Page 12 of Mr. Broody

“You didn’t tell her?” Hannah scolds Chelsea.

“I didn’t know. Do you think I frequent The Nest? I didn’t know until Aubrie told me about her night and explained the bar they went to.”

In a split second, all three pairs of eyes are on me, filled with questions.

“Stop it, you guys.”

“The Nest.” Reed scoffs. “So stupid. I told him to move out of there a while ago.”

“It’s kind of cute,” Chelsea says, and Reed frowns at her for taking the opposing side. “Or not.” She shrugs, diverting her attention to an older woman walking into the room.

Hannah holds up her hand. “Okay, I’m sorry, someone explain this to me.”

I take the directive since I’m sure Reed won’t, and Chelsea got the information second-hand. “The Nest is what they call the building that Henry lives in with some of his teammates. There are three different condos above the bar, Peeper’s Alley. Henry lives in one. I’m not sure who named it The Nest, but last night there was a cardboard sign with it written on it on the security gate they use to access their condos, along with a bunch of little notes I suspect are from women leaving their phone numbers.”

“I don’t understand why these women are chasing these men around.”

“Well, they’re hockey players.” I chuckle.

Chelsea nods, agreeing with me.

“But to write your name on a piece of paper and not play hard to get? How do you expect the man to respect you?”

I laugh because Hannah is kind of old school, and I’d bet that Roarke, her longtime silver fox partner, pursued and won Hannah over, not the other way around.

“Pretty sure they’re not looking for respect. They just want to sleep with a professional athlete,” Chelsea says. “Think back to your youth, Hannah.”

“Even in my youth, I never chased a man.” She shakes her head.

“How do you know about The Nest?” Reed asks, just when I thought maybe he wasn’t listening anymore.

“You can’t look up anything about the Chicago Falcons without knowing about The Nest,” I say. “People post about how they left their number or wrote up the new sign after it had been torn down. I bet you can search for the hashtag The Nest, and you’ll see a bunch of selfies outside that black security gate.” It’s slightly embarrassing that I know so much about where Henry lives, but there are nights I’ve grown desperate to know what he’s doing right at that moment.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was like that,” Chelsea says. “Well, whoever Alvin is, he and Aubrie really hit it off.”

“Alvin?” Reed asks.

“One of the rookies,” I tell him.

“There’s no Alvin on the team.” A line forms between his eyebrows.

“It’s a nickname. Like Henry being called Daddy,” I explain.

He balks, turning to look at me. “They call Henry Daddy?”

“Daddy?” Hannah says with disgust. “Is that some dirty reference?”

“No.” I laugh, and Chelsea shakes her head.

“Why do they call him Daddy?” Reed asks, clearly still confused.

How have I been gone this long and still know more than him?

“Feel like you don’t know your firstborn, huh?” I use the joke we used to have back in the day.

Reed and Henry were much like father and son—he guided him, helped him, and I’m pretty sure paid for a lot of what allowed him to get where he is today. Hockey is not a cheap sport to participate in. Henry might never have made the league if Reed hadn’t ever come into his life. And I know Henry has always struggled with wanting to pay Reed back for it.

“I clearly need to go to more games.” He pulls out his phone, and I peek over to see if he’s texting Henry.

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