Dear Roomie

by Kate Meader

  Kennedy leaned down and petted him, revealing a whisper of lace of her underwear.

  Jesus. Maybe anywhere but here would be a good place to be.

  “You should bring the raspberry brownies. I made two batches and I’m going to bring the other one to Edie.”

  Another thing that bugged him—the constant baking.

  “The guys won’t thank you.”

  “I don’t need thanks.” She studied him closely. “So tell me your strategy.”

  “My strategy?”

  “You don’t seem to be too friendly with your teammates.”

  “I’m new.”

  “But you’re not making an effort either. Mia says you’re a dick, but a dick with purpose. So what’s the strategy?”

  What the hell was a dick with purpose? “It’s easier to keep my distance.”

  “Really? In a team sport?”

  “I’m in competition with most of the NHL, even the people on my own team. Take Foreman. He and I are both on the right-wing, so for each game, Coach has to choose one of us to play the first line or demote us to the next line. He’s been switching us off, but every minute I’m out there I have to prove that he made the right call. That his faith in me is justified. Only now I might be playing a different position.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Coach thinks I might work better as a center. On the same line as Foreman and Petrov. Mia’s brother.”

  “Ooh, the hot Russian. I’ve seen photos of him. All those tattoos. So playing together … you might complement them in some way. Be stronger together than apart.” Her grin was what was known as the shit-eating variety. She probably thought that was an epically profound thing to say.

  “We’re not required to all get along, kumbaya and all that hippie shit.”

  “Ha, I bet someone brings out a guitar tonight!”

  Mon Dieu, he hoped not. “It’s just playing cards or video games. Not a big deal.”

  She grinned and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’ve got to get ready for work myself. Have fun and don’t forget the brownies!”

  He didn’t watch her perfect sweetheart-shaped ass leave the room. He wasn’t that much of a sadist.

  “Captain Canuck!”

  Theo Kershaw stood at the open door to Foreman’s apartment, his gleaming eyes on the tray of brownies. Reid had also brought a six-pack. He might not drink during the season but it would be churlish not to bring beer to a gathering.

  Kershaw took the brownies. “Nice. Good to see you—hey, and the team mascot, too!” He reached down and rubbed Bucky’s head. “I was worried you were going to keep up this asshole act all season.”

  “Asshole act?”

  The defenseman grinned. “No one is that bad-tempered all the time. Unless you’re not getting laid. I went through a spell of that after I knocked up my girl and we were dancing around the sex thing and I was pretty hacked off for about six weeks until she realized she couldn’t resist me. Pregnant women are exceptionally horny, did you know that?”

  He did now.

  Kershaw talked a lot in the locker room, on the plane out, at the team lunches and dinners, on the plane back, on the bench, just … a lot. So Reid wasn’t really surprised to be confronted with the Michigan Motormouth in rare form on a night in with the boys.

  “So is that the case then?” Kershaw threw out over his shoulder as he walked ahead. “You’re not getting laid?”

  “It’s not responsible for my mood, but yeah, I don’t fuck anyone during the season.”

  The entire room went quiet.

  He had uttered that gem right as he walked into Foreman’s living room, filling a convenient lull in the conversation.

  “Durand,” Foreman said from a position in an armchair near the fireplace. “Nice entrance.”

  Bond, Jorgenson, Hunt, Burnett, and Kaminski made up the rest of the party. Bucky scurried into the center of the room.

  “He’s kind of shy,” Reid said about his dog, who proceeded to make a liar of him as he happily sniffed each of the players’ legs in turn. “Usually.”

  “You serious?” Theo asked, still hung up on Reid’s announcement. “You don’t have sex during the season? At all?”

  “I find it helps me to focus more.” If he had a penny for every time he said that …

  “On your balls of blue,” Jorgenson said, which made everyone laugh.

  Foreman stood and moved toward them, taking the beer from Reid’s hands. “This your contribution?”

  “Sure, for the crew. I’d like some water.”

