I can make it.
Hollis
Same. But mostly because I want to see what her brothers are like.
Roman
^^^ And also because Peggy is with the girls.
I can come too.
Flip
I love escape rooms.
Tristan
Bea is out so I’m in, too.
Dallas
You’re the best.
We finish lunch and drive to the escape room.
“Sam is a diehard Roman Hammerstein fan,” Isaac shares as we pile out of the SUV.
“Shut the fuck up, Isaac.” I’m pretty sure Sam is blushing, which is…entertaining.
“He’s an awesome player and a great goalie,” I agree. “The team will be sad to see him go at the end of next season.” He’s diplomatic, even keeled, and basically the team dad.
“He’s had an amazing career,” Sam notes. “There isn’t a better goalie in the league.”
We meet Flip, Tristan, Hollis, Roman, and Ash in front of the building. I stage a round of introductions, and Sam gets all pumped up. Dude is intense to begin with, but he seems to know all of Roman’s stats and his entire career history. I’m just happy to have the attention off of me for a couple hours.
“Are you limping?” Ash asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Liar. These two seem like a lot to handle.”
I hold two fingers a hairbreadth apart.
“Sort of explains why Hemi is the way she is,” he muses.
“Willy’s perfect,” I snap.
He pats me on the back. “Agreed. I’m just saying, if this is how her brothers are all the time, it gives a little perspective as to why she’s such a boss queen, that’s all. Sort of like how Shilps is the youngest of five and had to fight for her place.”
“Yeah. That makes sense. They’re awesome women.”
We split up into two teams, me with Isaac, Ash, and Flip. Roman, Hollis, Sam, and Tristan form the other team. I’m grateful that it only takes Isaac half an hour to figure it out, with the help of mostly Ash and minor input from me and Flip. Samdoesn’t seem nearly as bothered by the loss as I’d anticipated, but then, he’s practically glued himself to Roman’s side.
Afterward, we head to the Watering Hole for beers and dinner. This day feels like the longest of my life. And possibly one of the most painful.
It isn’t until I’m lying on my couch—freshly showered with baby powder on my poor chafed balls, wishing for a new set of legs—that my phone buzzes with a message.
I swallow the lump in my throat as Willy’s name flashes across the screen. I open the message with a stomach full of rocks. At least until I read the content.