Page 26

CHAPTER 26

KENO

We put in an offer on a house. Together. Both of our names are on it. My stomach is fluttering all over the place with such vehemence that I might feel a little lightheaded. My hands feel jittery.

“You okay?” Etna asks.

I take a breath. “Yeah. Like I said, this now feels weirdly real.”

He smiles.

“Also, I’m glad you’re driving right now.”

Etna chuckles. Once he turns a corner, he reaches for my hand and holds it tightly. “I’d say I’m excited to live with you, but we already live together and have for over a year.”

“I know,” I agree, sighing. “Maybe ‘ real ’ isn’t the right word. Maybe…”

“It’s all happening. Kind of at once.”

I nod. My hold on his hand stays tight as I watch the world go by outside the window and chew on my lip. My mind feels like it’s swimming with too many thoughts to concentrate. For some reason, I think about my living room furniture.

“You sold your house with the furniture, right?”

“All except a few heirloom pieces.”

“I think I’d like to sell all mine with the house, too. Besides our bed, I think most of it came with the house.”

“You want to start with nothing in the new house?” Etna asks, amused.

“No. Well, yes. At your place, we always sit together. At mine, we sit separately because I don’t like the couch, and you can’t fit in my chair with me. Besides, I’d like everything to be ours.”

Etna nods. “That means we’re adding one more thing to our lengthy list of to-dos.”

“Technically, we already added packing and moving and unpacking that we didn’t include in our schedule.”

He makes a face and I grin.

“It’s okay. I figure we’ll throw a few pizza parties and beg our friends for help.”

“We could just hire movers.”

“Oh, I’m planning on it. I’m talking about packing. Between the five of us, I feel like we can crank out both houses in a day.”

Etna laughs. “You’re overly optimistic.”

“Nah. Your house is half packed already. Mine is tiny and I don’t think there’s much to pack. I’ve only been here for eighteen months and most of the stuff I’ve accumulated in that time is big outdoor toys with you. Those don’t go in boxes.”

“Which brings up the side note that we need to hire movers for the boat. I think we can just load everything in the boat and have it all moved at once.”

Surprisingly, we chose the house with the black roof in the squishy neighborhood right on the canal. The house was amazing, spacious, entirely updated in a style we both really liked, and 100% move-in ready. The house on the lake was spacious and on the lake we love, but that’s all it had going for it.

I’m excited for the black-roofed house to be our first. I’m not being unrealistic and thinking it’ll be our forever home. The reality that neither of us has talked about is the chance of one of us being traded. Or both, but likely to different teams.

The most I’m hoping for is for us to be on teams that are close together like Caulder and Lo. A couple hours we can make work. A thousand miles? The idea of being so far away from Etna makes me tense. How would we ever make that work?

To be fair, even if we weren’t getting married, even if we were still just friends like we’d been a couple months ago, the thought of being traded away from Etna always left a sick feeling in my gut.

It’s reality. I know that. It’s the way hockey works. I never thought there’d be something about hockey I resented, but a future where we have to struggle and fight for every minute together is definitely something I hate.

In fact, I think I’d hate it enough that I’d retire. I can be the house husband and support my hockey man. The thought makes me smile, but that smile is short-lived. There would still be a bunch of nights he’d be away, and I’d be sleeping without him. The great thing about being on the team together is that we can always be together. Work, play, travel. All of it.

Any other configuration and we lose a lot of that.

“Did we have plans with Julian?” Etna asks.

I blink out of my thoughts and focus in on my surroundings, which is us pulling into our driveway with Julian’s car already parked there.

Frowning, I check my phone. “No. This very clearly states ‘ Sell Etna’s house today !’ and ‘ Taste some cakes but don’t gain weight .’”

We both laugh. Hockey things are listed just as they are. I think we were feeling a little feisty when we scheduled our wedding and sex-capades to-dos. Or maybe we were just nervous and therefore put them in with the hope we’d laugh and maybe release some of the nerves. I didn’t put that much thought into it, but I probably did it subconsciously.

Julian’s sitting on the stoop in the shade.

“We also didn’t miss a call,” I note. “Did you get a text?”

Etna checks his phone once we’re in park. “Nope.”

We get out and Julian smiles.

“What’s up?” I ask. “You okay?”

He nods as he gets to his feet. “Yep, fine. Just bored and needed to get out of the house. I was dialing to call you when you pulled down the road.”

“Ah. We’re heading to cake tasting in a bit.”

“No worries. I can head out.”

Etna and I exchange a look. “You want to taste some cake with us?”

“Nah. I don’t want to impose on your wedding stuff.”

“We’re literally consuming calories today,” Etna says. “It’s not an imposition.”

“Seriously, I can’t think of a single wedding thing you could impose on,” I add. “We’re winging it with the best of them.”

