Page 10 of Slew Foot (Scoring Chances #3)

“’lo?” Rafe said, voice rough as he lifted the phone to his ear the following morning.

“I’m at the hotel,” Mickey said, sounding amused. “But I guess I’m too early again?”

“Uhh.” Rafe squinted at the clock. Okay, so it wasn’t after noon this time, but it was still a lot later than he’d planned to get up. “Shit. Sorry. I swear was gonna be up and ready today. I must’ve hit snooze or something.”

“It’s fine. Meet you in the lobby café again.”

He was gone so fast Rafe blinked. “Okay, I can do this,” he said to the empty room.

He ended the call and threw back the covers, forcing himself up and out of bed before he gave in to the call of its fluffy softness again.

Mickey had offered to pick him up and take him to HCI again this morning. Rafe had set an alarm and everything, totally planning to be on time and waiting downstairs for Mickey when he got here.

He’d failed.

Way to show your new team you’ve got your shit together , he thought as he staggered into the bathroom. He skipped the shower he’d been planning to take, focusing on emptying his bladder and brushing his teeth instead.

Rafe frowned in the mirror at his thick stubble edging up into a beard. He’d planned to clean up a little this morning, but he’d have to do it later.

Back in the room, he dragged on sweatpants and a T-shirt. A hoodie went on over it, a toque took care of his wild hair, and he took long enough to make sure he had his phone, wallet and keycard before he threw on trainers and a warm jacket and was out the door.

When Rafe reached the lobby, Mickey was in the same spot he’d been in yesterday, looking as relaxed as he had then.

He glanced up with a small smile. “Good morning.” This time, he offered Rafe a coffee cup and food. A breakfast sandwich, from the looks of it.

“You didn’t have to—” he protested as he took the breakfast, his fingers brushing Mickey’s.

Mickey blinked. “I know I didn’t. But you need fuel, and we don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Rafe grimaced. He turned toward the little bar, intending to sweeten his coffee, but Mickey touched his arm.

“That’s already taken care of. Dark and sweet, like you like.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

He realized he’d fallen behind, so he hurried along in Mickey’s wake, trotting behind him like a duckling.

In the car, he fumbled to do up his seatbelt and not spill his coffee, but Mickey gave him a faintly amused look, then took the food and drink, fitting the coffee into the empty cupholder between the seats.

“Sorry,” Rafe said meekly when he was securely strapped in. “I’m kind of a mess this morning.”

Or, like, always. Though he would have sworn he kind of had his shit together in Minnesota.

“No worries.” Mickey handed over the food, then gunned the engine and took off.

Rafe braced himself. Catherine O’Shea hadn’t been kidding when she’d mentioned Mickey was prepared for Massachusetts drivers.

Rafe, on the other hand, was not.

But Mickey hadn’t killed him yesterday, and he’d brought him food, so Rafe wouldn’t complain.

He unwrapped the crinkling paper from around a breakfast sandwich and let out a low groan. It smelled so good. There was even back bacon on it. Or, as the Americans called it, Canadian bacon. Whatever it was called, it was Rafe’s favorite. Especially in a breakfast sandwich.

“You’re the best,” he muttered around his food as they stopped at a light.

Unfortunately, that sent a small piece of bacon flying. It landed on the console between their seats. Mickey glanced down with an arched eyebrow.

Mickey’s car was very clean. Like … unnaturally clean for a hockey player.

“Sorry,” Rafe said, picking it up and eating it before scrubbing at the spot with a napkin.

“You don’t have to apologize for everything. You do know that, right?” Mickey offered.

“Sure I do,” Rafe said cheerfully. “It’s Canadian law.”

Mickey chuckled. “Good to know.”

“Seriously,” Rafe said before he took a sip of his coffee. It was perfectly dark and sweet.

Like you. He heard an echo of the words Mickey had said yesterday.

