Page 90 of The Goalie in Room 1

There were plenty of pictures of him online. Dr. Thaddeus Vale standing at podiums. Thad in scrubs. Thad at medical conferences. Thad looking serious as fuck beside people who looked equally serious as fuck.

Then I’d found that one.

Years younger. Helmet off. Arm around a teammate. Grinning like an idiot.

I leaned over and tapped the glass. “There.”

Thad’s eyes followed my finger.

“You look happy there.”

His throat moved before he answered. “I was.”

“I figured you should have one in the house.”

He looked at me, and suddenly, the room felt too fucking warm.

“It wasn’t⁠—”

“Don’t,” he said softly.

I shut my mouth.

Thad looked at the picture again. His thumb moved over the edge of the frame before he carefully set it on the table. Then his hand found my ankle again.

“Thank you.”

There wasn’t a joke anywhere in his voice. Nothing for me to grab onto and throw back at him.

“Yeah.” I picked up my coffee and looked toward the tree because looking at him seemed like a terrible fucking idea. “So, where are you putting it?”

“My office.”

My head whipped around so fast he laughed.

“Asshole.”

“I’m kidding.”

“Dick.”

“Living room.”

“Better.”

He was still smiling when he moved my leg off his lap and stood.

“Where are you going?”

“To get your presents.”

I frowned. “What presents?”

“Yours.”

“Where the fuck are they?”

“In the car.”