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SIX

“Remind me again why you’re moving midseason?” Hughes asked with a groan, dropping his large frame onto Dabbs’ couch, which was wedged at an angle in Dabbs’ foyer.

“Because my landlord found out about the dogs.” Dabbs gave Hughes’ leg a light kick. “You’re supposed to help me move the couch onto the truck, not sit on it.”

Bellamy looked over at the dogs as Dabbs and Hughes bickered. Cosmo and Castle—eight-pound Pomeranians from the same litter—cuddled together against the wall as though they were worried about being left behind.

Bellamy gave their ears a scratch. “Don’t worry, babies. Dabbs isn’t leaving without you.”

CC tromped into the house. When he’d left a moment ago to carry a box out to the moving truck, he’d been wearing a down jacket. Now he was only in a long-sleeved Henley. “I need sustenance,” he proclaimed, a bandana keeping his sweaty hair back from his face.

Hughes rolled his eyes. “You always need sustenance.”

“We’re almost done,” Dabbs said. “Why don’t we finish loading the truck, and we can drive it to the new house. I’ll order pizza when we get there.”

“And wings,” CC demanded.

“Obviously. You still good to drive the truck once it’s loaded?”

CC looked behind himself as though Dabbs were speaking to someone else. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. You said you’d drive the truck.”

“I don’t remember that,” CC said.

Bellamy sat on the floor next to the dogs since this argument was just getting started, and Hughes got more comfortable on the couch, swinging his long legs up onto it.

“Why can’t you drive the truck?” CC asked.

“I’m carrying the dogs.”

“And if I did drive the truck,” CC went on as though Dabbs hadn’t spoken, “I’d have to come back for my car later.”

“I can drive the truck,” Bellamy offered.

CC blinked at him. “What about your car?”

“The one in Nevada? Pretty sure it’s fine without me.”

“Dude, you don’t have your car yet?” Hughes sat up. “Tell somebody about that. Someone in player assistance will get you sorted.”

“I’m told it’s on its way,” Bellamy said, picturing his SUV driving itself across the country like a driverless Transformer. He swallowed a snicker. “Kinsey hooked me up with a rental in the meantime.” He’d taken a rideshare to Dabbs’ house though, figuring there’d be room for him in the moving truck—or in CC’s car—for the drive to Dabbs’ new place.

Hughes grunted and hefted his six-foot-four frame off the couch. “I swear that guy’s always ten steps ahead.” He clapped his hands once. “Okay. Are we doing this or what?”

Forty minutes later, Bellamy drove the U-Haul into a suspiciously familiar neighborhood. In the truck’s passenger seat, Cosmo and Castle sat placidly on Dabbs’ lap. Things shifted and bumped in the back of the truck, but nothing fell over. Bellamy hadn’t fully trusted the packing skills of four hockey players, but they’d done okay.

“Make a left here,” Dabbs said.

Bellamy turned into the large driveway of a two-story building with a gray-tiled pitched roof that had been converted into three townhomes. The end units had white siding; the middle one was gray. The building was perched next to a hundred-foot cliff with unobstructed views of Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks, and the driveway was surrounded by trees, with two parking spots per unit.

“ This is where you’re moving?” Bellamy asked, executing a three-point turn so the ass end of the truck faced the house.

“Yeah. Pretty sweet, right?”

They got out as CC parked nearby, Hughes in his passenger seat, and Bellamy met Dabbs at the back of the truck. “ This is where you’re moving?” he repeated.

“Uh, yes?” Dabbs said, blinking at him in confusion, the leashed dogs sniffing at his feet. He nodded at one of the units. “This one on the end. 17C.”

“That one—” Bellamy stabbed a finger in the direction of 17A. “—is mine.”

Dabbs’ face lit up. “No shit?”

“The organization owns the whole building,” Hughes told Bellamy as he joined them. He turned his Trailblazers hat around so it sat backward on his head. “They use it for visiting coaches, league representatives, new trades and such.”

“That would explain why I haven’t seen or heard any neighbors,” Bellamy muttered. “So how did you end up here?” he asked Dabbs. “Did you beg to stay here when your landlord kicked you out?”

Dabbs shrugged. “Pretty much. I don’t have time to house hunt right now.”

“Speaking of getting kicked out.” CC hefted up the truck’s roll-up door. “How the hell did you expect to hide two dogs?”

Dabbs passed the dogs’ leashes to Bellamy and hopped onto the truck deck. “I managed for three years. The landlord lives in Barre. It was just bad luck that he happened to drop in unannounced the other day. Every other time he called ahead.”

Hughes waggled his eyebrows. “Our captain has a bit of rebel in him.”

“I’d just like to point out that we were promised pizza and wings,” Bellamy reminded Dabbs, his stomach rolling with hunger.

“See?” Grinning, CC jabbed him in the shoulder. “I knew you were my favorite.”

“Know what will make you like me even more?” Bellamy tipped his head in the direction of his temporary home. “I’ve got beer at my place.”

“ Do you?” CC linked their elbows. “Lead the way.”

Which was how they ended up eating pizza and wings and drinking beer at Bellamy’s place instead of Dabbs’.

“How did you end up here?” Dabbs asked. They’d foregone the kitchen table to sit around the coffee table in the living room, where they could look out the sliding glass doors onto the lake. “I thought Kinsey was going to put you up in one of the organization’s apartments near the arena.”