Surely Rafe had heard him wrong though. Mickey didn’t seem the type to say romantic things, and he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in dating teammates. He’d probably been repeating his order so he’d remember it for the future.

Besides, very few guys were into the whole demi thing. They never wanted to stick around when they found out it took him a long time to ever get to the sexual attraction part of dating.

“Seriously, the Canadian government makes you apologize constantly?” Mickey sounded doubtful.

Rafe chuckled. “No. Not that. Seriously, I’m sorry I’ve been kind of a mess since I got here and made you wait for me and everything.”

Mickey shrugged, taking a corner at a speed Rafe was fairly sure was illegal. “I’m not upset.”

“I—” Rafe sighed, taking a bite of his breakfast to give himself time to think about what he wanted to say. “Toward the end there in Minnie?—”

“Minnie?” Mickey asked with a frown.

Rafe nearly laughed aloud. Mickey and Minnie …

“Uhh, Minnie is short for Minneapolis,” he explained. “I think it’s mostly just hockey players who call it that. Most people call it the Twin Cities. But toward the end there, my playing was pretty bad. I just want—I want to do better now, you know?”

“I understand.”

“I got …” He glanced down at his food. “I got too, like, wrapped up in my relationship with my teammate, Logan, I guess. We started dating and when we broke up, it was bad for the team.”

“Ahh.”

“So, I want to do better now, you know?” Rafe’s throat went a little tight.

“Yes, I know.”

“So, I’m mad at myself for sleeping in and making us late and?—”

“We’re not late though,” Mickey said calmly. “We’re doing fine.”

A glance at the clock told Rafe that was true.

“Okay, but only because you got here early and bought me breakfast and?—”

“Rafe,” Mickey said, his voice rising a little. “Stop.”

Rafe clamped his lips together, both surprised by Mickey’s tone and how it instantly made him shut up.

“You’re okay ,” Mickey said more softly. “I know you want to make a good impression here, but you had a terrible start with the long flight. Don’t beat yourself up because you had a rough couple of mornings.”

“Okay.” Rafe slumped back in his seat.

Mickey patted his thigh and Rafe glanced down, surprised by the touch.

“Sorry.” Mickey lifted his hand away. “Didn’t mean to?—”

“No, it’s okay,” Rafe said. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah. I think we’re gonna be,” Mickey said softly as he turned the car into the parking lot of HCI.

Rafe laughed as a thought occurred to him. “Hey, you know, maybe the apologizing is contagious and some of my Canadian-ness rubbed off on you.”

Mickey shot him a smile. “Maybe so.”

Mickey followed Tanner toward the practice rink, the rubberized flooring that ran from the locker room to the ice flexing a little under his skate blades.

Rafe was going to fucking kill him. Not intentionally of course. Not because he was trying, but because with every second they spent together, Mickey felt more and more fond of him.

He was so big and earnest and sweet and … Mickey took a deep breath to settle himself. Not the place for this , he told himself firmly.

The air was cool and smelled faintly of ozone from the ice resurfacer fluid. The familiarity of it did settle a little of the jangly feeling coursing through him all morning.

He could do this. He could be teammates with a guy he was attracted to.

It wasn’t a problem he’d ever had before, but he could handle it. It was fine. He’d help Rafe get settled, then maybe limit their interactions to team stuff …

“Hey, so, I asked Rafe if he wanted to do lunch with us after practice,” Tanner said cheerfully, throwing the words over his shoulder.

“ What ?” Mickey said hoarsely.

He stopped in his tracks, his stick falling to the floor when Crawford ran right into him. He would have knocked Mickey over if he hadn’t clapped a hand on his shoulder and stopped him from pitching forward.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, dude,” Crawford grumbled. He skirted around Mickey with a roll of his eyes, continuing on, oblivious to Mickey’s current crisis.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? When you were quiet on the outside, no one had any idea how much was going on inside.

