Page 55 of Slew Foot (Scoring Chances #3)

“Nothing!” Rafe said. He shoved his phone in his suit pocket and tried to straighten his tie.

“You and Tanner aren’t planning a surprise party or something, are you?”

“Noooo,” Rafe said, which was totally true. He had finally gotten ahold of a bakery that could make the plum cake though.

It had taken a trip across town to the bakery to talk to the owner’s mother, an ancient German lady who didn’t look impressed by his sad attempts to speak her language.

But eventually they got on the same page about it all and, in two days, there would be a plum cake for him to pick up.

At least, Rafe hoped nothing had gone seriously wrong in translation. The bakery owner had promised him although they didn’t typically make that style of cake, there was no reason she couldn’t use her mother’s guidance and her own skills to create what he was looking for.

Now all they could do was wait.

“I’m very glad you texted me,” Catherine said with a smile as she walked Mickey up to his apartment following an appointment with an audiologist a couple of days later.

“Well, everyone keeps yelling at me to accept more help,” he said with a sigh.

She smiled. “That’s because we care about you. And I know it’s a hard lesson to learn. But I’m glad you’re learning it now.”

Mickey wasn’t entirely sure he was glad , but it had made Catherine and Rafe happy when he’d asked her if she could drive him to his appointment.

Unfortunately, so far, there was no improvement in any of his symptoms.

In fact, the vertigo had been particularly bad this morning, which was why he’d texted her in the first place. It was frustrating, but everyone kept telling him to keep up hope, so Mickey was trying.

Not very successfully, but he was trying.

It was late afternoon when Mickey unlocked the apartment door, and he was surprised to see Rafe and Tanner weren’t home. Practice had ended hours ago. Rafe had mentioned something about running an errand but what could he have to do that was taking so long?

“Before you go,” Mickey said to Catherine as he remembered something. “I have your pans from the meals you and Aubrey made if you want to come in for a minute while I grab them. That was very nice of you. Rafe and I both appreciated it.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” she said. “And I can certainly take the pans back, but I’ll let you in on a clever little secret.

I buy them all from the thrift store. It’s a trick I learned years ago from one of the other hockey wives.

Rather than buy a bunch of disposable containers, pick up inexpensive glass and ceramic pans from a resale shop that you won’t have to worry about getting back. ”

“That is clever,” Mickey agreed as he pulled out the dishes she’d given him.

“Those women were wonderfully supportive whenever I was struggling,” she said. “And many of us are still friends to this day. I do like that your generation has dubbed us SAPs instead of WAGs though.”

Mickey grinned. “I do believe that started in Toronto.”

“It seems to be spreading though,” she said. “I heard it referenced on a national broadcast recently.”

“That’s good,” Mickey said.

“There’s a community app for it, right?” she asked. “Something Charlie Monaghan developed.”

“Yes. The S-A-P-S App. It stands for Spouses and Partners Support, I think. I haven’t joined it though.”

“You and Rafe would both be welcome, right? Since you’re dating NHL players.” She smiled.

Mickey smiled too. “Yes. Although it feels a little different when you’re also an NHL player, I think.”

He felt an ache in the pit of his stomach as he thought about what would happen if he was no longer one. If he had to retire from pro hockey at the age of twenty-four. If he had to adjust to the role of simply being a spouse or partner of a player.

If Rafe kept playing without him.

His smile fell and Catherine must have known what line of thinking he’d gone down because she reached out and took his hand. “It’ll be okay, Mickey. Whatever happens. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But you will learn to adapt, if necessary.”

He let out a shuddering sigh and nodded.

“And you’re not alone. You’re learning to reach out for help, yes?”

“I’m learning,” he agreed.

“Well, that community might be another good resource for you.”

“True.”

“And you have a wonderful partner to help.”

“I do,” Mickey said a little thickly as he thought about Rafe bringing him coffee this morning.

He’d been acting a little weird lately and Mickey’s money was still on the theory Rafe and Tanner were cooking up some kind of surprise. Mickey just hoped if it was a party to celebrate his recovery, there was an actual recovery to celebrate. Instead of some sort of sad pity party.

The apartment door opened a moment later. “Mickey?” Rafe called out. “Are you home?”

“In here,” he called back, adding, “With Catherine,” in case Rafe had the idea to do something crazy like walk in naked. He’d never done that before, but Mickey could totally imagine it happening.

“Oh awesome,” Tanner said, bouncing into the room. “Hi, Mrs. O.”

