Page 11 of Goaltender Interference

Me too, Jesse thought a little wildly.While I was in bed with your brother.

But he had no idea if Connor was out to his family—and, in fact, was sure even Connor didn’t know what the fuck his sexuality was—so he kept his mouth shut. Sure, Connor had been a dick to him earlier, but Jesse didn’t think that was any excuse for outing him.

“Thanks. Mind if I sit?”

Pat shrugged. “Up to you, honestly. This bunch gets loud and I don’t know how bad your hangover is.”

Jesse laughed, taking a seat at the empty chair across the table from him. There were a bunch of kids at the table, and one boy looked up, grinning around a mouthful of strawberry waffles that made him look like a hockey player who’d taken a puck to the teeth.

“I’ll survive,” Jesse said, digging into a forkful of scrambled eggs. “And I like kids.”

“We’ll see if you’re still saying that by the end of brunch.” Pat sounded skeptical.

“Hey!” a girl with glasses said hotly. “That was mean.”

“Sorry, Peanut.” He reached out and tugged her dark hair affectionately. “But the whole lot of you areloud.”

Okay, so Pat seemed cool. He wasn’t bad looking either, with wide shoulders and brighter red hair than Connor’s.

Jesse snuck a glance around the room, wondering where the hell Connor was.

“So,” Aubrey said. “Are you excited about coming to Boston?”

“Uhh.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Um, honestly, I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet.”

“Understandable. We’ve been lucky that we’ve been able to stay in Boston for Pat’s whole career.”

That was the crazy thing. Other than the youngest O’Shea brother, Kelly, all of them had played for Boston for theirentirecareers. From Declan—the patriarch of the family—to Finn, Pat,and Connor, they were all Harriers for life. That was some legendary shit.

“You’ll love it,” Pat said. “Great organization, great city, and much less media attention … which might be ofparticularinterest to you.” He winked.

“Yeah, I definitely pis—uh, annoyed—a few people lately,” Jesse admitted with a grin, belatedly realizing there were kids everywhere and he should watch what he said.

“I bet you did.” Pat chuckled. “And don’t worry about the language. Ma gave up on that years ago. We’re Boston Irish hockey players who’ve never met a swear word we don’t like. We just teach the kids where and when they should use it. Like, not at school or at church.”

“Makes sense.” Jesse reached for his water. “So, what’s Boston’s GM like?”

“Gavin Racine’s a good guy,” Pat said. “I was leaving the team as he was coming in so I wasn’t around him for long, but he’s been great. LGBTQ friendly, so nothing to worry about there for you.”

“And the coach?”

“Ahh, you’ll like Hoyt Kent. Tough but fair, with far fewer theatrics than Gilly.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t take much.” His current—former?—coach certainly lived up to his reputation. The dude was a lunatic. Some players didn’t mind him, but Jesse found him obnoxious.

Jesse bit off a big hunk of pastry and chewed, starting to feel a little more optimistic about the trade. At least he’d have a better head coach this coming season.

A beautiful older woman glided up to the table, smiling warmly at everyone.

“Hi, Grandma!” the little girl with the glasses said, beaming. She was maybe six or seven and had been shooting Jesse curious glances since he sat at the table.

“Hey there, Evie.” She pressed a kiss to the girl’s dark head, then straightened, tucking her own strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. “How’s breakfast?”

“Yummy! I had three banana walnut pancakes.”

“I had two and you’re right, they weredelicious.”

She greeted everyone, stopping when she got to Jesse. The woman hardly looked old enough to be anyone’s grandma.Damn.

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