Page 27 of Slew Foot (Scoring Chances #3)

The shower had been worth it, Rafe decided as Tanner helped him crawl into bed a little while later.

He barely had the energy to exist, but his lungs didn’t hurt so much, and he was fresh and clean.

Mickey had changed the sheets on the bed while he was gone, and they felt cool and smooth against his damp skin.

He settled in bed with a tired but happy sigh.

“I’ve gotta go get ready for practice,” Tanner said, looking apologetic as he patted his hair dry. “You need anything else before I go?”

Rafe thought about it, then shook his head. “I think I’m okay. Thanks for the assist in the shower. You’re a real one.”

Tanner grinned. “No prob, dude.”

They bumped fists.

Honestly, it hadn’t been so bad. Kinda like showering at the arena, but Tanner had been closer in case the wall didn’t do its job holding him up when he got wobbly. Tanner had pretty much spent the whole time chirping him about random shit anyway, which made it a lot less weird.

Even if Rafe’s laughing had set off another coughing fit which made him wonder if his lungs were going to end up on the tile floor.

And yeah, Rafe had handled washing all his own bits, thankyouverymuch .

Mickey came in a few minutes later, carrying food on a baking tray. “We don’t have a bed tray, and I wasn’t sure how hungry you were but …”

“That looks perfect ,” Rafe said with a happy sigh. There was tea and orange juice and fruit and scrambled eggs, and toast cut up into little shapes. He reached for the toast immediately.

“Toast tastes better when it’s in little shapes,” he happily mumbled around one piece.

Mickey gave him a soft look. “Yeah? I did it because—because my mom used to do that when I was sick as a kid.”

“Mine too,” Rafe muttered. A few crumbs went flying and he brushed them off the covers because, eww , who wanted crumbs in the nice clean sheets? Besides, Mickey had gone to all this hard work and he didn’t want Mickey to think he was ungrateful.

“How was your shower?” Mickey asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Good. Thanks for changing my sheets.” Rafe smiled at him.

“You owe me one,” Mickey teased. He looked tired though. There were circles under his eyes and his shoulders were kinda slumped.

“Yeah, I do,” Rafe said softly. “You and Tanner both.”

“You scared us,” Mickey said, staring down at the covers.

“Is that why you slept in here last night?”

Mickey shrugged. “Just—just wanted to be sure your fever didn’t go too high.”

Rafe nodded, not sure what to say. “I hope I didn’t get you sick.”

“Me too. But I’ll deal with it if it happens.”

“Don’t you have to get going?” Rafe asked. “I mean, I like hanging out, but you’ve got practice and …”

“ Schei?e !” Mickey lurched to his feet, still talking as he hurried out the door. “Yeah, I’m going. Text if you need anything! Oh, and there’s cough medicine in the bag on the nightstand!”

A few minutes later, Mickey and Tanner were gone, and the apartment was quiet. Rafe finished eating, then set the baking tray on the floor, the empty dishes rattling a little.

He settled back into bed, too tired to keep his eyes open. Dude, he played pro hockey. A shower and breakfast shouldn’t wear him out …

The sun was higher in the sky when he woke with a deep, rasping cough. Once the coughing fit was over and he’d had some water, he reached for the bag on the nightstand.

In it, he found several kinds of cough medicine. Rafe wondered how in the hell Mickey had managed to get it and make breakfast so quickly, when he found the delivery slip from the pharmacy. Smart.

Rafe went for the liquid stuff in the red bottle, confused when it went down syrupy sweet and leaving his mouth tasting like cherry. Where was the blast of cool? The watering eyes? Why weren’t his sinuses blown out and his throat and ears tingling?

He squinted at the bottle and sighed. Ugh . Not Buckley’s. American cough syrup sucked .

Still, that wasn’t Mickey’s fault.

I should do something nice for him, Rafe thought as he set the bottle on the nightstand. But his eyes were getting heavy again and the moment he got comfy on his side, he fell asleep again.

Rafe awoke the next time to Mickey and Tanner coming back from practice. Rafe called out a croaky greeting.

“How’re you feelin’, bud?” Tanner asked, poking his head through the half-open door.

“Like death,” Rafe said with a shrug. “But like … less death than yesterday? So I guess that’s good?”

“That is good,” Mickey said, shouldering past Tanner. “Did you rest?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said. “I slept all morning. Just woke up coughing a bit and then went right back to sleep.”

Mickey picked up the baking tray from the floor. “You ready for some lunch?”

Rafe considered it. “Soup?”

“I’ve got cans of chicken and stars waiting for you.”

Rafe smiled at him. “You’re the best.”

“Ugh,” Tanner said. “You two are gross. You’re not even dating and you’re gross.”

He disappeared, leaving Rafe and Mickey staring at each other.

