GRACE: Howโd the press conference go?
ME: It went OK. I blew it on a couple questions, spoke too long. G answers everything short and snappy. Heโs an old pro, tho.
HER: Iโm sure you did great <3
ME: Well, Coach didnโt pull me aside afterward to fire me, so I assume I passed the media test.
I
HER: If he fires you, Iโll kick his ass.
smile at the phone. I just got back to the hotel after tonightโs game against San Jose, and Iโm still feeling energized. Eventually the exhaustion will crash into
me like a tidal wave, but the adrenaline of a game typically takes a while to drain from my system.
ME: Anyway. EAM.
HER: EAM? Iโm too tired to try to decode that.
ME: Enough about me. Tell me about your day.
HER: Can we talk about it tomorrow? Iโm in bed already. Itโs 1 a.m. ๐
I check my phone display. Dammit. Of course sheโs in bed. It might only be ten p.m. here, but itโs way past her
bedtime on the East Coast.
I imagine Grace all snug and warm beneath our flannel bedsheets. Itโs freezing in New England right now, so sheโs probably sleeping in her plaid pants and that long-sleeved shirt with the words SQUIRREL POWER! on it. Neither of us knows what it means, because the shirt has a pineapple on it. She wonโt be wearing any socks, though. She sleeps barefoot no matter the temperature, and her feet are always like little blocks of ice. When weโre curled up in bed, she presses them against my calf because sheโs evil.
I rub my tired eyes. Fuck. I miss her. I type, I miss you.
She doesnโt respond. She mustโve fallen asleep. I stare at the phone for a while waiting for an answer, but it doesnโt come. So I pull up another chat thread and text Garrett.
ME: Quick drink at the bar?
HIM: Sure.
We meet downstairs and find a quiet corner in the lobby bar. Itโs not at all busy, so it doesnโt take long for our beers to arrive. We tap our bottles together, and each take a swig, mine longer than his.
Garrett watches me for a second. โWhatโs wrong?โ โNothing,โ I lie.
His eyes narrow in suspicion. โSwear to God, if youโre about to bitch me out again about Alexander, I refuse to hear it. You broke into our house and planted him there to scare the shit out of Wellsy. If you think Iโm gonna apologize for delivering him to you on Christmas, it ainโt happening, kiddo.โ
Trying not to laugh, I cock my head at him. โYou done?โ โYes,โ he huffs.
โGood. Because I also refuse to apologize. You know why, kiddo? Wait, are we calling each other that now? I donโt get it, but okay, sure. Anyway, weโve all had to suffer at the creepy porcelain hands of Alexander. Hannahโs birthday just happened to be your time of torment.โ
Garrettโs indignation dissolves into a grin. โWho you gonna ship him off to next?โ
โI was thinking maybe a wedding gift for Tuck?โ Our best friend Tucker is finally marrying his baby mama this spring, after three years of living in unwedded sin, that blasphemous asshole. Iโm a bit surprised it took him and Sabrina this long to tie the knotโtheyโve been engaged for- fucking-everโbut I think Sabrina wanted to finish law school first. She graduates from Harvard Law in May.
โDude. No.โ I swear Garrettโs face turns pale. โYou do
not fuck around with peopleโs weddings.โ
โBut the holidays are fair game?โ I counter.
โChicks are happy and agreeable during birthdays and holidays. Weddings? They turn into lunatics.โ He shakes his head in warning. โSabrina will rip your balls off if you do that to her.โ
Heโs probably right. โFine. Iโll dump him on Dean. He deserves it more.โ
โTruth, brother.โ
A pretty, dark-haired young woman saunters past our table and instantly does a double take when she notices us. I brace myself for the wide eyes and piercing shriek, the plea for an autograph or a selfie with the Garrett Graham. But to her credit, she plays it cool.
โGood game tonight,โ she says tentatively, her awed gaze shifting between me and Garrett.
We both tip up our bottles. โThanks,โ Garrett replies with a polite smile.
โYouโre welcome. Enjoy your night.โ She waves and keeps walking, her stilettos clacking against the lobbyโs marble floor. She stops at the front desk to talk to the clerk,
all the while continuing to toss quick looks at us over her shoulder.
โAww, look at that, superstar,โ I mock. โThey donโt even ask you for selfies anymore. Youโre old and washed up.โ
He rolls his eyes. โDidnโt see her asking you for one either, rookie. Now are you gonna tell me why Iโm down here drinking with you instead of getting my beauty sleep?โ
I swallow another mouthful of beer, then slowly set the bottle down.