Julian still hesitates, but after a minute, he nods. “Thanks. I’m tired of sitting around at home playing games. Hilt has family shit and Horny went home for a few days and you’re doing couple-y things and I’m just bored.” He laughs.

“Didn’t want to hang with Hilt and the family shit, huh?”

“Kids are cool and all, but I don’t feel joy being around them.”

I grin. “We’re just changing since we headed to the real estate office just after the gym. Then we’re heading out for cakes. Plural.”

“Sounds good.”

It doesn’t take us long to change. We don’t even fool around or teasingly grope since we know Julian’s here. Less than ten minutes later, we’re back in the car. This time, with Julian in the back seat.

We’re leaving a bit early, but we chose to check out this cake place since it’s on the other side of Phoenix, close to the resort. It’s also the middle of the day, so while traffic shouldn’t be too bad, there’s always a bit of traffic congestion to fight through.

Julian’s quiet as we drive. I look at Etna before shifting in my seat so I can look more fully at him. “You okay, Jules?”

He’s staring out the window but turns to look at me when I speak. Julian gives me a smile. “Yeah. Just got… lonely, I guess.”

“You know, you meet people when you leave your house, right? They don’t come to you.”

He rolls his eyes, his smile still lingering. “Yes. I’m aware. I find it’s hard to find real people, though. Like in college, when the girls all knew I was heading for pro, with an agent and scouts checking me out, they all wanted to be trophy girlfriends. The people I meet when I go out now are the same. Oh, you’re a hockey player? Hey. Would they even have looked twice at me otherwise?”

“That’s a fair assessment of the world.”

Julian huffs. “Honestly, I don’t hate being alone. Most of the time, I really enjoy it. My life, my decisions—they’re my own and affect no one but me. I appreciate that more than I’m letting on. Just sometimes… I get tired of the silence.”

“You can hang out any time,” Etna offers.

“Yeah? I have a feeling you’ll take that back eventually.”

“I mean, don’t crawl into bed with us, but yeah, I mean that.”

Julian snorts. “I’ll try to resist.”

“Are you looking for a girlfriend or just want friends when you get lonely?” I ask.

He sighs heavily. “It’s hard to find someone who accepts you and all your quirks, you know?”

I study Julian. If there was someone with quirks, I’d have said me or Horny. Not Julian. I nod anyway.

“For the wrong reasons, sometimes I wish I had a wife.”

“What’re the wrong reasons?” Etna asks.

“People look at me and think, ‘twenty-something year old hockey player with a big bank account. Party animal. Slut. Irresponsible.’”

“People are going to judge you no matter what.”

He gives me an amused look. “You tell them you’re married, or they see a ring on your finger and their reaction changes. Suddenly I’m settling down and responsible.”

“Yeah?” I find that hard to believe.

“When I was a kid, twelve maybe, I was sitting at the table doing homework when my father came home. He told my mom he got the promotion he’d been wanting. He got it over the other guy who should have had it—he was more qualified and whatever. But when he got the promotion, the boss said, ‘ Congratulations, Mack. So good to have another good, Christian family man as one of the faces of the company .’ He didn’t get the position because he was qualified. Or even because they saw something in him or believed in his skills or vision. They gave him the job over the other guy, who was happily single and a proud atheist.”

“That’s… fucked up.”

“It happens a lot when there are older people in charge. The guys from older generations. They care more about the look of the company and the message, even subliminal, they’ll present to the world. I already fight a lot of prejudice because of my skin color. On top of that, the damn lady at the grocery store the other day said to me, ‘ Oh, you’re young and rich; you’ll get any girl you want if you stop partying .’ Granted, I was buying vodka.” He grins.

“First, I didn’t know that was a thing,” Etna says. “Second, that’s bullshit. She could have at least said you have nice hair.”

Julian laughs.

We pull into the parking lot and Etna turns in his seat once we’re in Park. “On a serious note, it sucks that you have to deal with prejudice.” He glances at me. “I get it in an abstract way. From a distance and not from experience. But you know what? You’re a professional hockey player. Less than 10% of hockey players manage to go pro. Far fewer are minorities. You’re kicking ass and proving to all the sucky people that you’re just as good, if not better, than most hockey players. All based on your talent. A wife doesn’t change that. You proved that before you had a bank account that could walk on its own.”

Julian nods.

“And you’re a good person. People who make judgments on you for any reason other than your words and actions are proving just how much better and bigger a person you are than them.”

“I don’t mean to sound like I have a chip on my shoulder. One of the things I truly love about hockey is how there are literally people from countries all over the world. This isn’t just an American sport with 95% white Americans playing. When I looked last, less than 30% of pro hockey players are American. I love the mix of nationalities, cultures, colors, and inclusion. You don’t find that in many places or in many careers, especially sports. Seriously, I’m just a little lonely right now.”

