Page 4 of Shift Change

Harpy took off his jersey and grinned. “He’s a damn good linemate.”

“Fuck yeah,” Richie called from across the room. “It was like we’ve been playing together for a long time.”

“Coach is keeping him with Richie and me Saturday night,” Harpy added.

I froze, halfway through wrapping a towel around my waist. “You’re shitting me. Mad Dog will be playing on the first line in his NHL debut?”

“He might score,” Gabe said. “Koskinen better be ready.” Koskinen was Chicago’s starting goalie.

“Ready for what?” Mad Dog strolled up. He sat—his stall was between mine and Harpy’s—and started taking off his gear. “Are we giving Koski a special welcome or something?”

Gabe ruffled his hair like he was a kid brother. “Hell yes, we are.You.”

Mad Dog blinked up at him. “Is there something I should know about Chicago?”

Packy grinned. “Only that they’re number one in their division and a shoo-in for the playoffs.”

“I think you’ll ring Koski’s bell,” Gabe said. “You’ve got that twitchy energy goalies hate, lurking off to the side and making us use our peripheral vision. Makes us nervous as hell. I didn’t even see your shot coming till it was too late. Koski’s weak on side-angle shots, so if you time it right, he’s toast.”

“Hell yes.” Harpy stood and grabbed a towel. “Richie and I will feed you the puck every chance we get.”

Richie, passing by on his way to the shower, pointed at Mad Dog. “Goddamn right. We’ll get your first big-league goal on Saturday.”

Mad Dog’s cocky grin wavered. He stood, took a towel, and exhaled a long breath. “I don’t know, guys. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s good enough,” Harpy said. “On a different note, Criswell’s canceled practice tomorrow to keep us fresh, so I’m throwing you a welcome lunch.” He looked at me. “Mad Dog’s staying with you, right?”

I nodded, and Mad Dog shot me a panicked glance. Had no one told him?

“We’ll eat at AC’s,” Harpy said. “You’ll get him there? Twelve o’clock.”

“No problem,” I said. “We’ll be there.”

Mad Dog blew out his cheeks and turned to me. “Coach said I’m staying with you for a while. Did you know?”

I snorted. “You think he’d assign you to my house without asking? He’s powerful, but he wouldn’t go that far.”

Mad Dog grinned, and I gave him a once-over—brown hair long enough to fall into his eyes, a face teetering between heartbreaker and troublemaker, and built like someone with a personal vendetta against rest days.Note to self: ask about his workout routine.

A muscle jerked under one eye. “It’s okay with you, then?”

His hesitation threw me until I remembered my first days in the league. I’d been fresh out of UMass, equal parts excited and terrified. Something pulled inside my chest, and I let go of my smartass act. “It’s fine. I’ve been having a rough patch with the ladies, so I could use some chill company.”

“Thanks. I’ll try not to get in your way.”

“Fuck that. I said I need company. One condition, though.”

“What is it?” He looked a little worried.

“Mad Dog’s a fucking mouthful. Let me call you Dog, and we’re good.”

He snickered. “No worries. Dog it is.”

Harpy headed for the shower, and as Dog followed, I slung an arm around his shoulders. We were about the same height—six-two—so he fit well. When he flashed me a grin, I hoped we’d be friends.

Later, after we got dressed, a guy from the front office came in to grab him for paperwork. Before they left, Dog turned back. “When should I move in? I don’t have much, just clothes and a few things.”

He still looked a little wary, and I wanted that gone. No one needed a housemate who acted like you might bite. “Where’s your stuff?”

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