The food is incredible. Declan came home from work with takeaway containers of lobster bisque and the best lobster rolls I've ever eaten, and as a Mainer, I've had my fair share. I don't know if I should be eating lobster rolls and bisque during the season. I normally wouldn't, but fuck it, it's been a day.
Abbott is eating them too so I don’t feel too much like I’m breaking the rules or anything. Staying with them has been interesting. His life is so different from mine. I know he’s got a few years on me, but still. I feel like he’s a decade ahead of me when I observe this family life he has.
The two are like a typical married couple, even though they aren’t officially married. They bicker over silly things, finish each other’s sentences, and shoot each other smiles only they seem to get the meaning of. Right now they’re debating the menu details of Abbott’s sister’s spring wedding. Declan has been put in charge of catering it through his family’s restaurant. They make me homesick, honestly, because they remind me of what life is like in Silver Bay with all the Garrisons and Richards… and Mac.
“So, Con, when is your family finally going to come to a game?” Abbott asks me as he finishes his bisque. “The marketing department is itching to do some reels with your dad or uncles and you.”
“Ah… I’ve kind of been asking them to stay away,” I admit. “I wanted time to settle in first. I don’t know if the coach is really vibing with me yet. And I know when my family comes to games, the media attention can be distracting for me, the fans, the coaches. The Barons used to hate it. I mean, the marketing department loved it, but Coach hated the way it pulled focus off the team and onto me when my dad and uncles were visiting. He actually asked that I not participate in the father-son weekend trip last year.”
Abbott and Declan are both staring at me in shock now. I just give them a bit of a shrug. “Wow. He sounds like a piece of work.”
“I hope you participated anyway,” Declan tells me.
“I didn’t,” I confess. “I honestly jumped through hoops for that team and that management and no matter what I did it just never worked.”
"I feel that way with our coach sometimes," Abbott confesses and then he immediately looks guilty. "I can't say he's as bad as what you've described with Landry. Not at all. But it makes sense you're not feeling like you're vibing with him. I still don't and it's been almost two years. The guy is brutally old-school in a lot of ways. He doesn't understand why players have become brands, or why they all have to have social media accounts of their own and let the fans into their lives. And he especially has issues with the way the owners stick their fingers in the management side of the team."
I think about the rumors I’ve seen buzzing on sports sites and that some of the hockey trolls have been bold enough to put on my own seldomly used Instagram. I finish my soup and reach for the pitcher of water in the center of the table, topping up everyone’s glass before refilling my own. “About that. I did the obligatory ‘thanks Barons for a great run. Looking forward to my future with the Riptide” post on my usually neglected Insta and a few people made the usual mean girl type comments.”
“Gotta love the internet,” Declan growls and rolls his eyes.
"The main dig I keep getting is that the owners are the ones who pressured management to pick me up," I explain, and my eyes lock on Abbott's face, looking for some sort of sign that shows me if this rumor is true or not. "They just want local boys."
I don’t have to wait long for a sign. And it’s not a facial tick or the way he averts his eyes or any usual sign of bluffing, because Abbott doesn’t bluff. “Yeah, it’s probably true.”
“Oh.” Not what I was hoping for.
“Coach told me, flat-out when they scooped me up that they were forced to pick me by the owner because I was the hometown hero.” Abbott pauses to sip from his water. “Maxwell didn’t even want to make me captain, even after Briggs retired, but owners pushed him on it. Hometown angle is important to them. They’re local nerds who accidentally made a few hundred million on a chip that improves MRI imaging and could retire at forty and install a hockey franchise in their home state for shits and giggles. We are, quite literally, their Barbie Dolls and the Riptide is their Barbie Dream House.”
“So it doesn’t irk you?”
Abbott shakes his head, and his wheat-colored hair flops over his forehead. "Every now and then it tries to bug me. When I'm having a weak moment but I don't let it," Abbott says, his blue eyes flashing with exhaustion for a minute but then he shrugs. "I know I'm working my ass off. I know I'm trying to earn every opportunity. I know I'm not in control of other people's motivation or their opinions."
“I get pissed when they say he only got chosen as captain because he’s gay,” Declan adds and his angular jaw tightens. “First everyone said it would cost him his career, now those same trolls are screaming it gave him his career.”
Abbott squeezes his hand momentarily. “It’s a win-win situation.”
"You mean lose-lose," I correct him because that's what I think he means when someone can't win no matter what they do.
Abbott grins. “Nah. I only win. They don’t have to give me credit for it, but I’ll do it anyway.”
I smile at his cocky attitude. It gives me a small jolt of confidence. I hope I can transfer that over to the ice.
“So any thoughts so far on where you might live?” Declan asks as he starts to clear the dishes.
“I’m still debating either around this area or the Old Port,” I tell him and take the plates from him and bring them over to their dishwasher.
"Two very different vibes between here and the Old Port," Abbott muses as he walks over to the coffee bar. I've realized he loves an after-dinner espresso. "I love the quieter life out here, and the ocean, but if you're single, the busy nightlife and restaurants of the Port are what you need. I never asked if you had a girlfriend."
“Or boyfriend,” Declan adds.
I smile. “I’m single. Mostly.”
Now they’re both staring at me with eyebrows raised so I swallow hard and try to explain. “I think I like this woman, an old family friend I recently got reacquainted with but she may have started dating someone else. I’m not sure.”
“Thank God my sister isn’t here to hear this,” Abbott says with a wry smile. “She was a private investigator. She’d take it upon herself to get to the bottom of not only this woman’s dating status but also her criminal history and credit score.”
