by Kate Meader
“I’ll think about it.”
Laughing as one, they left the restroom and Jordan reeling with all this new information. As if the trade rumor and Levi on tap for the captaincy wasn’t enough, that Stroger bombshell had rocked her. Her heart ached for Harper and the trauma she’d endured at the hands of that asshole. To look at the powerful CEO, no one would have ever guessed that she was a survivor of domestic abuse. But then everyone had secrets.
How had the Rebels managed to keep this one? And how could Jordan thread this into her smash-the-NHL-patriarchy story without betraying Harper’s trust?
18
LEVI STACKED the plates on the crockery shelving unit and wiped his brow. He smiled at Lucy. “A lot of happy campers out there.”
“I’ll say. Thanksgiving is always a tough day, so anything we can do to make that easier.” She pushed a plate of pumpkin pie toward him. “This is pretty good.”
It should be. Levi had done a pie run around every grocery store on the North side after the donation the Mission had expected fell through. Those pies were gathered with grit and love.
He took a bite, figuring one morsel was enough. Another pie sat in his fridge at home awaiting Jordan’s return. She was flying home from DC tomorrow and he missed her like fucking crazy.
“Where you headed this evening?” Lucy asked, mischief in her eyes.
“I have offers.”
“Plural? Nice!”
“Quiet, you.” Elle had headed to Florida to visit her family. Most of the team were off home, and anyone Chicago-based was at a big party at Chase Manor. He’d received an invite but was weighing his options.
“Got a big game this weekend, Mr. Hockey?”
He blew out a breath, not completely surprised that his cover was blown since Jordan had shown up a couple of weeks ago. “How long have you known?”
“Long enough. Don’t worry, I haven’t spilled the beans about our celebrity short cook.”
He gave a grateful smile. “Just prefer to keep it private. I’ve been getting a lot of attention lately and too much information gives people another way to label you. Neither do I want this to come off as performative.”
Lucy nodded in understanding. “Better to keep the worlds separate?”
“Yeah. This is personal for me, and I’m already too exposed in my day-to-day.” Lately, his nights, too, which required him to endure Jordan’s probing. The price of keeping her close and in his bed.
“I’m not going to blab.”
“Thanks, boss. Now, I expect your family’s waiting,” he said. “You should get out of here.”
“Plenty of turkey at mine if you’re at a loose end.”
“I’ll be okay.” Levi had somewhere to be.
* * *
THE TENTS HAD BEEN MOVED to the west side of the Wilson Avenue viaduct after the city said they wanted to build bike paths. Flaunting his nice SUV was probably not the best way to make friends, so Levi parked a couple of blocks away on Broadway and walked down. The wind sliced through his jacket, an icy stab he felt in his marrow, and guilt gnawed at him that this was the first time he’d come down here. In truth, he’d been avoiding it. Worried that it would spark memories he’d prefer stayed buried.
He pulled his baseball cap down when he passed by the first tent. Most of them were zipped up, but a small gathering up ahead gave him hope that he’d find the man he was looking for: Joe.
He hadn’t stopped into the mission for dinner. Hadn’t been there in a couple of weeks according to Lucy, and that had Levi worried. After kicking an empty water bottle to announce his presence, Levi strode with purpose toward the group. No need for anyone to feel ambushed. A couple of people turned, one of them Joe.
But Levi’s gaze slid right by him to the woman standing beside him, her fiery red curls tumbling from her baseball cap. A Rebels one, which added insult to injury.
Irritation dueled with protectiveness in his chest. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in DC.”
“Levi!” Jordan grinned at him. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Hey, Levi,” Joe said. A scrappy piebald Jack Russell terrier on a leash jumped up on Levi’s legs.
“Hey, Joe. Hey, fella.” He caught Joe’s eye. “You own this little guy?”
“He owns me.” He pulled on the leash. “Cookie, don’t be gettin’ Levi’s jeans muddy.”
