Page 46 of Pucking Wild

RACHEL (7:50 p.m.): MISSED CALL

RACHEL (7:51 p.m.): Girl, answer your phone. Major crossed wires happening over here!

RACHEL (7:54 p.m.): MISSED CALL

RACHEL (7:55 p.m.): Please don’t freak out, but apparently Jake told Langley he could stay there too. He didn’t know you were already there.

RACHEL (7:56 p.m.): Don’t worry, I’ll fix this. OMW

I sigh, shaking my head. At this point it’s all just par for the freaking course. I glance up to see Ryan still sitting inside on the couch. He’s in profile, not looking my way. He looks exhausted and miserable. And he’s hurt. A knee sprain, he said. I didn’t even ask him how bad it is or how long he’ll be off the ice. Hockey is the only thing these guys care about. It’s their whole world. He has to be reeling a bit too.

The doorbell rings, and both he and the dog jump with surprise, their heads turning towards the front door. Ryan reaches for his crutches, wincing as he tries to get up.

I launch into motion, pulling open the patio door. “I’ll get it,” I say. “It’s just Rachel.”

He sinks back onto the sofa with a groan, not looking my way.

I hurry across the living room, the tail of my blanket dress dragging across the floor. Poseidon dances at the front door, whimpering with excitement, like he knows who waits on the other side. I pull open the door, and he darts past me, yipping for joy to see his family again.

Mars and Jake are here too. Rachel looks anxious, Jake looks guilty, and Mars is pissed. As one, they take me in, three sets of eyes trailing from my face, down across my blanket dress, and back up.

Jake’s face splits into a grin. “Well, that happened fast.” He glances to his partners. “I guess we have no problem here then, right? So, everyone can just stop being mad at Jake now.”

“Hush,” Rachel says with a wave of her hand. “Tess, oh my god, what did you—”

“Will you get your head out of the gutter? I wasn’t having sex,” I cry indignantly. “I was in the sauna.” I spin on my heel and march back into the house. Ignoring Ryan, I sweep into the kitchen and snatch up my glass of wine, taking a deep swig.

The Prices say their ‘hellos’ to him as I step up to the edge of the sofa, not sitting down. The three of them stand there, Rachel and Jake in front, Ilmari framing them from behind with his arms crossed over his barrel chest.

“So apparently we got our wires crossed a bit here,” Rachel begins. “Tess, I gave you a key when we left and said you could stay here as long as you needed.” Her gaze shifts slowly to look at her husband. “Apparently, Jake said the same to Ryan without telling anyone—”

“Oh my fucking god, don’t get me started again,” Jake huffs. “You did the same thing, babe. You didn’t tell anyone you gave her a key—”

“It just hadn’t come up yet,” she retorts, hands on her hips. “We were all a little busy with the Winter Classic, remember? It didn’t seem necessary to chase you out onto the ice and horse-collar you just to tell you I gave Tess a key to a house none of us live in—”

“Horse-collaring is a football tackle,” he shouts. “In hockey it’s called ‘holding’—”

“That is so far beyond the point—”

“Itisthe point! You’re married to three hockey players—”

“Enough,” Ilmari barks, his gaze darting between them. “How did either of you get a key? That’smyquestion.”

“Caleb,” they say at the same time.

“He made us all keys just in case we needed them,” Rachel explains.

“Yeah, what’s yours is mine now, asshole,” Jake adds. “Metaphors, remember?”

“Ohmygod, it’smetamour,” Rachel cries. “We can’t keep correcting you—”

“Fuck! I hate that fucking word.” He glares at Mars. “I hate calling you a metamour, Mars. It’s weird and confusing and I just—I fucking hate it.”

“I never asked you to call me that,” Ilmari replies.

“We gotta pick something better,” Jake presses. “Why can’t I just call you my husband?”

“I never said you couldn’t,” he says softly.

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