“You okay there?” Tanner asked. He’d turned back and was eyeing Mickey with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Uhh, yeah, caught the toe of my skate or something,” Mickey said. He bent down to pick up his stick, grateful for the chances to hide the warmth in his face at the lie.

“Oh. Well, did you hear me? Rafe’s coming to lunch with us.”

“Yeah? Great,” Mickey managed and continued walking. “That’s great. It was, uh, nice of you to invite him.”

Tanner fell into step beside him. “Yeah, he seems like a cool dude. Did you know he games? He said he brought his Switch with him to Boston. We were talking about it while we worked out earlier.”

“I did not know that,” Mickey said faintly. Oh fuck. If he and Tanner hit it off and started gaming, there would be no escaping him.

“Yeah, and like, it would be awesome if he was into hanging out with us more. Like, I love this team but dude, it is so fucking hard to find guys who want to game or go out and do stuff, you know?”

“Un-huh.” Mickey gripped his stick a little tighter.

“Like, I thought it was going to be totally dope to be on a team with Jesse, but he’s all …” Tanner waved his glove vaguely. “Sappy about Connor and the girls.”

“I don’t think that’s how you say that,” Mickey said doubtfully. He occasionally made blunders in English, but he was pretty sure this time, it was Tanner. “Isn’t the term S-A-P-s? Spouses and partners?”

“Well, yeah, no, I know he’s trying to be all gender-inclusive and shit after Toronto and not use WAGs. They call themselves SAPs or whatever. But also, like, Jesse is totally fucking sappy about his new little family, you know? All shmoopy and stuff.”

Tanner made a face as he stepped onto the ice.

Following him, Mickey managed a small laugh. Okay, that was true enough, even if he wasn’t quite sure what shmoopy meant. It sounded kind of soft and sticky.

When Jesse had joined the team at the start of the season, Mickey had been prepared for a guy who was wild and outgoing and unable to be tamed.

He was outgoing—friendly and upbeat and constantly trying to lift up the team and give them energy—but he was also one of the most dialed-in goaltenders Mickey had ever met.

He was also incredibly committed to Connor and his daughters. Mickey hadn’t seen that coming at all. Most of the team had known they were hooking up. The way they’d looked at one another for all of October and November had been a dead giveaway.

But Mickey had assumed it was a fling.

Even if the captain didn’t seem like the kind of guy to have a fling—especially with a man—somehow, he and Jesse worked in a relationship.

Mickey had heard how soft Jesse’s voice went during the nightly video chats he did with Connor’s girls and seen how relaxed and at ease Jesse was around Connor when they thought no one was looking, when they thought there was no one to chirp them about it.

They were a great couple.

But yeah, he could see why Tanner was a little disappointed the friend he’d thought he could go out to party with had proven to be more of a homebody than anyone had expected.

“I know I’m not very exciting either,” Mickey said with a rueful smile as he skated slow, easy circles, warming up a little.

Tanner chuckled, batting at a puck with his stick. “Yeah, well, I hardly thought a guy called Mouse was going to be a wild man.”

Fair enough. Mickey didn’t exactly have a reputation for anything but quiet hardworking diligence.

With a nudge of his elbow, Tanner grinned at him. “But hey, at least with you as a roommate, I’m not like swimming in my own filth now.”

Mickey shuddered.

Tanner’s homekeeping habits had been incredibly questionable before he moved in. Now he knew how to load a dishwasher and—theoretically—do laundry. Though he still let it pile up before he did it and never put it away after it came out of the dryer.

“C’mon,” Tanner said, gently thwacking his stick against Mickey’s. “You want to do a little warmup while we wait for the rest of the guys to show up?”

Mickey looked around. It was true, only about half of the team was out. Connor and Jesse and Crawford along with a few of the rookies were milling around, talking more than practicing.

None of the coaches were anywhere in sight.

Nor was Rafe.

“Sure.” Mickey forced his attention back to Tanner. “Let’s do it.”