Levi shot a look at Jordan, just in time to catch the shock on her face. Cookie. What were the odds?
“That’s okay.” Levi hunkered down to rub behind his ears, which right now was about the only thing stopping him from going ballistic on Jordan. He flicked a glance up to find her watching him, her shock dissipated, now assessing his reaction. “So, Joe, haven’t seen you over at the mission for a while. Getting kind of worried.”
“Yeah, Cookie wasn’t feeling so good. There’s a place on the southside that looks after the homeless guys’ pets so I headed over that way for a few days.”
“You can keep the pets there overnight?”
“Yep.” Joe covered his mouth, the sound of a wicked cough breaking up his speech. “A vet over there gives them shots. Got him some pills and now he’s right as rain.”
The people who had been standing with Jordan and Joe moved off.
Levi pulled himself upright. “Explain.”
“You talking to me?” Jordan fanned a hand over her collarbone.
“You said you were in DC with your family.”
“I was. But I thought I’d head back early and come down to see Joe.”
Did she have no idea how dangerous it was down here? If anything had happened to her … One fire at a time. He’d deal with her later. “Joe, it’s going to be below freezing tonight. I can drop you off at the mission.”
“No can do. They won’t take Cookie.”
Pieces slotted into place. “That’s why you won’t stay there?”
Joe looked incredulous. “And leave Cookie on the streets? No way, man.”
“Most of the shelters won’t take animals,” Jordan cut in. “Liability reasons. Other guests being allergic. Health and safety. The ones that do fill up fast.”
Levi had only one choice here. “You can stay with me.”
Joe stared at him, as did Jordan. Levi didn’t blame them.
Joe shook his head like this was the worst idea and started coughing again. “That’s cool of you to offer, man, but no.”
“I can’t have you on the streets, Joe. Not in these temps and with that cough. At least …” Shit, what was the answer here? People got sick on the streets. People fucking died on them, a harsh reality Levi was all too aware of. His dad’s pneumonia had started with a cough like that.
Finally, he looked at Jordan, because as loath as he was to admit it, she seemed to have a better handle on the situation.
She searched his expression, wrinkled her brow, then turned to Joe and grasped his hand. “How about you stay at the mission tonight and Levi looks after Cookie? I know you don’t want to take a handout, but what about your buddy here? This way, you’re both out of harm’s way while we work on a more permanent solution.”
No way would Joe go for that. The whole point was that he didn’t want to be separated from his best friend.
“Okay,” Joe said because he was as ornery as fuck.
Ten minutes later, Levi had dropped Joe off at the shelter where he was soon sitting down to a hot turkey meal. Levi had also asked if they could get his cough checked out at the 24-hour clinic a couple of blocks away, and luckily they had a volunteer on hand for that.
With fury still blazing though his veins, he hopped into the driver seat of his SUV where he’d left Jordan with Cookie, who incidentally stunk to high heaven. Jordan had taken an Uber down to the viaduct and was car-free. So, another reason to be mad at her.
“You and I need to talk.”
“Sure, can you drop me at home while you ream me out?”
“What the hell were you thinking, Jordan? Tent City at night?
”
“It was perfectly safe.” She rubbed behind the dog’s ears. The stinky beast loved it. “This little guy had my back.”
Perfectly safe. So blasé about it, too. “And what were you doing there? Pumping Joe for information about me?”
“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen. I visited the shelter on a morning you weren’t there and found out where he was living. I just wanted a little background information to see if it was worth following up on for the profile.”
“I told you that’s off limits. How about you stay inside the lines?”
“I missed you,” she said, not looking at him, her attention still on the dog.
Oh, Christ. Just three little words, and he was putty. “Don’t try to get on my good side.”
“Well, if that won’t work, how about pie?” Cookie yelped. “Really good pie.” Another yelp.
She made it sound like something else, something illicit and sexy and gooey. And Lord help him, he wanted in—her pie, her body, her life.
But he had responsibilities and he was still mad at her. “I have to take this guy home and give him a bath.”
