Page 93 of Goalie Secrets

Back at home, Blake isn’t so easy to shoo away. He lets himself in and starts looking into my pantry.

“Tell me you’ve got more than protein shakes in here. There wasn’t shit to eat at the hospital.”

My stomach grumbles at the mention of food. “I’ve got some leftover chili I can heat up for us.”

I barely have time to turn on my stove before the door flies open. Randi, Sean, and Gordon pile in like a chaotic tornado, arms loaded with fast-food bags, drinks, and an unmistakable sense of entitlement. Sean holds up my cell phone before tossing it to me.

“Straight from the airport!” Randi announces, flopping into one of the dining room chairs like he owns the place, ripping into a bag with zero hesitation. “Barely time for this pit stop, man. We’re starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Sean mutters, swiping a fry from Randi’s bag before grabbing his own.

“Wait, who got the double bacon cheeseburger?” Gordon calls out, holding up a grease-stained wrapper.

“Me,” Randi says, snatching it with the reflexes of someone who’s fought for food before. “This is better than you and your sad little chicken sandwich.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it clean,” Sean replies, holding up his sandwich like it’s a trophy. “Athlete’s diet.”

“Clean? There’s enough mayo on that thing to drown a toddler,” Randi says, gesturing with a fry.

Amid the laughter and the noise, I lean against the counter, shaking my head. It’s chaos, pure and simple, but the kind that reminds me that my team is family.

“Got an extra burger for me?” Blake asks timidly. Randi throws him a fry before pulling out another burger.

“Hey, what about Jeremy’s sad chicken sandwich?” Sean finally says, turning to me with a raised brow.

“It’s under that pile of ketchup packets,” Randi says, stuffing the last of his burger in his face while strolling into my kitchen. “Ooh, wait, real food. Is this chili?” His face is deep in my fridge.

“Touch my leftovers, and you’re dead,” I warn, but there’s no heat in it.

“Relax, chef,” Gordon says with a grin. “We brought enough for Randi’s third serving. We’ll even share, if you ask nicely. You should be thanking us.”

“For what? Turning my place into a drive-thru? At least when I feed you it’s homemade.”

“Then for keeping you company,” Sean says with mock seriousness, raising his sandwich like a wine glass. “Missed you out there, man.”

This is what I needed tonight. A reminder that these guys are here for me. The pressure on my chest eases a little.

But there’s still an unshakable weight on my conscience. Having my friends cheer me up clears the headspace I need to text her.

Me:I’m sorry about today. I would beg to come over right now but the guys are checking in on me. Can I come over later tonight?

Vanya doesn’t text me back. I try to distract myself by heating up my chili for the men with bottomless stomachs. An hour later, she still hasn’t answered.

I have the code to her garage from the last few months that I’ve let myself in after hockey games. The sensation of slipping into her warm bed in the middle of the night, her sleepy moan as she snuggles against me, nearly makes me choke with longing. I stare at my phone screen, willing her to text me back.

“There he is, texting the mystery Jazz Hands lady,” Randi snickers. “Hey Blake, did Jeremy have any lady visitors while you were babysitting him in the hospital?”

My grip stiffens around my phone.

“Just the doctors,” Blake answers with a shrug.

I rinse the plates that piled up so I can look away from their inquiring faces.

Just the doctors.

Just the love of my life.

I wake to chaos.