“He was,” Bellamy confirmed. “But he thought that since I’d just come from a landlocked city that I might like a view of the lake.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” CC sat up from his slouch against the couch. “Did this place come furnished?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy said, looking around at the hardwood floors and cozy couches and into the kitchen with its custom wood cabinets, butcher block island, stainless steel appliances, and six-burner Viking range. “Isn’t that the whole point of supplying temporary housing to new trades?”

CC turned to Dabbs. “Does that mean your unit is furnished too?”

“Sure,” Dabbs said, reaching for another slice of pizza.

“But you have a couch in the truck. And a bed. Dressers. Coffee tables. End tables. Fucking lamps.” CC spat out that last one as though the lamps had personally offended him.

“Those will go into storage. We just need to take out the essentials.”

“We have another stop to make after this?” Groaning obnoxiously, CC slid bonelessly onto the floor. “I’m so done with this day.”

“If I order you more pizza, will you stop complaining?” Dabbs asked.

“I want cookies.”

“Then I’ll order you fucking cookies.”

Hughes perked up. “I mean, if you’re ordering for people, I could use a sandwich.”

Dabbs sighed and looked at Bellamy. “Let me guess. You want something too? Even though we all just gorged on pizza and wings?”

“I could have a sandwich,” Bellamy said. He would’ve felt bad for Dabbs, but their captain was clearly trying not to laugh. “Like, a really good meatball sub. With a side of chips.”

“Ooh, yeah, that,” Hughes breathed. “I want that too.”

“Me three,” CC piped in.

“I thought you wanted cookies,” Dabbs said.

“Yeah,” CC said like it was obvious, the duh implied in his tone. “And the sandwich and the chips.”

“Christ. You’re all children,” Dabbs said, but he got out his phone to order.

As the sun began its slow descent, Bellamy looked across a crystal blue lake to snow-capped trees on the other side. This wasn’t where he’d expected to find himself on a Tuesday afternoon. But when Dabbs had casually mentioned at morning skate that he was moving today, Bellamy had offered to help. That CC and Hughes had already been on tap to help meant that Bellamy got to spend the day getting to know his new teammates.

Because this was what he did. Year over year and from team to team, the only way to make himself feel like he belonged there was to immerse himself in the lives of his teammates.

Someone needed help moving? No problem.

Someone else needed a lift to the airport at three in the morning? He was on it.

Someone’s kids needed babysitting? Bellamy was there with his old board games.

Someone needed help painting a bedroom, moving furniture, hauling a baby crib home from the store, shopping for an anniversary gift for their significant other, choosing linens for a wedding, being a second set of eyes and reading over a contract from a new sponsor?

Bellamy was always the answer.

The two times in recent history when he hadn’t had to force things—aside from when he visited his grandparents—were when he’d played darts with Jason and his friends and when he and Jason had eaten at Red’s Restaurant. Of course, both of those instances had resulted in Bellamy walking away when Ryland Zervudachi had gotten between them—metaphorically if not physically.

But fuck. Bellamy was tired of walking away from Jason. But if Jason was going to have his guard up, was there even any point in trying to be friends, never mind anything more?

Hours later, pizza, wings, beer, sandwiches, chips, and cookies consumed, Dabbs’ essentials unloaded from the truck, and his furniture hauled to a nearby storage unit, Bellamy dragged his sore limbs and tired body into unit 17A and fell back against the door. Christ. And he’d thought hockey practice was a workout.

He was considering a soak in the large jacuzzi tub that oh-so-helpfully came with the house when his phone pinged with an incoming text.

From Jason.

His heart threatening to crash through his ribs, Bellamy fumbled the phone, almost dropping it in his haste to open the message.

Jason:

People have used me to get to my brother before. One of them wanted to meet him to pitch his workout app; the other wanted a piece of his clothing to sell on eBay. Both ditched me after they got what they wanted.

Swallowing hard, Bellamy sank onto his couch as the next message came in. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this.

Jason:

I wasn’t always hardwired to think that people only wanted to get close to me for access to Ryland, but those guys left their marks, and it’s not easy for me to trust. You being who you are to Ryland makes it even harder for me to trust you. But that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my hang-ups. So I’m sorry.

Jason:

I would’ve told you this in person, by the way, but I figured the chances of you willingly coming back to the farm were probably slim, and I wasn’t going to try to find you at the arena after a game. Trying to convince security that I wanted to see you to apologize for being a grade-A asshole would probably get me laughed right out of the building.

Bellamy chuckled, but he sobered quickly.

Jesus. Here Bellamy thought Jason disliked him on principle and was just waiting for Bellamy to use him, all because of the rivalry.

But it hadn’t been about him at all.

God. Someone had used Jason to get to Ryland? More than one someone?

What the fuck was wrong with people?

Anger, sorrow, disbelief... they cut a hole through his stomach. He wanted to hold Jason close and tell him how sorry he was that the world had been shitty to him.

He also desperately wanted to call him, wanted to hear Jason’s voice, but...

Jason had texted for a reason. And after that revelation, he was probably feeling vulnerable and not super willing to talk to anyone.

So Bellamy texted back, wishing he could reach through the phone and touch him.

Bellamy:

Thanks for telling me. I’m sorry people are a bag of dicks.

Jason sent him a photo of a bag of candy dicks. It was so unexpected that Bellamy let out a burst of laughter that he was mildly embarrassed about until he remembered he was alone.

Jason:

Speaking of dicks, want to come play darts with me and my friends on Friday night?

Bellamy:

What do dicks have to do with darts?

Jason:

A lot of my friends have dicks.

Jason:

Okay, yeah, bad joke. I have no excuse.

Bellamy laughed again, and when he went to bed, he fell asleep with a smile on his face for perhaps the first time since he’d gotten traded.