“I get it,” I say. “We’re glad you’re here. There are very few times when we’d ask for privacy.”

“I wouldn’t say very few,” Etna teases, opening his door. Julian and I follow. When we join him around the front, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and drags me to him. “I think there are far more times we’d ask for privacy than there used to be.”

Julian smirks. “Thanks for the update on your sex life without saying as much.”

I close my eyes, imagining the heat on my cheeks is from the hot Arizona sun. “Was that necessary?”

“You make it sound like we’re prudes,” he argues, steering us toward the door behind Julian.

I don’t respond as we step inside. The woman we’re meeting is Amelia, who I think is the owner of the bakery. Etna releases me and heads for the counter. He hasn’t even made it back to us when a woman comes out, all smiles.

“Hello,” she greets. “I’m Amelia. You must be Etna and Keno.” She offers her hand, and we take turns shaking it.

“Yes. Thanks. This is our friend Julian. He’s here for moral support and to help us make a decision,” Etna says.

“Making decisions is harder than it sounds,” I mutter to Julian once Amelia greets him as well. He grins at me as we follow Amelia into the back. There’s a big table set up with tiered trays of mini cakes and desserts. It smells like sugar, chocolate, and fruit… so many good scents mingle in the air and make my mouth salivate.

“Before we get to the tasting, let’s talk briefly about your wedding,” Amelia suggests as we sit in front of all the sweets. “Basics first. How many guests?”

Etna and I look at each other.

“Oh, damn,” he says. “We didn’t call Melissa to tell her that.”

I laugh. I look at Julian on my other side. “Seriously, we need a manager. You open?”

He laughs.

“I think we’re at 150 or so,” I tell her, giving Etna a questioning look. He nods, shrugging. “I’ll be honest and tell you we didn’t count, so I’m just tripling my family list to accommodate Etna’s family list and our friends list.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need an exact number. I need a ballpark, so I know how big the cake needs to be. How about theme? Colors?”

Etna pulls out his phone and flips to the picture of the color swatches we took at the attire place to show Amelia. “We don’t have a theme. Nothing sounded good.”

“That’s totally okay. Are you looking for a traditional tiered cake?”

“As opposed to?” I ask.

Amelia pulls a book from a shelf behind her and flips it open to slide in front of us. There are cakes of all shapes and sizes. Page upon page.

We both sigh.

“How lame is a hockey puck cake?” I ask. “Is that even possible? Have you made one before?”

“It is possible, and no, I haven’t,” Amelia says.

“It’s not lame if that’s what you want,” Julian adds. “No one has to love your cake or anything about your day but you. If you want a hockey cake, then have a hockey cake.”

“That’s the problem,” Etna says. “We don’t know what we want but… I think starting with a puck would be cool.”

“How about we stop talking about design and get to some tasting?” Amelia says, closing her notebook and setting it aside. “While you taste, tell me about yourselves as individuals and a couple. I’ll contemplate ideas.”

My shoulders relax. “Thanks. But there’s not a lot to tell. We met through hockey. We’re on the same team. We’ve been best friends since we met. We decided to get married.” He shrugs.

“Way to simplify,” Julian says. He reaches for one of the little cakes and pulls it in front of me since I’m between them. He hands me the knife and then gives Etna and I forks while Amelia brings over another fork for him. “You’ve been together since you met, from what I understand. It’s only recently that you’ve decided to get married. I’ve never seen two people so obliviously but obviously in love in my entire life.”

I ignore him and dutifully cut the cake into three. There are probably three bites in each piece.

“Word of caution,” Amelia says. “Try to limit yourself to a bite, otherwise you’ll be full before we make it through.”

The first bite just melts on my tongue. Such a fresh taste of strawberries in a light cake with creamy frosting. I hum in appreciation.

“That’s amazing,” Etna says.

Julian nods his agreement. He pushes the little plate aside as Amelia tells us the cake is a play on strawberries and cream with fresh strawberries in the middle and the cake baked with frozen strawberries, so they remain intact.

Julian brings over another cake. Once more, I cut it into three and take a bite.

All three of us moan in appreciation. I’ve never tasted something so good. “Okay, I’m going to need a tub of this frosting,” Etna says.

“That’s my take on a hot cocoa cake. I’ve been perfecting that recipe since I was thirteen.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” I say.

Julian snorts and pushes the cake away again. “You like this better or less than the strawberry one?”

“Better,” Etna and I say together.

He places it to the left. “We’ll keep them ranked in order of how much you like them. It’ll be easier to decide which flavors are your favorite.”

“Already, you’re the best manager we’ve ever had,” I muse as he brings us a third cake.