  “You don’t drink either?” Kershaw was acting like an alien had crash-landed in the middle of Foreman’s living room.

  Foreman placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder and gave a gentle push. “Come on into the kitchen.”

  With a quick glance to check that Bucky was okay, Reid followed Foreman, who grabbed a glass, filled it from a Brita pitcher in the fridge, and handed it off.

  “How pissed are you that you’re here?”

  “I’m not pissed. I needed to get out of the house anyway.”

  Cue the Masshole smirk. “How’s the roommate situation?”

  “Fine. It’s—” Kumbay-fucking-nope. “It’s good to have someone there for Bucky.”

  “But for you, maybe not. With your no-sex-during-the-season rule.”

  “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Foreman put Reid’s six-pack into the fridge and withdrew a bottle of a different beer. “Seems sort of masochistic. Cute girl running around your apartment.”

  “Can only make me stronger.” Reid found himself smiling for the first time since this whole business had started. He was being ludicrous, acting as if the challenge of Kennedy in his living space was welcome. Would only benefit his regimen. Who was he kidding? Living with Kennedy was torture and he had only himself to blame.

  “Heard your brother’s on IR, so the clash of the century will be postponed until next time.”

  “Yeah, my father canceled his trip.” Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that. That was exactly the kind of thing Foreman would use.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “He likes to see us push each other.” Like a Roman emperor viewing the gladiators. It wasn’t as much fun with only one of them against strangers. “He doesn’t travel much anymore. It has to be worth his while.”

  Foreman sipped from his beer, remained silent. But he looked like he wanted to weigh in so Reid elected to do something he would normally not do: ask a question.

  “Have you met Henri?”

  “He did a brief coaching stint at the Royals.” The Royals was based in Montreal, Foreman’s previous outfit before he joined the Rebels. “Not a great one for positive encouragement, to be honest.”

  “He likes things a certain way so coaching within the regulations of the league was never going to work for him.”

  “Means he can devote all his time to you and your brother.” Foreman took another drag of his beer. “What does he think of you trying things out at center?”

  Reid hadn’t told him. It had only been a week since Coach Calhoun suggested it and they were still playing around with the idea in practice. Reid had felt good out there, like he had a renewed sense of purpose that didn’t have anything to do with what Henri wanted.

  When he didn’t comment, Foreman gave a slight eyebrow raise to indicate he understood. Mr. Sensitivity.

  “More pressure on you now that you’re in the same city as Durand Junior, I imagine.”

  “Not because of Henri.”

  “Oh, yeah, who needs a taskmaster like that when you’ve got yourself wielding the whip?”

  “Something wrong with pushing myself hard?”

  Foreman shook his head. “Nah, as long as you don’t overdo it. You have enough to contend with. Not sure adding an attractive woman you can’t bang to the mix is a good strategy.”

  “She’s not that attractive.”

  “Fuck yeah, she is.” Theo walked in, put the brownies
down on the counter, and started yanking open drawers. “We’re talking about Kennedy, I assume?”

  “No,” Reid said at the same time Cal said, “Yes.”

  Kershaw removed a steak knife from a block and eyed Reid. “So how does that work?”

  “How does what work?”

  “Are you turning the thermostat down?”

  Reid exchanged a puzzled glance with Foreman, who elected to take another sip of his beer and leave Reid to ponder the hard questions.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Kershaw?”

  “The best way to ensure you don’t have a half-dressed woman running around your living area, tempting you into a sexual frenzy, is to turn the thermostat down a couple of degrees, keep the place chilly, and then she has to layer up. Simple!” He snapped his fingers.

  Foreman gestured toward Kershaw with his beer bottle and spoke to Reid. “There’s a certain method to that madness.”

  Jorgenson came in. “What have I missed? Wait, there are brownies?”

  “We’re talking about Kennedy,” Theo said as he handed a square of Kennedy’s brownie to Erik. No plate or anything. Heathens. “Specifically about how to keep Reid out of her panties.”

