Page 85 of Full Body Hit, Part 1

Chase laughed. Those two had such a weird relationship.

Noah was, indeed, waiting for them at Chase’s when they arrived, hair dishevelled as though he’d been taking a nap.

“I was taking a nap,” Noah complained and then widened his eyes at the sight of the car, peering into the back seat, which was also crammed with stuff. “Holy shit, what the hell did you guys get? The whole of Ikea?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if we would go to Ikea.”

Chase and Noah exchanged raised eyebrows and twin shrugs. Chase also didn’t know why they wouldn’t go to Ikea.

The doorman, despite Chase’s many, many protests, helped them get the stuff into the elevator—they were lucky there were two, or Chase would probably be hearing from the neighbours.

It took them three loads and a lot of sweat and panting to get everything into the apartment.

“I feel like that should have been easier to do. We’re athletes,” Chase whined.

“There were like a million things,” Noah pointed out.

Sammy clapped his hands together. “Okay, enough whining. Let’s decorate.”

Chase and Noah convinced him to get some food first, and they ate some acai bowls, in the mood for something sweet.

“Okay, now let’s get to decorating.”

They’d bought a toolbox, too, and Sammy proved to be stunningly handy with it. Chase watched him in awe as he used a spirit level to hang the paintings and the shelves. They placed the rug under the coffee table and scattered the apartment with lamps.

Sammy helped Chase set up the lights for his nest and the canopy they’d figured out. Four wooden planks were flush to the wall, and a thin, cream cloth was nailed to them so the canopy hung like a dipped ceiling, letting a diffused light in from the fairy lights. Joey was tucked into the blankets, waiting to be cuddled.

It was perfect.

By the time they were done, the whole apartment was perfect, honestly. Chase walked through the space, surprised by what some art, colour, and warm lighting could do.

“What do you think? Obviously, it’ll look better when the couch gets—oof.”

Sammy was cut off as Chase tackled him into a hug. “Thank you. It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

Sammy wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. “So it’s good?”

“It’s perfect.”

Sammy beamed. “Good. You deserve it.”

Noah stood nearby, watching them. “Uhm…can we order some pizza? I’m hungry again.”

Sammy snorted. “Yeah, okay. I think we deserve it.”

Chase smiled, not even thinking of protesting.

Chapter Eight

AUSTON

Auston had never been prone to addiction.

Sure, he’d get blasted drunk a lot more often when he was in his early twenties and had done his fair share of drugs—it came with the territory of being a hockey player back then.

But he’d never gotten hooked. Sure, his sister had always gotten concerned when he wouldn’t call her back because he was too hungover, but that was just part of the culture of being a young guy in the league back then. It’d all just been a fun time that he could shake off if he needed to.

He’d known plenty of guys who had fallen in holes much deeper—players who disappeared into the bathroom right before games, during intermission, who would come out sniffling and rubbing their nose.