“Hi, Tanner,” she said with a little laugh as she reached out to give him a hug. “Good to see you.”

Huh, Rafe and Tanner must have been doing something together then. No wonder it had taken so long for them to get back.

Rafe appeared a moment later, walking more slowly and carrying a flat rectangular white box. “Surprise!”

“What is this?” Mickey asked, stepping forward. He peered through the clear plastic on the top and blinked when he saw slices of purple plum nestled in a beautiful golden cake. “Rafe?”

“Zuh-vech-guhn-koo-hen!” Rafe said, sounding it out very carefully.

Mickey reached out, his hand hovering near the box before falling back to his side. “How on earth did you … where did you find this?”

“Uhh, well,” Rafe said, and he sounded so uneasy Mickey glanced up to see him grimacing. “I kinda snooped through your phone.”

Mickey frowned. “For what ?”

“Your mom’s number. I mean, I really did grab your phone from your hand because I was afraid the messages were going to wake you up or you’d like, throw it on the floor if you rolled over in your sleep.

But then I saw the message was from your mom and then I thought, well, I could message her and ask her about the cake and … you’re not mad , are you?”

“Mad?” Mickey whispered. “No, not at all. That was sweet.”

“Awesome. I asked Tanner if he thought it was okay and he said it was, but like, I do not trust him when it comes to relationships.”

Tanner made an outraged noise in the background, but Mickey ignored him. “Good call.”

“So I asked Connor and he and Jesse thought it was okay, and I was like, ‘well, they have a good relationship so …’”

Mickey smiled. “You can snoop in my phone any time you’d like. I have nothing to hide from you.”

“Same,” Rafe said so promptly. “I mean, now that you know about the cake anyway.”

Mickey laughed. “So, you—you talked to my mom?”

“Yeah. I texted her asking about the cake and like, where I could have it shipped in from in Germany but she said she thought it was better if I found a German bakery here, so I messaged Catherine about that …”

Mickey looked up to see Catherine smiling at them.

Rafe continued without taking a breath. “… and then I had to talk to this little old lady at the bakery who looked kind of offended when I tried to talk to her in German, but I think we got it right.”

“You learned German for me?”

Rafe made a face. “Only the cake name and please and thank you. And I’m so bad it’s not even funny. But I tried .”

“I love that you tried,” Mickey said thickly. “Rafe …” He stretched out, touching Rafe’s cheek as he kissed him.

This was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him.

“How about we give them some privacy, Tanner?” Catherine said. “How would you feel about coming over for dinner?”

“I mean, you’re a great cook,” Tanner replied. “And I’d love that. But I went all the way across town with Rafe, and I was kinda hoping to try the cake …”

“I am sure there will still be some left when you get back later,” she assured him, their voices getting more distant as they left the kitchen.

“Fine,” Tanner said, raising his voice. “But I think it’s kind of rude I’m getting kicked out of my own apartment …”

Mickey laughed against Rafe’s mouth, but when the door closed a moment later, Mickey gently pushed Rafe back against the fridge and deepened the kiss. When they finally came up for air, Rafe’s hair was mussed. Mickey stole another glance at the cake.

“I can’t believe you did all that for me,” he whispered.

“I’d do anything for you,” Rafe said.

Mickey smiled because he thought Rafe probably would. “So you talked to my mom, huh?”

“Yeah, we, uh, actually kinda kept texting?” Rafe said. “Oh, and I have a group chat with your sisters now too. Hope that’s okay.”

Mickey was going to have a lot of questions about that later but at the moment, he was torn about whether he wanted to eat cake or drag Rafe into the bedroom more.

When he said that aloud, Rafe shrugged. “I mean, you can do both.”

It wasn’t a bad suggestion, so Mickey stepped away and lifted the lid of the box. The scent was so familiar he couldn’t help but smile. “It looks exactly like Oma’s cake,” he whispered, touched by the gesture all over again.

“Good. That’s why I needed your mom’s help. There were like … waaay too many types.”

“So you found a bakery that made this type?” Mickey asked, pulling out a knife to cut it with.

“No,” Rafe said. “None of the bakeries actually make it. They said it wasn’t really sweet enough for most people around here so it never sells well.

But I found a place with a lady who had an old German mother who had a recipe that sounded like the one you liked, and I talked her into making it.

She said it’ll be even better in late summer or early fall when the right kind of plums are ripe. ”

Mickey smiled as he lifted two generous slices onto the plate. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t wait.”