He rolls his eyes. “Jack, I’m not tooting my own horn when I say that you’re in the minority of men who wouldn’t give their left testicles to be my fake boyfriend. Not going to be a problem.”
Right. Hockey God, richer than God, has more disciples (fans) than God. And it does take a load off my conscience. Whether it’s real or not, he’ll be moving on.
I rub my bare arm, wishing I’d put my jacket on. It’s April, but it’s still chilly, especially at night. “We can’t be friends, Rhett. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t think Neo would go for it. I never would have, and you have to admit that we’re similar.”
“Yeah, it’s been said. I have a type.” But while they’re similar, they’re not the same. Not by a long shot.
“I’m going to miss you, sunshine, and I don’t think he’s good enough for you, but as long as you’re happy that’s what matters. And if he turns out to be a huge dick, I’m waiting in the wings for you.”
Awesome. Merc’s worst fear about Rhett is true. Well, I’m not gonna be in the wings.
“I’ll miss you too, Rhett, and I’m glad you told me in person.” He’s not fully himself, but he’s much better than that awful night. He’s gonna be okay and I needed to see it.
“I’ll be fine, Jack. Don’t worry about me and knock ‘em dead in those last two games. Show every one of those jackasses that let my dad buy them off what they’re missing.”
* * *
Mercy’s six am critiques kick our asses into gear enough that we win game six in Boston. By a hair, but a win is a fucking win. We’ve got our last game on home ice and then either way it’s over for the season. We’re all beat to death, our sanity hanging by a thread, but we want that cup so damn bad our sanity can go fuck itself.
There hasn’t been time to talk to Merc between flying back and forth and getting as much sleep as I can and all around staying in peak condition for the game. Superstitions are running rampant through the team and we’re hard-pressed to stray from any routine we’ve maintained in the last forty-eight hours in case it was the thing that led to our victory over Boston. If we fucking trimmed our nails before last game, we trim them this time too because no one wants to be stuck saying, “If I’d only trimmed my nails again, we’d be drinking beer from the Calder Cup right now.”
Even if there was time, I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to Merc anyway. Nothing’s resolved. I don’t know what I’m going to do about my hockey career and while I feel better about the Rhett thing, there’s no guarantee that I won’t think about him from time to time and wonder if he’s finally found happiness. Things have been so outta hand with Rhett that he’s always gonna be a sore spot for Mercy unless Mercy can find a way to move passed it.
I’m whisking myself a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon with a running commentary from Merc in my head about my lack of cooking skills. He always fondly teased me about that, and I wasn’t offended. I know he likes cooking for me anyway and that’s what I would prefer.
There’s a knock on the door. “Can someone get that?” I holler without much hope. I know Stacey and Dash went in the shower together to “save water” and Casey and Dirk are still snoozing. When the knock comes again, I turn off the stove and answer it myself. I guess it could be anyone from the team, but fucking text, eh?
My sleepy brain remembers just as I’m turning the knob that my “old” boyfriend sometimes comes to call without texting. Is it him? My heart picks up the pace and my tummy swoops. Fuck, okay. I haven’t lost a single bit of magic for him this week even if I can’t see the magic being returned to me. Even if it’s a little harder to find muddled up in hurt feelings and the utter exhaustion of playoff hockey.
Swinging the door open, the sun from the window shines on Bea. There’s also a woman I haven’t met yet that I assume is Trish, and Lorelei. What the…? Lorelei’s in a dress and drowning in what she told me is her favorite wool cardigan because it’s pink. She’s hugging the rabbit doll I gave her.
“Hey Jack,” Bea says quietly, setting Lorelei down. “I don’t have a lot of time. I mean, Merc’ll find out we’ve been here at some point and that’s fine, but hopefully at a much later point.”
“Bea. Hi. Good to see you.” My words are stilted because while I’m happy to see them, there’s a lot of “what the fuck” going through my head.
“Jack!” Lorelei says. “We came to watch you and everyone dominate hockey.”
I laugh. “Who taught you that?”
“Dawse and Rach,” she says. ‘Course they did. “And Dawse says Merc’s leading you all, which means you’ll win.”
My heart pangs, thinking of Merc. “I sure hope so.” I crouch down to her height. “That why you’re here, darlin’? Come to wish me luck?”
“I don’t know. Is that why we’re here, Bea?”
“Something like that,” Bea says. “I came to talk to you.”
“Sounds ominous.” I scoop Lorelei up and step back. “C’mon in. I just made coffee.” Just as I’m done getting them set up with coffee and some organic low-sugar cookies we had rolling around in the cupboard, there’s another knock at the door.
I freeze because what if it’s Merc coming to fetch his siblings? Chances are he won’t be happy they’re here. Neither seems worried so I answer the door only to admit more Meyers; Ari, Cody, and Theo.
“Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack!” Theo shouts tumbling out of Ari’s arms for me until I catch him. He licks my face immediately.
“Theo, ew!” Ari scolds.
“He’s ours, Ari.”