  “Oh, good. That means you and she are not …” Erik trailed off as he stuffed his face with a big slab of brownie. Some of the crumbs fell to the floor, making Reid itchy.

  “Sounds like she’s a free agent, Jorgenson,” Tate Kaminski said, the latest entrant to this annoying conversation, “so go for it.”

  Erik nodded while he chewed. “That’s what I thought. I texted her this week to ask her about getting a goat.”

  “A goat?” Reid spluttered. Better that than do what he really wanted: punch Jorgenson in the throat. As for Kaminski with his free agent observation? Number two on Reid’s throat-punching list.

  “I figure she’d have some advice about animals. Women really dig baby goats—it’s big on social media—so I’m wondering if that would be better than a dog. Then I could get Kennedy in to look after it.”

  “She’s taken,” Reid bit out. When Cal gave him a weird look, he added, “She has a full-time job with my dog.”

  “She already texted back that she wasn’t sure a goat was a good idea because you can’t keep them in an apartment. But she said she’d meet me for coffee to talk about it. She wants to go to her old place of work with a hot hockey player to show them she’s doing just fine after they fired her.”

  “Good work, Jorgenson.” Kaminski offered the high-five, and Reid came this close to intercepting it. Not good work, Jorgenson. Bad work.

  That conversation with Kennedy a few days ago came to mind: he’d offered to, well, fuck her when the season was over and she said it probably wouldn’t work. Because she might have already slept with someone he knew. Like Bast. Or a Rebels teammate.

  And why wasn’t she asking Reid to hit the coffee shop for her show-and-tell? He went there every day!

  “Still doesn’t solve Durand’s problem,” Theo said. “He has a hot woman in his apartment exactly at the time he doesn’t need a hot woman in his apartment.”

  “I do need her.” Before he could get pissed at Foreman for another knowing look, he added, “for my dog. What I don’t need is to make my apartment into fucking Antarctica just so she can overdress and keep me from going into a blue ball toxic shock whenever she walks around the place she’s living in. We’ve already discussed it.”

  “So it is a problem!” Kershaw pointed dramatically and searched the faces of the rest of the crew for consensus.

  Jesus. There was a reason he didn’t do this buddy-buddy shit. All the conversations devolved into this nonsense. Yet at the same time, there was something comforting about knowing these guys understood what he was facing.

  “It’s … sort of a problem. But I’m working on making it not a problem.”

  “Twice a day in the shower,” Tate chimed in.

  Theo nodded. “Hell, when I was keeping little Theo on the down low after I knocked up Ellie it was more like three.”

  “Three times a day? And now? You’d better not be doing it at work, Kershaw,” Cal said. “I don’t need that kind of imagery when I come out of practice.”

  “Now I’m going to wonder what Theo’s up to if he takes too long in the hotel bathroom,” Erik said.

  “Moisturizing.” Theo raised his eyebrows comically. “That’s what I’m doing.”

  “How are you working on it not being a problem?” Cal asked Reid.

  “Not three times a day in the shower.” Which everyone found hilarious.

  Erik wiped his mouth. “These brownies are fucking amazing.”

  “My roommate made them.”

  Kaminski chuckled. “She bakes as well? Durand, you are fucked.”

  Burnett put his head around the door of the kitchen. “Hey, ya kickers, quit the jerk-off talk and come watch me beat Bond into submission in Battlefront 2.”

  “Heh, beat Bond into submission,” Theo said. “Good one, Alamo. Add that to the collection.”

  “Jerkin’ the gherkin,” Kaminski said.

  “Cruising for an oozing,” Theo offered.

  “Five knuckle shuffle.” Kaminski again.

  Reid caught Foreman’s eye, and it was all either of them could do not to laugh.

  “Painting the ceiling,” Jorgenson said as they headed into the living room, to which Theo went as wide-eyed as a child confronted with a giant ice cream cone.

  “Fish! Something you need to tell me about your super powerful joystick?”