โIโm worried Grace is gonna break up with me.โ The bleak words hang between us.
Garrett looks shocked. Then, his gray eyes soften with concern. โI didnโt realize you two were having problems.โ
โWeโre not, really. No fighting or anger or cheatingโ nothing like that at all. But thereโs this distance between us,โ I confess. There arenโt many people I feel comfortable turning to for advice, especially about chick problems, but Garrett is a good listener and a damn good friend.
โDistance,โ he echoes.
โYeah. Literal and figurative. And itโs only gotten worse. It started when I played for Providence, but that schedule is nothing compared to this one.โ I motion vaguely at our surroundings. I canโt even remember the name of this hotel. Hell, some nights I donโt remember what city weโre in.
The life of a professional hockey player isnโt all glitz and glamour. Itโs a lot of traveling. A lot of time spent on planes. A lot of empty hotel rooms. And, fine, maybe this is sort of like somebody crying about how their diamond shoes are too tight. Boo-fucking-hoo, right? But great money aside, this life does take a toll, physically and mentally. And, as it turns out, emotionally.
โYeah, itโs not an easy adjustment,โ Garrett admits.
โDid you and Wellsy have any problems when you first joined the league?โ
โOf course. Being on the road all the time puts a strain on a relationship.โ
My index finger traces the label of my beer. โHow do you
unstrain it?โ
He shrugs. โI canโt give you an exact answer. My only advice? Spend time together as often as you can. Go on as many adventures as youโโ
โAdventures?โ
โYes. I mean, Wellsy and I barely left the house for the first few months. Weโd be so tired and just sit around and watch Netflix like a pair of zombies. It wasnโt good for us, and I donโt think itโs good for any relationship, to be honest. We were cooped up at home. Sheโd be strumming her guitar and Iโd be dead on the couch, and yeah, sometimes itโs nice just knowing that sheโs there, sharing the same space as you.โ
I know exactly what he means. If Iโm watching TV, and Grace is studying at our dining room table, I often look her way and smile at the little crease of concentration in her forehead. Sometimes Iโm tempted to go over there and kiss that tiny groove, smooth it out with my lips. But I leave her to her work, smiling to myself and simply enjoying the fact that sheโs near me.
โBut other times you feel so apart, even though youโre together,โ Garrett continues. He takes another sip of beer. โThatโs when you need to inject some excitement into the relationship. Go for a walk. Explore a new neighborhood, try a new restaurant. Just keep making memories and sharing experiences. Good or bad, they bring you closer together.โ
โWe do adventurous things,โ I protest. โLike what?โ
I wink. โRoleplaying, for one.โ
โNice. But Iโm not talking about sex. Sex doesnโt hurt, obviously, butโฆitโs a matter of making her a priority. Showing her that hockey isnโt your entire world, even when
it feels like it is. And if all else fails, a week in the Caribbean does wonders.โ
โDude, when do we have time for that? We barely have a night or two off, let alone a week.โ
โYou can make do. Weโve got two nights off next week for New Yearโs Eve,โ he reminds me. โThereโre lots of places to go close to home.โ
โReally. In New England. In the winter.โ
โDude,โ he mimics. โOpen up Airbnb. Youโll find tons of little ski lodges and hotels, all within a few hoursโ drive.โ
โTrue.โ And Grace does like to skiโฆ
I think it over. We have that break coming up, followed by another long stretch of away games. I definitely wantโ no, need to spend some quality time with my girl before the next road trip. Iโm afraid if I donโt, the distance between us will only continue to grow. Until eventually itโll be too far to bridge.
Iโm still stressing about it when we part ways upstairs a half hour later. Luckily, Iโve crashed from the high of the game and now Iโm exhausted, so I know Iโll pass out the second my head touches the pillow. We have an early flight to Phoenix tomorrow.
โSee you tomorrow,โ Garrett says before disappearing around the corner. The entire team has rooms on the same floor, but Gโs is on the other side of the elevator bank from mine.
โLater, bro.โ
I slide my keycard out of my back pocket and pass it over the door handle, which releases with a click. My first sense that somethingโs wrong? Walking into darkness. I clearly remember leaving the lights on when I went to meet Garrett. Now, shadows engulf me, raising the little hairs at the back of my neck.
The next warning bell is the soft rustling sound on the bed.
Wait. Am I in the wrong room? But no, thatโs impossible.
I used my own keycard to get inโ
โCโmon, superstar. Donโt keep me waiting all night,โ coos a throaty female voice.
