsley is growing so freaking fast, it’s unbelievable.

Outside of the team, I haven’t made any friends yet. But Robby, Joaquin, Patrice, and Vanessa keep my calendar plenty busy with brunch dates and drinks after work on non-game days. We always hang out when we’re on the road. There’s a camaraderie I didn’t experience in Colorado or as an intern in Austin. Before, when the day was over, I left work behind. Now… it follows me wherever I go.

Maybe because I can see the team captain from my bedroom window each night. I haven’t given him another show, not since our session, and if he’s getting PT, it’s from one of the other staff members because he hasn’t been back on my table.

I’ve barely seen him. When we run into each other at the facility, he gives me a nod and keeps moving, and we haven’t been in the same room for more than ten seconds before someone else walks in. There’s no chance to talk about what happened.

He’s giving me space. He deserves the courtesy of me giving him the same.

We have a whole two days off for Thanksgiving, so of course, the team gathers at our favorite dive bar for a night out. Some of the guys flew to their hometowns, but most of them brought their families here.

Brandon doesn’t talk to his family, and Tyler isn’t close to our dad, so it’s just the three of us and Ainsley this year. We invited Robby to join us, and if he thinks it’s weird to celebrate the holiday with his ex’s husband, he hasn’t mentioned it. Brandon said it would be weird if Robby were suddenly hanging out, but now, they’re the best of friends.

Sven and Vanessa are also without extended families, but they politely declined our invitation. Patrice’s mom and sisters came to visit, and Joaquin’s brothers drove in from Rhode Island.

It’s a lively crowd at the bar. The team fills the place, all the support staff also joining in. There is a much more fluid line between players and staff with the Grizzlies. On my past teams, there wasn’t nearly as much mingling. I don’t feel less than or inferior because I don’t earn the big bucks, like they do.

Half the guys are younger than me, though there is a solid core of older veterans. Gonzo and Logan are my age, MacGregor is three years older, and Sinclair is right in there. McKittrick is the oldest player on the team.

I can’t imagine what it’s like, knowing your best days are behind you. He can still win the Cup, he still has another opportunity to push, but this is the last year of his contract. After spending the last eight years with Boston, who knows if they’ll give him another. Who knows where he’ll end up. The world is open to him, full of post-hockey opportunities.

But if I know McKittrick even half as well as I think I do, he doesn’t want a world post-hockey. He won’t hang up his skates until he absolutely has to. He won’t give up hockey until it’s forcibly taken from him. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.

Robby nudges me with his elbow, startling me from my introspection. “Why so glum, babe?”

“Just thinking.” I sip my drink, letting the stringent flavor of the vodka flood my senses. “You good?”

The holidays can be rough when you have no contact with your family.

“I’m great,” he says.

Looking him over, his eyes are a bit glassy, but he seems to be in control of his faculties.

“Really, Meels,” he insists. “I’m desperately single, but unless you know a hot, single, queer man who doesn’t have a U-Haul full of baggage, I’m doing good.”

Laughing, I wrap my arm around him and squeeze him in a hug. “I don’t, but I’ll keep my eye out for you.”

He sighs. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Besides, I’m right there with you on the single front,” I say before I can think better of it.

“Might I interest you in a no strings attached hookup?” He waves his hand in front of us. “Look at the buffet of hot, hopefully single, emotionally unavailable men. What’s your type?”

“Not someone I work with.”

Although…

Robby rolls his eyes. “Well, good thing we’re in a bar full of people you don’t know. I’ll be your wingman, hype you up. Seriously, what’s your type?”

“Tall. Dark hair.”

“Right, right. Let’s see what we can do.” Chin in his hand, he scopes out the situation around us. “Lawyer?”