Page 84 of Full Contact

“I’ll put my best man on it,” Trier said, and handed it to me.

At a red light on Ashland, Trier turned to me. “Are you going to issue the village a statement?”

“The Village Post Office is aware of unconfirmed reports of a fire. Out of an abundance of caution, residents are advised to remain indoors and keep their cords plugged into the power strip until—“

I couldn’t finish. I was laughing hard. The car behind us tapped its horn.

“Green,” I said. “Drive, Trier.”

***

We beat Nashville two–one in the last game before the break.

In the media room afterward, Leah ran the availability. I took my usual spot against the back wall beside the door, hands in my pockets, while the cameras packed into the front rows. Trier sat third in the order. A reporter asked about the shot he’d blocked with forty seconds left.

“It was headed for the net,” Trier said. “I was in the way.”

“Did it hurt?”

“It’s going to hurt in the morning.”

Trier came out of the locker room with his tie rolled in his jacket pocket. He’d left his car in the players’ garage for the break, and we drove to his place in mine with the heater on high while the wind off the lake rattled the car.

His suitcase lay open on his bed: three sweaters, a flat package with JOSH written on it in marker, and the Michigan T-shirt rolled into a corner. He moved a fourth sweater into the case so I could sit on the bed.

“That’s a lot of sweaters for two nights.”

“Russ keeps the house at sixty-four. Kelsey wears a hat indoors.”

Trier unbuttoned his shirt. I slid a hand along his ribs, just above the little airplane, and he jerked sideways.

“Don’t. I’m busy.”

“I was helping with the shirt.”

“You were not helping with the shirt.” He laughed. “Kelsey says this year she’s bringing the space heater in from the garage, and Russ is going to—“

I hooked the fingers of one hand into the back of his waistband and let the other hand settle on an ass cheek.

He stopped talking. He looked down at me, one cuff still buttoned.

“That’s not idle teasing,” he said.

“No.”

Trier dropped the shirt on the suitcase, put a knee on the mattress beside me, and kissed me. He tasted of mint gum. I lay back and pulled him with me. Something hard dug into my shoulder blade.

“Hold on.” He reached under me and pulled out a hardcover book with a suspension bridge on the cover. “Present from Josh.”

“Is the cover accurate?”

“Yes. It’s about bridges.” He dropped it in the suitcase without looking and kissed me again.

He took my shirt from me before I could fold it and dropped it beside the bed.

“That goes on a hanger.”

“Eventually.”