I almost jump out of my skin. What in the actual fuck?
A hit of adrenaline surges in my veins as I slap the wall to flick the switch. A burst of light fills the room, clearly illuminating the naked woman sprawled on my king-sized bed like sheโs posing for a pinup calendar. Sheโs got one arm crooked behind her head, dark hair cascading over her shoulder and fanned across my pillow. Tits and legs and the curve of an ass assault my vision before I force my gaze to her face. I recognize it instantly.
Itโs the chick from the lobby.
โWhat the hell!โ I growl. โHow did you get in here?โ
My midnight intruder is completely unbothered by the anger coloring my tone. โI have my ways,โ she says coyly.
I canโt even believe this shit is happening right now.
I rub my suddenly pounding temples. โOkay. Look. I donโt know you, lady. Whatever you thought you were gonna get out of this, it ainโt happening. Itโs time for you to go.โ
Her lips curl into an exaggerated pout. โYou canโt be serious,โ she whines. โIโm your biggest fan. I just want to show you my appreciation.โ
โIโll pass, thanks.โ I cross my arms. โYou gonna leave on your own or do I need to call security?โ
A smug glint flashes in her eyes. โI donโt think leaving your bed is an option, honey.โ
To my sheer disbelief, she lifts her head slightly to show me the arm sheโd been leaning against. Or rather, the wrist thatโs handcuffed to the bedpost.
Youโve got to be kidding me.
Mustering up my last ounce of patience, I ask, โWhereโs the key?โ
Her eyes flick down her body, and the dirty smile she gives me tells me everything I need to know.
No. Nope. Not dealing with this tonight.
Without a word, I stride across the room to the chaise where I left my coat, then grab my duffel from the floor.
โWhere are you going?โ the shocked puck bunny screeches.
โAway,โ I answer tersely. I march toward the door, adding over my shoulder, โDonโt worry, Iโll let the front desk know youโre here.โ
The last thing I hear before the door swings shut behind me is, โYou come back here, John Logan!โ
Un-fucking-real.
Out in the corridor, I release a string of expletives under my breath, then, bypassing the elevators, stomp toward Garrettโs room. Iโm way too tired for this crap. The thought of going back downstairs and having to explain the situation to the front desk, then ask to see the manager, arrange for a new room, risk them calling Coach or someone at the franchise for a signature or some shit. Forget it. Too much effort, and itโll cost me a solid hour of sleep.
โAre you stalking me?โ Garrett grumbles as he opens the door to find me there. Heโs shirtless, barefoot, and wearing a pair of plaid pants.
โIโm bunking with you tonight,โ I mutter in lieu of explanation, then muscle my way into his room. I drop my stuff on a chair. โLet me just use the phone first.โ
โAre you serious right now?โ
I ignore his exclamation and reach for the phone, punching in the button for the front desk.
An overeager male voice slides into my ear. โWhat can we do for you, Mr. Graham?โ
โHi, this is actually John Logan, Garrettโs teammate. Iโm supposed to be in room fifty-two-twelve, but thereโs currently a naked woman handcuffed to my bedโโ
Garrett barks in surprise, then releases a howl of laughter that he mu๏ฌes with his forearm.
โSince the sole keycard is in my pocket,โ I continue in a tight voice, โthe only assumption I can make is that an employee gave her access to my room. Or she stole one, somehow. Either way, it doesnโt look good for you guys.โ
On the edge of the bed, Garrett is doubled over in laughter.
โOh boy,โ the hotel clerk blurts out. โI am so sorry about this, Mr. Logan. We will send security to your room immediately and get you back in there as soon asโโ
โItโs fine, Iโll be crashing here with Mr. Graham,โ I cut in. โBut yes, please send someone to my room. We have an early flight, so if security needs to talk to me about this, Iโll find them before we check out.โ
I hang up without another word, which I know is rude, but now Iโm tired and cranky, and I donโt want to talk anymore tonight. With anyone.
โYou got an extra blanket in there?โ I nod toward the closet as I kick off my shoes.
Garrett gets up to check. A moment later, he tosses me a duvet and a pillow, which I carry to the small couch under the window. My legs will be dangling off the side of that thing, but at this point, I donโt care. I just need to sleep.
โSwear to God, the puck bunnies in the pros are next level,โ I gripe.
โHey, itโs a rite of passage, dude. Youโre not a pro hockey player until a crazy naked girl breaks into your hotel room.โ A grinning Garrett watches me arrange my makeshift bed. โWelcome to the league.โ
