Page 3 of Over the Moon

I let out a breath before sending her my home address, unsure if she knew the gym we’d be training in was my own personal gym. But she’d figure that out quickly. She wasn’t happy about coming here, and honestly, I wasn’t thrilled about it either.

Hockey was my job, too. I took it very seriously. But we were allowed to celebrate for a few days before we got back to work.

The woman appeared to be very uptight and easily annoyed.

I saw the three little dots move across the screen before they disappeared.

She was done with the chitchat, and I wasn’t surprised.

The pounding on my front door had me moving off the bar stool and heading that way.

“Open up, dickhead!” a familiar voice shouted from the other side of the door.

I tugged open the door to find my oldest brother, Bridger, standing there.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought we were meeting up tomorrow.”

My entire family had been at every single playoff game, and it had been a battle, so there’d been seven games in total.

It meant a lot to me that they’d all been there.

Even my brother, Rafe, and his girlfriend, Lulu, who currently lived in Paris, had been there.

“I came to check on you,” he said, moving past me as he held up a large bag of food from the Honey Biscuit Café. The smell of tangy barbecue had my stomach rumbling.

“Damn. I guess I am hungry.”

“You look like shit. How’s the knee?” Bridger asked.

“Thanks,” I rolled my eyes at him as he pulled open the back door and set the food on the table there. “I haven’t slept much this past week. It’s been nonstop. Happy to be home.”

The sun was just starting to go down, and my yard sat right on the river. Water splashed against the rocks, and the smell of pine and lavender flooded my senses.

We dropped to sit at the big wooden table on my patio, and he handed me my food and utensils. “You’ve been going hard through the playoffs and then celebrating just as hard. I assumed you’d be hungry, and I was just picking up dinner there.”

“Thanks. This is great.”

He studied me before taking the lid off his plate. “You worried about the knee?”

Bridger was a complete hardass by nature, but the dude had a soft side for his family, even if he tried hard to hide it.

“No. I’ve dealt with this before. I’ve got a full-time physical therapist moving here for three months to help me rehab it back to health, all while getting in shape for the new season.” I scrubbed a hand down my face, knowing this was going to be a lot of work. I was up for it, but it wouldn’t be easy.

“Good. I’m glad they’re sending someone. And I’m glad you can do it from home.” He picked up a giant beef rib and took a bite.

“Yeah, me too. But from what I’ve heard, she isn’t happy about having to relocate here for the next few months.”

“Well, you scored the winning goal at the Stanley Cup, I’m guessing you can call in a few favors.”

It wasn’t like that, though. I wasn’t being an asshole about being here. I really was just a dude who liked being home.

“Nah, it’s not like that. There are fewer distractions here, and I can get myself in shape and do what I need to do. There are no photographers trying to catch you doing something wrong. Fewer bars. Fewer distractions,” I chuckled.

“I get that. So, you’ll do your thing; it’s what you do best.” He shrugged. “And I’m sure you’ll win your physical therapist over in no time.”

I barked out a laugh. “That might be tougher than winning the cup.”

He smirked. “You’re Clark fucking Chadwick. You’ve got this.”

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