“I’ll, uh, get the soup,” Mickey said and disappeared out the door like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Rafe nodded pointlessly, then reached for his phone.

Ugh. He was so tired of being tired .

He played something dumb on his phone while he waited for Mickey.

This time when he came in, the baking tray held a big bowl of soup, crackers, and a bunch more water. “Thanks,” Rafe said, shifting to lean against the headboard.

“Do you want company while you eat?” Mickey asked as he set the pan on Rafe’s thighs.

“Sure. If you’re sure you aren’t worried about getting sick.”

“I think at this point I’ve already been exposed, or I haven’t. I’m not sure it matters.”

Rafe shrugged and reached for his spoon. “Then yeah, that’d be great.”

A few minutes later, Tanner and Mickey came in with the meals they’d brought home from the team chef. Mickey sat at the foot of the bed and Tanner brought in a chair.

Happy, Rafe ate chicken and stars soup and blew his nose a lot while Tanner and Mickey told him all about practice.

“And get this,” Tanner said. “Strads scored on Ducky! He was so fucking mad about it too.”

“Ducky?” Rafe asked.

“Webby? Webber? Jesse?” Tanner prompted until Rafe nodded.

“Oh! Yeah. Sorry. I know I heard people call him Ducky at some point but …” Rafe shrugged. He was terrible with names even when his head didn’t feel like it was stuffed with snot. “How’d he get that nickname anyway?”

“His girls called him that. Not sure if it was Evie or Maura.”

“Connor’s girls?” Rafe asked.

“Well, Jesse calls them his now too, so …” Tanner shrugged. “Nolan too, of course.”

Rafe smiled. They were a cute family. Jesse and Connor always took the time to say hi to the girls when someone in the O’Shea family brought them to games, waving and blowing kisses through the glass.

Connor’s teenage son, who was supposedly growing up to be a very talented hockey player, was often there too.

It hit Rafe how much Connor had risked, dating a teammate. Not only the stability of the team, but bringing someone into his kids’ lives? That was a big fucking deal. He wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t sure Jesse was right for him. If he wasn’t sure Jesse was worth the risk.

Rafe looked up to see Mickey laughing at something Tanner said and felt a little pang of want. Not even sexual desire, though that had been flickering to life lately. But mostly the urge to be close to Mickey. To know what the spot where his neck met his shoulder smelled like.

To know what the skin of his jaw would feel like against his lips. To know he and Mickey were in this together.

“Right, Turtle?” Tanner asked.

“Right,” he said automatically then immediately regretted it when Tanner and Mickey both laughed.

Shit, what had he agreed to?

After lunch, Tanner finally hooked up the TV Rafe had brought from Minnesota and hadn’t gotten around to setting up yet. He put on a movie, sprawling at the foot of the bed while Mickey sat beside Rafe.

They hadn’t gotten very far into the movie when Rafe realized it was taking way more energy than he had to sit up.

He shifted, trying to find a position where he could lie down and still see the TV without much luck.

He grumbled, shoving at the covers to bunch them up into a pillow.

A moment later, an actual pillow appeared.

Rafe shot Mickey a grateful look and tucked the foam cushion under his cheek. But no matter how many times he bunched it up, he still couldn’t see over Tanner’s body.

“Oh my God, would you stop wiggling ?” Tanner said, flailing behind him and smacking Rafe’s knee, which probably hurt him more than it did Rafe.

“That’s usually what I say to you,” Mickey said drily.

“It is my bed,” Rafe pointed out. “And I can’t see the TV. You’re in the way, dude.”

“Yeah, well I’m the reason your TV is working,” Tanner said, like Rafe couldn’t have plugged in a couple of cables himself, if he’d had the time.

And, like, motivation.

Mickey let out a huff and shifted his knee, bumping the top of Rafe’s head. “Here,” he said, patting his thigh, like he wanted Rafe to use it for a pillow.

Rafe gave him a surprised look, but he shrugged like it was no big deal.

And maybe it wasn’t? Just because Mickey wanted him, maybe was in love with him like Tanner had said earlier, didn’t mean it had to mean anything. He’d probably do the same for Tanner.

But Rafe secretly hoped not.

So Rafe shoved the pillow out of the way, scooted closer, then settled his cheek against the soft black cotton of Mickey’s sweats. His thigh was hard—he wasn’t a guy who looked huge but he was still very muscular—and he was warm and smelled like laundry soap and body wash.

Rafe shifted a little, trying to find the best position.

Tanner grumbled again and Mickey settled a hand in Rafe’s hair, stroking a little. It was a light touch, but Rafe let out a breath, his shoulders softening, like someone had pulled the plug on his restlessness.

Under Rafe’s cheek, Mickey’s tense muscle softened, like he was relaxing too.