Page 79 of Slew Foot
A few minutes later, Tanner and Mickey came in with the meals they’d brought home from the team chef. Mickey sat at the foot of the bed and Tanner brought in a chair.
Happy, Rafe ate chicken and stars soup and blew his nose a lot while Tanner and Mickey told him all about practice.
“And get this,” Tanner said. “Strads scored on Ducky! He was so fucking mad about it too.”
“Ducky?” Rafe asked.
“Webby? Webber? Jesse?” Tanner prompted until Rafe nodded.
“Oh! Yeah. Sorry. I know I heard people call him Ducky at some point but …” Rafe shrugged. He was terrible with names even when his head didn’t feel like it was stuffed with snot. “How’d he get that nickname anyway?”
“His girls called him that. Not sure if it was Evie or Maura.”
“Connor’s girls?” Rafe asked.
“Well, Jesse calls them his now too, so …” Tanner shrugged. “Nolan too, of course.”
Rafe smiled. Theywerea cute family. Jesse and Connor always took the time to say hi to the girls when someone in the O’Shea family brought them to games, waving and blowing kisses through the glass.
Connor’s teenage son, who was supposedly growing up to be a very talented hockey player, was often there too.
It hit Rafe how much Connor had risked, dating a teammate. Not only the stability of the team, but bringing someone into his kids’ lives? That was a big fucking deal. He wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t sure Jesse was right for him. If he wasn’t sure Jesse was worth the risk.
Rafe looked up to see Mickey laughing at something Tanner said and felt a little pang of want. Not even sexual desire, though that had been flickering to life lately. But mostly the urge to beclose to Mickey. To know what the spot where his neck met his shoulder smelled like.
To know what the skin of his jaw would feel like against his lips. To know he and Mickey were in this together.
“Right, Turtle?” Tanner asked.
“Right,” he said automatically then immediately regretted it when Tanner and Mickey both laughed.
Shit, what had he agreed to?
After lunch, Tanner finally hooked up the TV Rafe had brought from Minnesota and hadn’t gotten around to setting up yet. He put on a movie, sprawling at the foot of the bed while Mickey sat beside Rafe.
They hadn’t gotten very far into the movie when Rafe realized it was taking way more energy than he had to sit up. He shifted, trying to find a position where he could lie down and still see the TV without much luck. He grumbled, shoving at the covers to bunch them up into a pillow. A moment later, an actual pillow appeared.
Rafe shot Mickey a grateful look and tucked the foam cushion under his cheek. But no matter how many times he bunched it up, he still couldn’t see over Tanner’s body.
“Oh my God, would you stopwiggling?” Tanner said, flailing behind him and smacking Rafe’s knee, which probably hurt him more than it did Rafe.
“That’s usually what I say to you,” Mickey said drily.
“It ismybed,” Rafe pointed out. “And I can’t see the TV. You’re in the way, dude.”
“Yeah, well I’m the reason your TV is working,” Tanner said, like Rafe couldn’t have plugged in a couple of cables himself, if he’d had the time.
And, like, motivation.
Mickey let out a huff and shifted his knee, bumping the top of Rafe’s head. “Here,” he said, patting his thigh, like he wanted Rafe to use it for a pillow.
Rafe gave him a surprised look, but he shrugged like it was no big deal.
And maybe it wasn’t? Just because Mickey wanted him, maybewasin love with him like Tanner had said earlier, didn’t mean it had to mean anything. He’d probably do the same for Tanner.
But Rafe secretly hoped not.
So Rafe shoved the pillow out of the way, scooted closer, then settled his cheek against the soft black cotton of Mickey’s sweats. His thigh was hard—he wasn’t a guy wholookedhuge but he was still very muscular—and he was warm and smelled like laundry soap and body wash.
