Page 12 of On Thin Ice

I raised my hand in a casual wave, and he scowled.

Yeah, that tracked.

He closed the distance with purposeful strides, his dark blue hoodie hugging his muscular frame. His hockey bag was slung over his broad shoulder, strands of wavy dark hair falling over his forehead. He looked unfairly good. Rugged. Handsome.

He also looked grumpy as fuck. Like the kind of guy who’d rather eat glass than smile for a photo.

When he reached his SUV, he popped the hatch and dumped his bag inside before coming back around, stopping at my window.

I hit the button to lower it, resting my forearm along the edge of the door. “Hey, Dad.”

His nostrils flared. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Waiting for you.” I grinned. “Figured I should follow you home since, y’know, we’re roomies now.”

His jaw ticked. “Christ. They already told you.”

“Uh, yeah. Did theynottell you until just now?”

He scrubbed his palm down over his face, exhaling sharply. “They did not.”

I fought back a smirk at the way his fingers tightened around his keys. He looked like he wanted to drive me into the boards again—not that I’d necessarily mind.

Ethan huffed out a breath, then yanked open his door without another word.

“Sure, I’ll follow you. Thanks for suggesting it,” I said, grinning to myself as I swung a U-turn and pulled out of the lot behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, I was driving through a part of Austin I hadn’t explored yet. When I wasn’t holed up at the hotel, I’d been hitting up the bars and clubs in the Warehouse District. Probably didn’t want that getting back to Coach, though, given the “It’s time to buckle down and focus on hockey; no more fucking around” speech we’d been given a couple of days ago when one of the vets had shown up reeking of booze and perfume.

As I followed Ethan into a residential area of town, the cityscape faded into quiet, tree-lined streets. Bungalows with wide porches lined the blocks, several of them featuring large vegetable gardens and chicken coops in their front yards. People were out enjoying the evening despite the lingering heat—walking their dogs, rocking on porch swings, and nursing drinks under the glow of cafe lights.

I let out a small huff of surprise. I’d assumed he would live somewhere more sterile—a high-rise condo downtown or maybe a cookie-cutter McMansion out in the suburbs. Something boring to match his whole boring vibe.

I was in the middle of forming some smart-ass comment in my head that was bound to get under his skin, when Ethan’s turn signal flicked on and he pulled into the driveway of a house that was …

Definitely not what I pictured.

I slowed, my foot on the brake as I took in the deep blue bungalow with crisp white trim and a bright-ass yellow front door that looked like it had been ripped straight from my old roommate Kiki’s manifestation boards.

A narrow concrete path divided the front yard, which, unlike his neighbors’, was predominantly neatly trimmed grass but included some flower beds tucked along the foundation. A small “Protect Our National Parks” sign was staked among the greenery, and a short set of steps led up to a covered porch outfitted with a cozy wicker seating area.

It was cute. Way cuter than I would have expected from Mr. Serious over there.

I arched a brow, glancing at the houses on either side—one had a rainbow flag affixed to the garage, while the other had both “Black Lives Matter” and “Resist” flags hanging from the porch railing. A huge multi-colored Pride flag flew from a flagpole in the yard of the house across the street, and a painted butterfly mural stretched across the garage doors.

The whole street had an artsy, progressive vibe, which only made Ethan’s house stand out more. Not because it didn’t fit in—because italmostdid.

I killed the engine and climbed out of my car, stretching my arms overhead. A muscle in my abdomen twinged, and I winced. Fuck. Guess I needed some extra yoga stretches before bed tonight. I was too young to be feeling these sorts of aches and pains—then again, the NHL was no joke. Just pre-season, and my body was already feeling it.

I dropped my arms and rolled out my shoulders, shaking off the ache as I turned, only to find Ethan watching me from the other side of his SUV, arms crossed like he was bracing for whatever dumb shit I was about to say.

I grinned, nodding toward the house. “Gotta say, not what I expected.”

His expression didn’t budge. “What did you expect?”

I gestured vaguely. “I don’t know… something boring. White paint, zero personality. Maybe a sad little cactus in a pot if you really wanted to go wild.”

That earned me an eye roll as he sighed and made his way to the front door. “Just grab your shit.”

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