Page 56 of Love of the Game
Despite all that was running through my head, I fell asleep hard and woke early. After texting with the team, I found out when Jon’s surgery was (nine this morning) and that Coach was giving me a maintenance day. So a coffee and an hour drive later, and I was letting myself into Jon’s house.
Loki practically tackled me, so I swept his big fluffy butt up into my arms. “Hey, it’s okay! I know you’ve been alone forever!”
Meanwhile Thor meowed forlornly at my feet. “You guys are going on a trip, okay? Going to come live with me for a bit.”
I set Loki on the floor and quieted his protests by feeding both him and Thor. Then I stood in the living room with my hands on my hips, making a mental checklist of what I’d need. Thank goodness I’d lived here for a while, because I knew where everything was. Took me the better part of the morning to pack the cats’ stuff up. The smaller of the two scratching posts fit in my SUV, thankfully.
I also grabbed the pile of books by Jon’s bed, his laptop, all his chargers, and the perishable stuff in the fridge (that went into a cooler he kept in the garage).
Wrangling the cats into their carriers wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, and I didn’t even lose any blood in the process. Loki complained bitterly, which set Thor to whining, too, but I’d take that over having them here on their own.
The ride back was another hour, but this time with a chorus of unhappy cat noises, which I tried to quell by singing nonsense songs to them like Jon did. I think everyone in the SUV was quite happy when I reached my apartment. Cats went up first, and they vanished up the stairs to the floor with the bedrooms as soon as I let them out of the carriers.
Probably thought I was catnapping them, or something.
Spent a few more hours setting things up in the house, and the cats came out of hiding. Loki bumped up against my legs and let me pick him up. “Your dad’s hurt. He’s gonna spend some time here, so you guys need to be here too, okay?”
Loki meowed at me and looked unimpressed, but clung to me when I attempted to place him on the floor, so I ended up carrying twenty-some pounds of cat around the house with me.
Guess I was getting my off-ice workout after all.
When my phone chimed, I maneuvered Loki into one arm and snatched it up to see a text from our GM telling me Jon was out of surgery and that everything went well. I let out a breath.
I wasn’t worried, per se, but hearing that Jon was okay felt like a weight lifted off me.
I deposited Loki on a scratching post. “Sorry, bud. Gotta go see your dad.” I grabbed Jon’s phone charger and the book he’d been reading, and headed out.
Jon wasn’t the only person in his room when I got there, the man sitting at his bedside and speaking quietly with Jon in Swedish was utterly recognizable. Jon’s father noticed me first, and his smile was almost a twin to the one Jon had so often. “Ah,” he said. “Your young man is here.”
Jon’s smile was a tired version of his father’s. “Hey. You’re here.”
“I am. And I brought your phone charger and the book you were reading.”
As I entered the room, his father stood, and I was reminded that Gunther Eriksson, at six foot four, was taller than his son. Taller than me. His blond hair had silvered over the years, and his clean-shaven face had mischievous wrinkles. His smile, and the twinkling in his blue eyes were so akin to Jon’s that I wondered how in the world I’d missed that these two were related when I’d met Jon all those months ago.
I gave Jon his charger and book, and leaned in for a quick kiss. Jon looked so much better. Tired, yes. Very rumpled. His arm and shoulder were in a high tech–looking sling, but gone was the glassy-eyed stare of the night before.
Jon’s father cleared his throat. “You must be Drake. It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.”
I shook his hand. “Hello, sir. It’s nice to meet you, too. Even if it’s because?—”
“I broke myself,” Jon said.
His father sighed. “Jon, you were tripped.”
“And broke myself,” Jon replied, cheerily.
“Anyway,” I said, because I knew Jon would go off on that tangent if I let him, “Wish it had been for better circumstances.”
“Same. Andplease. Gunner or Erik. Sir is too formal, and I am not particularly that.”
“Gunner.” I grabbed a folding chair I’d spotted in the corner and took a seat on the other side of Jon’s bed. “Loki and Thor are settling into the apartment. Loki wouldn’t let me set him down for a while.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “Oh, that big baby. Thanks for getting them.” He tapped the book. “And this.” He paused. “And for keeping me from drunk-buying a place last night.”
Gunner laughed at that. “You didn’t!” He turned to me. “He didn’t, did he?”
“Well, he was thinking about it. But I have three bedrooms. Enough for the cats and you two, I think.”
