Page 6

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holky

Dog apparently ran on the same internal clock I did—no need to break anything rushing around because better late than never and all that. Harpy had texted that the welcome lunch would be at noon, and it was about 12:25 when Dog and I strolled into AC’s. The restaurant host led us to the private room in the back, where the tables were lined up in a big rectangle so we could see each other. Almost all the seats were taken, and a quick scan told me there were only a few empty chairs left, none side by side.

“Hell, have we got another man who runs late?” Logan rolled his eyes but grinned as he stood and gave us both man-hugs.

Around the table, the guys called out greetings, and Harpy waved us over. “Glad you two made it. I was ready to text Holky and see if he’d forgotten how to get here.”

Dog bumped Harpy’s fist. “Don’t blame Holky. I couldn’t find the pants I wanted to wear.”

Harpy and I bumped while Gabe called from across the table. “Don’t tell me we have another high-style boy.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Brody, sitting next to Gabe, elbowed him in the arm.

Gabe elbowed him right back. “Just saying we don’t need anyone else preening for the cameras.”

Brody barked out a sharp laugh. “Afraid of a little competition? You’re the biggest fashion model on the team.”

“That’s the fucking truth,” Riley said. “Us young guys need to take over with a modern fashion sense. What do you say, Mad Dog? Brody?”

Brody and Riley were sitting next to each other, and they did a stupid handshake they’d made up one day while we watched football at my house. Their team won, and they said the handshake was good luck.

“Mad Dog?” Brody called. “You in?”

Dog put on a cocky grin. “Fuck yeah. This bunch could use a fashion upgrade.”

After Dog and Brody raised their arms and traded a virtual high-five, I leaned close to Dog. “You’ll have to learn to use an iron first.”

He snorted, and our eyes met. Something about his big brown irises pulled me in, and I wondered if we were thinking the same thing, that it was cool we had a private joke.

Harpy interrupted. “Okay, boys, let’s get this show on the road.” He nodded at the open chair between him and Packy. “This is the hot seat, Mad Dog.”

I glanced around, and the nearest empty seat was across the table from Dog, on the other side of Gabe from Brody. Gabe and I were close, so I normally wouldn’t have minded sitting with him, but today was different. I didn’t want to leave Dog alone. Not that he wouldn’t be fine because he’d already shown he could hold his own with a bunch of rowdy hockey players. But still.

I wanted to sit next to him, so I clapped a hand on Packy’s shoulder. “Go over there with Gabe, will you? I want to stay with Dog.”

Packy turned his head, eyes narrowing. “What the hell? I’ve already got my water and everything.”

“Take it the fuck with you. Come on, Dog’s new, and I want to sit with him. We’re buds.”

It wasn’t until the words were out that I realized how they sounded, and I didn’t have time to cringe before the chirping started.

“How sweet.”

“Aw, look at that. A new couple.”

“Check this out, guys,” Billy Nelson hollered from the far end of the table. “They’re already road boyfriends, and we haven’t even had a trip with Mad Dog yet.”

That kicked off another chorus of predictable bullshit until someone called out, “Holky keep you nice and warm last night, Mad Dog?”

It was all standard teammate hazing. Hockey players loved to razz each other about so-called road wives and happy couples.

Dog, in a move straight out of How to Survive a Bunch of Good-Natured Jerks , raised his hand, middle finger high in the air. “Fuck all of you. And you can call me Dog sometimes. It doesn’t always have to be the whole mouthful.”

“Bet you got a mouthful last night.” It was Riley, always the juvenile among us.

“Dog it is.” Gabe stood and looked around, saving us from Riley’s awkwardness. “Let’s give Dog another Warriors welcome, everybody.”

Harpy gave the cue, and we all clapped in unison, gearing up for the full battle cry.

Dog held up a hand. “That’s enough. I heard it yesterday.”

I tapped my foot against his. “You don’t like the way we scream?”

“I like it fine,” he said, “but we’re in public. Don’t want to scare any innocent kids or seniors.”

After another round of laughs, Dog and Harpy sat. I knocked on the back of Packy’s chair. “Chop chop, Packy. I’m waiting.”

He grabbed his water glass and gave me a long look. Even as he moved around the table, he kept staring at me. No smirk, no laugh—just held my gaze until he arrived at his new seat.

Does he know something I don’t?

* * *

AC’s was on Delaware Avenue in the historic district, and when we started home, I pointed out a few landmarks. After a while, Dog held up his hands like he was taking notes in the air.

“Shit, too much?” Since we were stopped for a light, I studied his face. There was no doubt we shared a similar sense of humor, but in a moment of surprise, I realized I didn’t only want to make him laugh. I wanted him to be happy.

He tipped his hand side to side. “Not usually, but I’m stuffed after that meal. Wouldn’t want to go to sleep on you.”

