Page 51 of Bad Pucking Roommate

“They loved that we were doing something together, they just didn’t love the amount of time we spent doing it. Or watching games. We were sort of singularly focused.” My eyes drift shut as I remember all the hours we’d spend on the pond, skating and taking shots on the goal Grandpa had set up until we lost the light completely.

“So, your parents aren’t hockey fans? They didn’t want you to pursue it?”

“It’s more like they didn’t understand the dream. Mom would always tell Grandpa not to fill my head with nonsense about playing pro and let me get back to my chores. They assumed it was a long shot for me to go pro, which was fair since most people don’t. It didn’t stopme from pursuing it, even when it became clear they might be the last generation on the farm if I chose hockey.”

“The last generation?” Luca prompts.

“It was always assumed I’d take over the family farm one day, just like my mom did, and Grandpa before her. But I don’t love it the way they do. And I don’t want to be anyone’s boss. I think my parents, Mom especially, still hope one day I’ll come back to it, but they also respect the fact I have my own dreams... Grandpa was always my biggest supporter. I should’ve made a better effort to get back and see him–to talk to him more.”

“From what you told me about his condition, it doesn’t sound like he would’ve… um…” Luca chews on his lip, like he’s searching for the word he wants, finally settling on,“been aware. He wouldn’t have understood.”

“True. I know Grandpa hasn’t really beenherefor a while, but even if he didn’t understand or remember what I talked about most of the time, knowing Icouldtalk to him was… I don’t know. A security blanket, maybe? A way to convince myself he’d always be there. I know that sounds weird.”

“No weirder than a guy who has to jerk off in front of people before he plays a hockey game,” Luca huffs under his breath, and as awful as it is—since I know how much he’d like to change that about himself—I laugh. Not just a little chuckle either, a full-on, uncontrollable, tears streaming down my face laugh. After another huff, and an eye roll, Luca cracks a grin.

“I’m sorry.” I wipe traces of tears from my eyes. “I know that’s not funny, or it shouldn’t be.” I snort,snortin an effort not to laugh, which only makes it worse. “I don’t know why I can’t stop laughing.”

“You’re on an emotional roller coaster,” he excuses my outburst, “And honestly, it’s kind of nice to laugh about it for once. Usually, I try to drink away my shame.”

“Really?”

He shoots a withering look in my direction. “You’ve seen it. Remember the night we looked up the yips? I was on my second whisky when you stopped by.”

“I haven’t seen you drink since then. Before a game, anyway.”

“That’s because I haven’t done it.”

“You haven’t had an audience, either.” I want to slap my hand over my mouth the second the words are out, but that won’t erase them. I hold my breath, waiting to see what Luca will say in response.

For a while, there’s nothing. Just a tiny pull on his lip as he works it between his teeth. Then, with a tentative sideways glance, he finally speaks. “I think maybe it’s not the audience I need so much as the right person. Don’t ask me to explain it,” he rushes, ears turning pink for the first time since I’ve known him. “I wouldn’t know where to start, and it’s probably better if I don’t try right now. But it’s working, and… I like it.”

“I like it, too,” I whisper as we pull into my childhood home, and I brace for the reality of life without Grandpa to set in.

Chapter nineteen

Luca

Justus’s family is every bit as wholesome as he is. Soft-spoken, polite, with warm smiles despite the obvious sorrow they feel over losing his grandpa. They could be straight out of a Hallmark movie, standing in front of a quaint farmhouse with a white picket fence and the obligatory dog. It's like they've been eagerly awaiting our arrival, rushing forward to engulf us both as we step out of the car.

A petite blonde woman wraps her arms around my waist with more strength than I would’ve thought possible, mumbling a soft, “Thank you for coming.”

The welcome makes me think Justus told them I was coming, but he hasn’t been out of my sight since I got to his place yesterday, so I don’t know when he’d have had the time. The fact they’re so hospitable in the midst of their grief makes me appreciate Justus’s grandpa that much more, since I bet it’s his influence that made them all sogood.

It makes me wish I’d been able to meet the man myself.

When his mother releases me a burly man with soft brown eyes like Justus, and brown hair that’s the same shade only much less shaggy, takesmy hand firmly in his. “It’d mean the world to Justus’s grandfather that you’re here, Luca.”

“You know who I am?”

“We know who all our son’s teammates are,” he replies as he gives me a thoughtful once-over.Of course, they would. Why was I thinking this was a normal meet-the-parents situation where they’d have no reason to recognize me on sight?“Plus, your posters are all over Justus’s wall.”

I force a humble smile to my face, which I’m hoping doesn’t look as flimsy as my explanation sounds. “Yes. Right. Justus mentioned watching the Bulldogs when he was younger.”

“It wasn’t the Bulldogs he was watching, son.” Justus’s dad claps me on the shoulder.

Shit! Not the childhood idol thing again.

My stomach feels suddenly queasy. In my haste to be here for Justus, it didn’t occur to me that my presence might raise questions. Questions likewhy meinstead of literally anyone else, when people who follow hockey would know that I’m supposed to be at the All-Star game right now.

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