Page 12 of Love You Already

Nate takes my hint and waves me over. “Come on, Roe. I'll show you where you're headed. I'm sure the twins want to chatter for a while and Daddy needs to get his beauty rest. Right, old man?”

“Damn straight!” Our father barks out a laugh, then kisses me on the head and sends me off with my brother who has already grabbed my suitcase from the backseat of the truck.

I follow Nate inside and up the stairs to the second floor. We stop at the guest room, a place I helped decorate a dozen or so years ago and have stayed in every time I've been home since. Technically, we could call it my old room. The moment I left to pursue a riding career; I told Daddy to redo all my old stuff. I didn't think I was ever going to slow down and come home. My thoughts were that the only thing to tie me down would be a husband and a baby. Even then, that wasn't a vision I had often for myself.

Now, though, I long for the comforts of the familiar. I know this room inside and out. Which pieces of wood creak when you try to sneak around, the best way out the window and down the side of the house in case you can't make it downstairs. I knew to wear headphones when Nate had lady friends over and that Bridgett's singing in the shower would drown me out from the other side.

The noise in my head settled as my heart slowed to a crawl. I could rest now. No more bull riding or dragging myself from city to city. No late nights wrapping wounds or wondering if the next time would be the time the bull finally got me good.

I'm safe.

I'm free.

I'm home.

CHAPTER 6

YOU'RE THE ONE THAT GOT MARRIED.

Lachlan

Although I was initially upset about the trade, turns out Houston is a pretty chill place. The team welcomed me with open arms despite it being a mid-season switch. We worked our asses off nonstop to chase a spot in the finals. In the end, a bout of food poisoning took us down from our tip top shape and put us out of the standings.

“At least you didn't blow chunks on the ice, Loch Ness,” Jones tells me with a hearty chuckle as we stride into the stadium.

We're heading into the last team meeting of the season. While play time has been over since last week when we lost spectacularly, we've all only just gotten back on our feet enough to do the closing season conversations. You know the type. They have them at every job that takes a big seasonal break. Professional sports. Teaching. Things like that.

The admin staff brings everyone together to discuss how we should behave and train during the off season. For teachers, I'm sure it's something like, 'enjoy your time away and don't be scandalous'. Ours is nearly identical, except it comes with a few more provisions.

Some of us will be told to park it close to home since traveling far and wide is too big a temptation to resist trouble. That would be O'Connor.Others will be told they should get more practice time in the ring to improve their game. I'm on that roster for sure.And then there will be some the coaches don't have to intimidate at all. They’re the type who follow the rules to a T. They'd never be caught out of line or anything close to it. Looking at you Brady.

“You think they'll get us in and out pretty quickly? I'm looking to head out as soon as I can.”

Jones shrugs at my question. “Who knows with these guys? Coach would have us in and out in under thirty. But with the higher ups, I never know.”

I trust Jones's opinion on the matter. He has been with Houston for the last five years. This isn't his first trip around the sun. He knows better than most what the end of season process looks like.

Once we're inside the arena, we make our way to the massive film room where the meeting is supposed to be held. A few guys are already there when we arrive, but most of the team appears to still be MIA.

“We taking bets on who will be last?” Rodgers, a vet with a borderline dangerous love of gambling, shouts once we're inside.

When I take a look around again, I notice that it's mostly older players here. None of the rookies — oh wait — there's one rookie here. Phillips is tucked in the corner with a book in hand. The man is a fanatic about his novels, so I'm not surprised. Though him beating me to a meeting is definitely a shocker.

Hell, Jones and I were fifteen minutes early. Since Jones and I are neighbors, I tend to stick to his schedule when it comes to training. It helped me when I first arrived and now I keep up with the guy because I genuinely like him.

“Stop betting Rodgers! You've lost enough money this year,” Coach says as walks in with a few of the rookies trailing behind him. I don't know how the man hears damn near everything in this facility, but I swear if words are spoken near the Coyotes building, he knows who said it and he can spout out each word.

Rodgers grunts in response. “It's just good old fun, Coach. Don't be like that.”

“It won't be all fun when you find yourself in a back alley beat to holy hell. Or when I catch your mugshot on the news because you couldn't stay out of trouble. Houston isn’t too hot a place for this stuff in general. Still, I'm adding you to the no-fly list. Barring none of your family has an emergency, you're under strict orders to keep your butt out of any casino, gambling center, and even anything online that looks shady. You hear me?” Coach's voice is pure steel. His gaze is hard as he stands with his hands on his hips hovering a few steps away from Rodgers.

“Got it.” Bitter words from a bitter man.

It's in his best interest though. Nothing good can come from him hitting up Atlantic City like he did last off season. Or worse, heading to Vegas, the gambling capital of the world.

Not that I'm not a fan of Vegas. My memories from my trip there are quite a delight. In fact, if I could find little Miss Rose again, I'd be sure to hold her a bit tighter. She'd left after I'd fallen asleep and damn if I didn't feel the loss when I came to. I wanted to wrap her up and sweep her away to Houston with me.

But since we didn't exchange more than first names, there's not a chance of me locating her again.

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