We talked hockey all the way back to Wanakah, and before heading home, I swung by the store to grab a case of an Oregon IPA I wanted Dog to try. As beer enthusiasts, we got carried away and stayed longer than planned, finally leaving with two cases—mine, and a Canadian brew from Moosehead that Dog swore was a game-changer.

“The guys seemed nice at lunch,” he said, once we were back in the car. “No sourpusses on the team?”

“Yeah, the one who wasn’t there. Pittsburgh didn’t renew Mikhail Abdulov’s contract last year, so the Warriors signed him over the summer. He never comes to team events, doesn’t speak to anyone at practices and games, and looks at all of us like we’re idiots.”

Dog made a face. “Ouch. Is he doing anything this season?”

“Had a couple of assists. That’s about it.”

“Damn.” Dog’s phone pinged, and after he dug it out and glanced at the screen, he spent a moment typing. “That was Nana,” he said, lowering the phone. “What about Gabe and Brody? They seem great.”

We reached the street where I lived, and I put on the turn signal. “Brody used to play for Boston, but they traded him to the Warriors a year ago. He and Gabe got close right away, but the idiots tried to hide it from us.”

“Did it work?” He set the phone in his lap and focused on me.

“Hell no. They only had eyes for each other, and most of us had it figured out by the time the regular season started. They didn’t come clean until January, and by then it was old news.”

He laughed. “That’s fucking rich. Everybody knows there are no secrets on a hockey team.”

“We love them, though. We’ve currently got a pool going about how long it will be until they get married. You could probably still get in on that.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I pulled into the driveway and touched the button to open the garage. While the door began its slow ascent, I glanced over at Dog, who was looking at me.

The sun caught his eyes, which flickered like stars in the sky. Indoors, they were dark brown, but now they were something else entirely. Hints of amber glinted at the edges, and brown layers were accented by flecks of gold. A shimmer crossed them, almost a ripple, pulling me in.

His scent wrapped around me—clean sweat and warm cologne, floral notes mixed with something darker. Was it cocoa, or was my brain screwing with me because I couldn’t stop staring into his goddamn eyes? They were… Fuck, they were beautiful.

He shifted, and the sound of his clothes brushing the leather seat was deafening in the quiet. My pulse thudded in my throat, and my fingers twitched with an impulse to reach out and— what ? Grab him? Keep him still so we could stay there for a while? What the hell is happening to me?

My skin buzzed, and something inside me rattled hard enough to leave my hands shaky and my breath uneven. I didn’t want to run, but I didn’t want to stop looking either. I wanted more.

It was like watching someone else move when I leaned in, helpless against whatever was pulling me. His eyes widened, but he didn’t move away or say anything. At the last second, I caught myself and pulled back.

Goddamn. This isn’t real. It can’t be. I need to get more sleep.

I was happy to be making a new friend, glad not to be alone, but I was not…

No. I was not .

Whatever the fuck was going on, our eyes weren’t ready to let go. His breathing had quickened, and his dark red lips were slightly parted. They looked soft and warm. A small moan slipped out of me, but if he heard it, he gave no sign. Instead, he flicked his tongue over his lips and furrowed his brow, looking as confused as I felt. We might’ve sat there forever, locked in thought, if the garage door hadn’t started closing.

We both jumped as it rumbled downward, and I was finally able to tear my eyes away from him. When I turned back, he was watching me again, wearing a cockeyed smile. “Can we hang out at home tonight?” he asked. “Not sure I’m up for another round of Braelynn and Willa.”

“Oh my God. They were a trip. Did I tell you Willa had her hand on my dick? She said she was already getting wet for me.”

He shook his head. “Shit, dude. Braelynn squeezed mine a few times and told me how empty she felt.”

“Damn. Guess I really was a cockblock, huh?”

A line appeared between his eyes, and he lost some of his smile. “We already talked about this. I wasn’t feeling it.”

I touched the button to open the garage again, then gave Dog a look. “You sure? You were looking into it over there. Your cheeks were red, and?—”

“I’m not saying it didn’t feel good.” He smiled, shaking his head. “What about you? I thought I might have to listen to you and Willa fucking all night.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You’d have been too busy fucking Braelynn.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I nodded. “Next time, we’ll have a crazy night.”

He didn’t answer, and I felt like an idiot. I’d said it because that’s what I always did—run my big mouth and act like a sex-crazed big shot. Looking into his eyes like that and feeling—who the fuck knew what I’d been feeling—had left me so nervous I started acting like a frat guy to get things back to normal. Dog had played along, but I had a feeling neither of us had said what we were really thinking. We’d been trying to escape from an awkward situation.

“Let’s get our beer inside and kick back,” I said. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

I pulled into the garage and killed the engine. By the time I got out of the car, Dog was waiting at the door into the house. I walked over and typed in the code. “It’s 1-9-6-9, the year they landed on the moon. If you ever get stuck outside, the code for the back door’s the same. Oh, and remind me to give you a garage door opener.”