Good. While Max was doing that, Grady would take the time to scope out Max’s taste in real estate.
Max’s place in Jersey had been nice enough, but Grady knew better than to judge a guy by where he lived during the season.Thiswas Max’s real place, the place he spent his time off, the place he’d keep no matter which team he played for.
It wasn’t what Grady would’ve expected a year ago, but it fit what he knew about Max now—a solid blue two-story, sort of a classic design, with a big garage and a circular driveway with plenty of parking, which he presumably needed because half of New Brunswick was coming to his Cup party.
Max let Gru out to run around, and Grady grabbed their carry-ons to bring them inside. Everything else could wait; it wasn’t like they were in danger of having the car broken into. He couldn’t even see the road through the trees, never mind other houses.
“Key’s in the planter,” Max called as Gru disappeared around the side of the house. “I gotta watch the pup, the tide’s going out.”
Grady didn’t realize the significance of that until he found the master bedroom, upstairs from the airy open-concept main floor, and its panoramic view out toward the backyard—a cleared, sloping green space bordered by trees and, beyond them, the water.
That couldn’t be the ocean, because Grady could see across it to the other side. So the Bay of Fundy, then, or one of its… what were they called? Tributaries? It wasn’t a sandy beach but a large rock-slab shore, and Gru was running along the tree line, wagging his butt as Max tossed a stick, never into the water but toward the trees. Grady was sure he couldn’tactuallysee the tide receding, but he imagined he could. It made sense that Max wouldn’t want Gru in the water right now.
With the two of them busy, Grady took the opportunity to snoop through the house a bit. The master bathroom had a soaker tub and an invitingly large shower. Grady stuck his head in, spied Max’s old bargain-brand shampoo/bodywash/floor cleaner, and promptly chucked it in the trash. Then he opened his travel kit and put their actual decent products where they could be used.
He didn’t realize until he was done what it would feel like—like he was claiming astheirsthis place that had been Max’s. There was no one around to know, so he allowed himself a moment of sentimentality before he finished unpacking.
Max and Gru were still down by the shore, and the water level wasdefinitelylower now. It wasn’t Grady’s imagination. This far away, they looked tiny. Max had a lot of property. No wonder he needed a dog, Grady thought; it would get lonely in a place this big by yourself.
The upstairs featured an interior balcony overlooking the living room and its two-story stone fireplace. There was a well-equipped kitchen in a surprisingly traditional style. And the garage housed an older pickup, a ride-on mower, and a tractor with an attachment for plowing snow.
There was also a big blue recycling bin complete with pictograms that depicted what should go into it. After a moment’s study, Grady went back up to the bathroom to retrieve the shampoo bottle, completely sold on the place. Well, not the grass. Maybe he could convince Max to go for a more eco-friendly ground cover. Probably the grass had to be cut because of ticks or something, but they didn’thaveto keep the grass. This place definitely didn’t have an HOA.
He wandered around to the backyard, intending to join Max and Gru by the water. But he didn’t even get to the tree line, because as soon as he rounded the side of the house, he caught his foot on the edge of a raised garden bed.
Grady didn’t fall—even with only the trees as witnesses, tripping on a stationary object was embarrassing for a professional athlete—but he did find himself brought up short. Max didn’t garden, which had been part of the thought behind the indoor herb-growing kit Grady bought him at Christmas. He liked cooking with fresh herbs but didn’t care to grow them, and the kit made it easy.
This was far more than an herb garden. It was laid out in long, careful rows: tomatoes and cucumbers and green beans and kale, summer squash, even a few blueberry bushes. All of the plants still bore the little tags from the nursery. A bag of compost sat in a wheelbarrow to the left of the garden, a trowel sticking out the top.
Like someone only just had time to finish planting before Max and Grady showed up.
Grady blinked hard.
Max was totally going to cave about the grass. He wouldn’t even put up a fight. But Grady could wait a couple days to bring it up.
But he couldn’t still be having feelings about this when he got down to the water, so he pulled out his phone and texted Jess, hoping to exorcise his emotions.
I’m in love with Max’s house.
There. That was notexactlycorrect, but it was close. Close-ish.
You’re in love with Max’s toenail fungus, Jess replied a moment later, which had the desired effect of knocking Grady out of his sappy mood. Blech.
He shoved his phone in his pocket and turned toward the trees. Now that he was paying attention, he could make out the lap of the water on the rocks. They should open the windows, let some of that sea air in.
Grady was going to sleep like a log.
He picked his way carefully toward the water—the ground was damp and spongy in places and slick rock in others, and the roots of the evergreens popped through often enough to make the path hazardous. But he couldn’t get over how the air smelled, piney and earthy and salty all at once.
In fifty years, when people started buying air the way they bought bottled water, this would be the most popular flavor.
When he emerged from the trees, he found Max and Gru sitting at the top of the rock slope, shoulder to shoulder. Max was petting Gru absently, but otherwise he didn’t seem particularly aware of his surroundings. Maybe he was just soaking it in.
Grady sat down too, then leaned over a little until the side of his head touched Max’s. “I like your house.”
Max smiled. “Me too.”
After a moment Grady added, “Not much of a view, though.”