Declan chuckles. "You don't need a P.I., just ask her. Do you know how much time Abbott and I wasted second-guessing each other or misinterpreting things that caused us to almost break up. Trust me, Conner, tell this woman you're interested."
I close the dishwasher door and decide I should take Declan’s advice and I might as well do it now before I talk myself out of it. "I have to make a call.."
“Smart man,” Declan replies.
I slip out into the hall and jog up the stairs to my room where my phone is still attached to the charger on the bedside table. I flop back on the king-sized mattress covered in a royal blue striped duvet. I don't know which one of these guys has the decorating sense, but this whole house is on point. The perfect mix of masculine and beachy. If I do end up with a place in Ocean Pines, or nearby Old Orchard Beach, which I've also been looking at, then I will have to ask them for decorating tips. Another thing I never gave a second thought to in Brooklyn.
I hit Mac’s number before I can let the negative thoughts get too loud.
“Hey,” she says, and I note immediately that something is off in her tone. She sounds flustered. Frazzled.
"Hey, do you have a minute?" I ask more tentatively than I'd expected to sound. There's a lot of noise coming through her phone, rumbling and zipping, like traffic. "Where are you?"
“About forty minutes from Portland. On the side of the turnpike.”
I sit up and my heart slips down into my gut. “What? Why? Are you okay?”
“Fine. My stupid car though… I think it’s finally bit it, once and for all,” she tells me.
“Get away from the shoulder, even if you have to go stand in the snow, do it,” I command as I get off the bed and head toward the door. “When the road’s slippery, cars can and have plowed into people on the shoulder.”
“I’m being careful,” Mac says, and she sounds a little annoyed at getting instructions. “And I called a tow truck. They’ll be here in… like anywhere from twenty minutes to one hour from now. They couldn’t give me a better window.”
“I’m on my way,” I tell her as I open my bedroom door and head down the stairs.
“Conner, no. I can handle this,” she argues.
“I know you can, but you’re going to have to get back to Silver Bay. The tow truck driver isn’t taking you that far,” I remind her as my feet hit the hardwood in the front entry and I open the closet to get my coat. “How did you intend to get home?”
“I was going to call a friend.”
“Well, hi friend,” I say with a smile. “I’ll see you soon. Drop me a pin please.”
“Conner.”
"Pin, princess. I'm not taking no for an answer," I warn. She sighs but it's an admission of defeat and I feel great. "See you soon."
I hang up and head back into the kitchen. Declan and Abbott are both by the coffee station now, fussing with fancy caffeinated beverages. I clear my throat. “Hey so, remember when, Declan, you mentioned I could borrow your car if I needed to?”
“Yeah. You need it tonight? Now?”
"If it isn't too much trouble," I reply. "That woman I was telling you about is stuck on the turnpike with a broken-down car."
“Keys are on the credenza in the hall,” Declan says without blinking.
“You got a repair shop to tow it to?” Abbott asks and when I just shrug he adds, “I’ll text you a place. Reliable and fair prices.”
“Thanks.”
“Go be her hero, Garrison,” Declan declares and waves me off. “And take as much time as you need. Abbott can drive me to work tomorrow.”
I thank him and grab the keys to his truck off the table in the hall before leaving. I’m not trying to be a hero, but I have been feeling pretty useless since the waivers incident, except when I’m with Mac. Being with her, and helping her, is the one thing I seem to be able to get right.
I reach her in decent time. The tow truck must have just gotten there because he's still hooking the car up when I pull to a stop behind them. I put on my four ways and hop out. Mac is standing just like she promised, off the shoulder, away from traffic. She actually flashes me a grateful smile when she sees me. I walk right over and wrap her in a hug.
She kind of melts into me, which I love. I kiss the top of her head. “Got you, princess.”
“I’m no princess,” she tells me for the millionth time. “I’m definitely Cinderella and my stupid carriage has turned into a pumpkin.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t drive produce,” I quip and lead her to Declan’s truck. “Go warm up and I’ll make sure the tow guy is good to go.”
“I want to argue with you, but I’m too cold,” she replies, then pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to me. “Give him my credit card so he can charge the tow, please.”
I nod. As she gets in the passenger seat, I go over to the burly guy who has finally finished hooking up the car. I stare at it. Why the hell is Mac driving this hunk of junk anyway. It’s about ten years old and has rust patches on it all over the place.
“It’s gonna be forty-five for the tow back to town,” the driver grumbles at me.
“Can you tow it to Ocean Pines?” I ask and pull up my phone showing him the address of the repair shop Declan sent me.
The guy furrows his brow as he reads the address but nods. “Yeah, sure, but that’s gonna be an extra twenty because of distance. I’ll need a credit card to run.”
“Fine,” I reach into my wallet and hand him my Black Amex. He takes it and trots back to the cab of his truck. When I put my hands in my pockets so my fingers don’t freeze off while I wait for him, I feel Mac’s credit card and realize I completely forgot she gave it to me. I was just so focused on getting this sorted.
The guy gives me a nod from the cab of his truck and hands me back my credit card as his engine roars to life. I thank him and head to my own car. Yeah, I fucked up the credit card thing, but I'm not about to spend another ten minutes out here in the cold. It's not like I can't afford to tow her. And besides, I like being her knight in shining armor.
I hop back into the truck and give her a smile. “Now let’s get you back to your castle, princess.”
“You and that damn nickname…” she mutters but she’s smiling.
And when I put the truck into drive, I am too.