Page 26 of Three Hockey Hotties

He does.

Even though he’s older, smarter, and definitely more sophisticated than Kane and me, Benjamin always listens to us and cares about our feelings and opinions. It’s how the three of us have worked for so long.

“Make sure she has everything she needs,” he tells me after he’s calmed down a little bit.

I nod. “Of course.”

And I realize he understands that not everything Abby needs is going to be something he can slap down his platinum card for.

I step into the doorway to Abby’s bedroom, feeling like this is a huge intrusion suddenly.

The room is tiny and incredibly feminine. The scent of strawberries nearly knocks me over, and I grip the door jamb for a moment as I inhale deeply.

This scent will soon be in Benjamin’s house.

On the real girl. And all of her stuff.

That means I am not going to be leaving Benjamin’s house.

I wonder if he realizes that.

I step into the room, the hardwood floor creaking underneath my feet. Her bed is a regular-sized double, and, stupidly, my first thought, looking at the sweet pink duvet and the measly two pillows, is that she needs nicer stuff. Fluffier stuff. There’s something about Abby that makes me think of soft, plush, and comfortable.

The second thought is, of course, she’s going to need a bigger bed.

I won’t even fit in that bed, and if there’s going to be two or three of us with her— and there is, eventually—we’re absolutely going to have to do something about bed size.

Of course, this bed is not coming with us. It looks rickety as fuck, for one thing.

The dresser against the wall is also clearly old and beat to hell.

The scarred top is covered with little glass bottles and tubes of girl stuff. I want to uncap each thing and smell it, but we don’t have time for that. I’m just gonna take it all.

I look around the room and, besides the tiny table sitting next to the bed with a lamp on it, a couple of books, and a water bottle—this one is mint green—there’s not much else in here.

I cross to the closet, which is a third of the size of one of my closets. Plus, I have two. And I’m not even the diva about clothes that Kane and Benjamin both are.

I’ve always assumed that both of their taste for nice things comes from their parents. I grew up with parents who had to struggle and cut corners to make my hockey dreams come true, so I’ve always been super grateful and careful with money. Even though I make okay money now, I don’t often splurge.

Looking at the few clothes hanging in Abby’s closet, though, I suddenly also want to pull out my credit card and go to town. I want to buy her the most ridiculous shit.

Or maybe I just want to hand it over and let her go crazy.

I find a battered light gray suitcase with pink flower stickers added to one corner. That makes me smile. It's got wear and tear, but she still added something to make it pretty and I hope that makes her smile.

I put the suitcase on the bed and start pulling clothing items off hangers. All of it will fit in this suitcase, and we might as well take everything.

Then I cross to the dresser. I put all of the bottles and tubes into the pocket on the inside of the suitcase, then add the two books and the water bottle from the bedside table. Then I pull open the top dresser drawer.

I freeze for a moment. It’s her underwear drawer.

Well, she’s going to need bras and panties.

“Are you going through my underwear?”

I spin, a pair of baby blue bikini panties in one hand and a pair of simple, white silky briefs in the other.

“Um…you’ll need them,” I say, holding them up.