Page 6 of Knocked Sideways

He felt like maybe he’d learned a lot about Remy in their brief meeting. Insanely graceful on the ice. Unaccountably humble. Prone to blushing. More memorable than he should have been.

But Jed didn’t actually know him. Fuck. Jed was tired. He’d been at the bar way too long. He needed to end this conversation and get home, so he gave Hal a little more.

Grant

I know the name

And I know his UVM coach

He’s a fan FWIW

I’m sure Ladoux will fit in easy

Hal

Yeah but I’m gonna ask you to make sure he settles in okay

First Mike, then Hal. Did he have “babysitter” tattooed on his forehead? But he knew Hal would’ve said that about any new d-man.

Grant

You know I will

Go to sleep

The rooks are gonna be useless tomorrow

Hal

Well get them the fuck home old guy

Jed grimaced and looked back at the dance floor. McBride had disappeared, and Moreau was whispering in some girl’s ear, clearly getting ready to do the same. Good. Then he’d be able to round up the true rookies and send them on their way.

By the time the last of the rookies headed out of the bar in a group, promising that they had a ride waiting outside, Jed had downed some water and was sober enough to drive home. It wasn’t a short drive. Unlike most of his teammates, he’d bought a house about forty-five minutes outside of the city in the foothills. On nights like this, he regretted it until he was winding up the last few miles of road with nothing but trees on either side.

This was why he’d moved to Denver. Despite the fact that the city of Boston had treated him well—in some ways, it was heaven for a queer kid who’d grown up in Montana—it never truly felt like home. He might’ve left Montana as quickly as he could, but it turned out that part of him needed to be in the mountains. And as far as Jed was concerned, there were no real mountains anywhere near Boston, no matter what the good people of New England believed.

Jed’s shoulders relaxed as he let himself into the dimly lit house and headed for bed. He couldn’t deny that watching Moreau and McBride leave the bar with partners in tow made him feel a pang of regret. The demands of playing hockey made it hard to date—and when he had made the effort, back when he was younger, he’d learned that he wasn’t what most guys were looking for, anyway. He was too happy just to have dinner and sit with his arm around a guy on the couch. People made assumptions about him based on his size and his job and were inevitably disappointed when those assumptions proved false.

Mike had never had the same problem finding someone to be with, although he’d kept the fact that he was gay pretty quiet. Jed wondered if Mike had been celebrating with someone tonight when he’d texted. And maybe it was only natural that from there, his thoughts went to what Remy Ladoux had been doing when he learned he’d need to fly to Colorado the next day. Jed had no doubt that a guy who looked and played like Ladoux hadn’t spent New Year’s Eve alone.

Jed was uncomfortably aware that his skin felt a little too tight when he pictured Ladoux showing up with his long-lashed eyes and messy curls at practice the next day.

It wasn’t a familiar feeling, and it wasn’t a welcome one, either.

Fucking get it together, Jed told himself as he pulled back the covers and fell into bed. Be content with what you’ve got.

He had more than he’d ever dreamed of as a kid, and he was grateful. But it still took him far too long to fall asleep.

CHAPTER THREE

REMY

Fifteen hours after he’d said goodbye to Lily, Remy was standing awkwardly at the entrance to the Colorado Blizzards’ locker room, taking in all the ways it was different from Montreal’s. Darker wood for the stalls, better lighting, thicker carpet—Colorado’s practice facility was brand-new, and it showed.

It even smelled better, like there hadn’t been time yet for sweat to permeate every surface. And instead of the French pop that Montreal’s designated DJ had favored before practices, low-key techno pulsed in an undercurrent to the chatter of guys finishing up their stretching and pulling on their gear.

Remy felt like he was watching the whole scene from above, taking in the teammates who were lost in their routines and the ones who were nudging each other as they noticed him. Seeing himself trying to be as inconspicuous as possible for a six-foot, 180-pound defenseman who didn’t know where to go.