“Got any dog food?”
“Not on me, no.”
She smiled and he was lost. “My place is closer and my neighbor has a dog so we can borrow some food. And eat some pie.”
Cookie barked at the third mention of pie. This dog was onto something.
“Fine. A bath and P-I-E. That’s it.”
* * *
JORDAN HAD JUMPED out of her Frye boots at the sight of Levi striding purposefully down the street under the viaduct, looking like he was on a mission. She had to admit feeling a little unnerved down there—sure Joe and his puppy were fine but it was still sixty-five shades of sketchy in that area. Seeing Levi had made her heart skitter with joy and her skin prickle with relief.
For the self-proclaimed “most boring guy in hockey” he sure excited the hell out of her.
However, right now, he was making her wet—from the dog bath, guttersnipes! Cookie was unimpressed with the rules of the house. He had already escaped the bath twice.
“Dog, you will not get pie or any food until you stop being so damn stinky.” Levi lifted Cookie into the bath for the third time and set him down. “Got any soap?”
“Bath gel?” Jordan grabbed the bottle from the caddy and dribbled some over Cookie’s fur.
Levi got busy scrubbing, his big hands gently yet firmly mapping the pup’s little body. Cookie’s eyes started to glaze over—Jordan knew that look—and he relaxed as any creature would do when under the care and ministrations of one Levi Hunt.
“Aw, he likes that. Good puppy.”
“He definitely smells better.”
“Sure does.” Jordan stroked his head. “His name, though.”
“I know,” Levi said. “Kind of looks like him, too. All excited and happy to get attention.”
Never a truer word. Josh always had a bounce to him, so animated and friendly.
Levi slid a glance at her. “How was your half-holiday? Parents good? Still setting you up with hotshot lawyers?”
“It was fine. Mom’s gone quiet about my dating which generally means she’s planning something.” All through lunch, Levi had been uppermost on Jordan’s mind along with a heavy dose of guilt that she was sleeping with him and hadn’t invited him to DC when she knew he’d be alone for the holiday. But that would have put what was happening firmly in dangerous meet-the-family territory.
They’d met him at two of the most important events of her life: the wedding that began one stage of her life and the funeral that ended it. He’d made an impression, that was for sure. Would they think it off she was “with” Josh’s friend? She suspected her dad would like him if given the chance because Levi was such a straight shooter.
Slow your roll, Jo-Jo. She refocused on the task at hand. “Did you have a dog when you were younger?”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t keep him.”
“Oh, how come?”
“We moved around a lot and it was tough to bring him with us.”
So far, she’d heard about Levi’s upbringing in patches. Unorthodox, he’d called it. There was the mom who jumped ship, the boxer father who died of pneumonia, the childhood he’d grown out of too quickly. He found hockey and it saved him, as sports saves a lot of kids.
There was something almost scripted about it. Not that she doubted it, but Levi had a way of doling out information stingily, all the better to keep those walls in place.
“We’ll need an old towel,” he said. “Something you don’t care about.”
“I’ll have you know I care about all my towels.” She grabbed a fluffy bath towel hanging on the rail. “This little guy could do with some luxury.”
She put it down on the mat while Levi maneuvered Cookie out of the bath and onto the floor, then scrubbed him dry.
“Look at him! This face is getting pie tonight.” Cookie yelped in joy.
Levi frowned, and wouldn’t you know it Jordan loved that, too? “I know we promised P-I-E but it’s probably not good for him.”
“I’ll check with my neighbor. See if he has a couple of tins of the gourmet crap to spare.”
Two minutes later, Jordan was back with something meaty and fancy for Cookie, gifted by Seth, her next-door neighbor and owner of an Irish setter as big as this building. Seth had said “no sugar, you monster!” and gave her a bag of doggie treats, which Jordan would call pie from this moment forward.
She grabbed a bowl and no sooner had it hit the floor of her kitchen than Cookie was in nose-deep, chowing down. She turned to find a shirtless Levi leaning against the counter, wiping himself dry, so casually delicious.
