Page 105 of What if It's Us

As if it’s something they talk about on a daily basis, every one of the guys within earshot of Bodhi answers back, “We don’t talk about aisle three.”

Oh, good Lord.

“Why don’t you talk about aisle three?” I ask shamelessly.

Ledger turns and covers my mouth with his hand. “Shhh! It’s one of our hockey superstitions.”

“Expwain,” I say with muffled lips.

“I’ll do it!” Ella raises her hand, finally making her way into the bathroom to see what’s going on. “So, are you familiar with Colby Nelson from the Chicago Red Tails?”

I nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Well, he has this thing about eating a bowl of Lucky Charms right before every game. Kind of an homage to his brother.”

“Okay what does that have to do with hockey?”

“I guess several years ago he was in this losing slump because he was out of Lucky Charms and when he went to get more after the game that night, there was only one box left and this woman had just put it in her cart.”

“Right,” August nods. “And that woman is now his wife.”

“Wait, so you don’t talk about aisle three because some hockey player from another team eats Lucky Charms before every game? That makes absolutely no sense.”

Ella laughs. “No. The cereal aisle was aisle three. And it was an unlucky night for him. And once he told us the story of how he met Carissa because she was the woman with the last box of Lucky Charms and wouldn’t give it to him, we all decided we wouldn’t ever talk about the number three. Or aisle three or anything like that. It just became a thing. For Colby.”

“You guys and your superstitions.” I roll my eyes.

“Are you mocking our superstitions, Remington?” Barrett asks, his eyes narrowed.

I hold up my hands in defense. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream. You all do what you’ve got to do to keep winning and I’m with you one hundred percent.”

Eventually, most of the boxes are vaguely in the right rooms thanks to the guys. The team is spread out—Bodhi on the floor playing tug-of-war with Ella and a piece of ripped cardboard, Harrison double-fisting Gatorade like it’s beer, and Ledger using a broom to fish a sock from under the couch.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I take a sip from my water bottle, watching the action unfold around me. My stuff, my chaos, my lifeis officially colliding with Ledger’s.

I feel him step up beside me. His warmth covers me like a soft protective blanket. I like the feeling. I like it a lot.

He bumps my hip with his and softly asks, “Still want to live with me after all this?” He gestures to everyone hanging around the living room and I can’t help but smile.

“You mean after watching your teammates weaponize glitter and disrespect my mug collection?”

He laughs and I bump him back.

Bringing a hand to my stomach I nod slowly as I watch everyone hanging around together in the living room.“Yeah. I do. This feels…good. Like a weird, sweaty, muscley kind of home.”

“Welcome to the family,” he whispers before lowering his lips to mine for a chaste kiss.

On the other side of the breakfast bar, Griffin picks up a ruffled pillow giving it a squeeze and marveling at it like it’s the best thing he’s ever held in his hands.

“Why is this so soft? It’s like…made of angel butt.”

“Dude, if we play like crap this season, it’s because this apartment is now cursed with ruffles,” Bodhi laughs, rolling his eyes.

“But have you felt the ruffles, Roche?” Griffin asks, holding the throw pillow out for him to feel. “They’re like…fucking soft. Feel this!”

Bodhi reaches out and touches the pillow only to swiftly tug it out of Griffin’s grasp and snuggle with it on the floor. “I stand corrected. I’m in love with this pillow and I’m never giving it back. Where this pillow goes, I go.”

“That’s the pillow we used to conceive our baby,” I tell him deadpanned.

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