  Foreman grinned. “Aren’t you glad you stopped by, Durand?”

  “Thrilled.”

  He was only half-lying.

  20

  Kennedy took a break from researching tattoo parlors for Edie—she would automatically find all of them wanting—and checked the flights to Bangkok for New Year’s Day. She had the money, she knew she wanted to be on the road soon, and Edie was very clear that Kennedy should not be putting her life on hold for an old lady.

  The last few years had kept her busy. If she couldn’t find work teaching yoga, it was relatively easy to pick up jobs for cash under the table, usually in the ex-pat communities of Europe and Asia. As lifestyles went, it wasn’t for everyone. She kept a bank account in the US, her passport up to date, but otherwise no roots, no reason to stay still. Her next gig would be a six-month stint teaching English, extendible for a year, as soon as the work visa was granted.

  Edie wanted to see her settled—with someone special—but it didn’t have to be near her. If Kennedy was going to stay put anywhere, it would be here because Edie was her touchstone. But Chicago was expensive and staying put for longer than a few months required she do more tending to her life. Get health insurance and a place to live and a Netflix subscription. Adulting.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  Bucky jumped to his feet and ran to it, his tail wagging. Usually that meant one thing: Daddy was home. But he couldn’t be. He would be gone for at least another day on an away game trip to New York.

  She shut the laptop and headed to the door. Bastian stood there with a Whole Food’s bag under his arm.

  “Hi ho, stranger! Figured I’d better knock seeing as you’re living here now.” He walked by her, put the bag on the kitchen counter, and leaned against it, so proud of his magic trick.

  “Reid’s not here.”

  “I know that.” He grinned. “I’m here to see you. The groceries are my toll.”

  “To see me? Why?”

  “You seem like a cool person and I like cool people.”

  She took a glance inside the shopping bag. “Fancy gelato? That’s not for your brother. He’d have a fit if he saw that in his freezer.”

  “He won’t see it if it’s all gone by the time he gets home.”

  “You are a devil in disguise—those are Reid’s words, not mine—but I’ll allow it.” She headed to the cupboard and brought out a couple of bowls.

  “So how’s living with
Brother Reid going?”

  “Not bad.”

  Bastian eyed her as she unlidded the tub of gelato. Salted caramel, some fancy brand.

  “It’s weird that he’d put himself through this. The temptation.” He waved his hands dramatically.

  “Don’t worry. He’s doing just fine resisting me.”

  “And how are you doing?”

  Laughing, she grabbed a couple of spoons and handed one off. “Your brother is hot and moody which is an irresistible combination to my inner teen. Not so attractive to the adult me.”

  Bastian raised the Durand eyebrow and added a smile, probably because she was obviously lying her well-toned ass off. She saw what Reid might be like if he went easier on himself.

  “Sure he’s moody, but he seems to be less so since you and Bucky moved in. It’s nice to have him around, too.”

  “So this is the first time you’ve lived in the same city in how long?”

  “Since Reid went to college. I was sixteen when he left. I thought about going to the same school but Dad figured it made more sense to keep our trajectories separate. That way we wouldn’t be compared as much until we both got drafted.”

  “I don’t know much about hockey but Reid said you’re incredibly talented. One of the best.”

  Bastian preened a little. “It’s always come easier for me. But Reid’s no slouch. He spent a couple of years in the AHL, which is like minors hockey and really had to prove himself to move up. He works harder than anyone in the league.”

  “I know. Turning into a dull boy.” Though that wasn’t true. No matter how much he refused to rise to her teasing, Reid could never be accused of dullness. “Your dad wanted to raise a couple of champions. He sounds tough.”

  “Yeah, he was pretty hard on Reid. I mean, he was tough on both of us but Reid got the worst of it.”

  She hated to pry but this seemed important. “Like violent?”

  “No, nothing like that. Listen, I’m just telling you this so you can be kind to him.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m not—hey, do you think I’m unkind?”