“So, why do you think Joe wouldn’t take you up on your offer to stay at your place?” She couldn’t believe Levi had done that, but then he continually surprised her.
“Because he’s proud and accepting that kind of help is a bridge too far.”
“Even though he’d be safer with you than at a shelter?”
“He’s got his coping mechanisms. I’m not going to mess with that. I’ll bring Cookie back to him tomorrow, though he might not even recognize him he’s so clean.”
“You care about him. About Joe.”
Levi shrugged one broad shoulder. “He’s a vet, had a rough time of it. I’ve been there.”
“As a vet?”
“That and … you’ve never gone hungry, have you?”
“Are you calling me fat?”
He smiled. “I’m saying that you grew up in an upper-middle-class family where there was never any question about where your next meal was coming from. The fridge was full, the hearth was warm, the sheets were clean.”
Jesus, Jordan, those are some reporter instincts you’ve got. “Are you saying you’ve experienced some of what the homeless have experienced?”
His eyes met hers, deep, blue, troubled. He didn’t want to share, but part of him—she could tell—needed to put it out there.
She maintained eye contact, letting him know that she might be tasked with unmasking his deepest secrets but this one was safe with her.
He gusted out a breath. “My dad wasn’t the most stable guy. Mom had already left, done with his drinking. Done with … life, I suppose. And my father was making a living, if you could call it that, getting his head pounded in illegal boxing matches. He earned some extra cash mopping the gym and I’d help him out after school. But it was never enough. Wasn’t long before we were out of a place to live but Dad would sneak us into the gym at night and I slept in the locker room for a few months.”
“Oh, Levi, that’s awful.”
“Yeah, not great, but good practice for sleeping anywhere once I deployed. These beds in civilization?”
“For wimps, right?”
“Totally.” He kept his gaze trained on Cookie. “Sometimes Dad couldn’t get me into the gym and we’d find somewhere—an alley, bank lobby if we could sneak in late. Easier to do that back then. And when he go
t sick, it started like what I heard from Joe tonight. The cough of a three-pack-a-day seal, only my dad didn’t get help. He was a proud guy. That sound? It’s the sound of failure, of despair. The sound of death.”
Her heart melted. “That’s why you help at the shelter. You don’t want anyone to ever suffer like that.” The way his dad had. The way fifteen-year-old Levi had.
“We live in this world where one person is paid millions because he does one thing well, yet we can’t feed kids or look after our vets or put roofs over everyone’s heads. People will pay two hundred bucks to watch a hockey game, will read about the diet of a guy who bashes a puck around for a few minutes a night, but they’re fine with their fellow citizens dropping dead around them. Priorities are so fucked up.”
He was talking about his talent, his priorities.
“You can’t save everyone, Levi. You’ve been blessed with a skill that people are willing to pay for, and you have the ability to pay it forward. Yeah, it’s messed up, but at least you’re using it to honor your father and help others.”
He blew out an annoyed breath. “Yeah, maybe. And I’d rather do it without a whole lot of attention. Which means a nosy, smart-ass reporter I know should not be trying to turn this into feel-good, human interest shit and relating it back to my hardscrabble upbringing. Don’t need to share that, okay? And I especially don’t need to use a guy who’s down on his luck as a way to make me look like a hero. I’m not. I’m fucking blessed.”
She threw her hands in the air. Just when she thought she had a vein she could mine, he detonated the TNT at the cave’s entrance. “You’re officially the worst story subject ever.”
That earned her a smile. “I did tell you.”
“You told me you were dull and uninteresting, but nothing could be further from the truth.” Moving in, she curled a finger in the belt loop of his jeans and rubbed his chest. So many people these days wanted play at virtue-signaling, to brag about their good deeds, yet here was a man who walked the talk and zipped his lips. “I think you really are a superhero disguised as a mild-mannered hockey player.”
