MY HOUSE DIDN’T have a downstairs bedroom, but there was a game room I’d never used for anything but as a catch-all space for extra storage. A handful of my teammates and their wives helped me get it set up as a bedroom for Natalie in the days before her release from the hospital.
We dragged all the random moving boxes I’d never bothered to unpack out into the garage, and made sure there was nothing on the floors that might trip her or make it difficult for her to get around since she would be on crutches for another month or so.
Hunter Fielding and Eric “Zee” Zellinger were in the midst of assembling a free-standing closet, since there wasn’t a built-in closet in this room, while Dima held the directions and grumbled what I could only assume were Russian curse words at them. Razor Chambers and Drew Nash had brought in a bed and were getting it put together while I hung double doors in the open space leading to the living room, with Travis “Prince” Royal, who was currently my defensive partner, and Seth McCormick, an older forward better known as Mac, holding them in place for me.
There was a bathroom down the hall that Natalie could get into easily enough, too, which would be helpful.
But then again, the shower in my upstairs bathroom might be easier for her to get in and out of, aside from the fact that she’d have to climb the stairs. It was a walk-in, as opposed to one that would require her climbing over the walls of the tub.
Honestly, I didn’t know which would be better. I’d just have to talk it over with her and see what she preferred. We could figure some of these things out as we went along. However much I wanted everything to be perfect and easy for her, the truth was I didn’t have to have all the answers in place before she arrived.
As part of her rehabbing in the hospital, they’d taken her into a mini-apartment that had been set up in the building, helping her to see how she could get around, navigate stairs, and tackle taking care of herself in the kitchen and bathroom. I’d honestly never imagined hospitals did things like that, but it seemed to help Natalie feel more confident about leaving.
While the guys and I took care of the heavy lifting of preparing my house for Natalie’s arrival, Tallie organized a few of the WAGs to decorate the makeshift bedroom. They bought bed linens, a rug that shouldn’t trip her but would still help with getting traction, curtains, and all sorts of cutesy little doodads to go on the nightstand and some of the other flat surfaces, supposedly to make it feel feminine and home-like for her.
Since none of us wanted to have anything to do with Lennon, we decided not to bother with trying to get Natalie’s clothes from him. For all I knew, he’d already gotten rid of them, anyway. Plus, if I ended up within fifty yards of him, I wasn’t certain I’d be able to stop myself from ripping out his throat. Better to keep my distance.
Instead, a few of the WAGs who were around the same size as Natalie had pooled their resources and brought over enough comfortable clothes—pj’s and other things she could lounge around the house in—to get her through until she was well enough to go shopping. London had brought in a shopping bag with new underthings from some store I’d never heard of, so I could only assume they specialized in women’s undergarments.
“No one wants to wear someone’s used drawers,” she’d pronounced. Reasonable enough if you asked me. I decided not to question her.
All the clothes were already hanging in the closet and folded neatly in the dresser drawers, ready for Natalie’s arrival. Now we were down to putting the finishing touches on things.
Dana set out some candles in the bathroom and hung a couple of paintings on the walls, and before long, I didn’t even recognize the place. One thing that had been sorely lacking in my life, through the entire time I’d lived in Tulsa, was a feminine touch. Kinsey had always taken care of things like that when we’d been together, but I honestly hadn’t bothered with it since we’d split up.
That was one more reason I liked the idea of having Natalie come and live here. For however long it lasted, this arrangement would be as good for me and Carter as it was bound to be for her. We’d have to live like civilized people and not like cavemen.
On the day I was supposed to bring Natalie home with me, Tallie finished off her decorating with a bouquet of flowers she’d picked up on the way over, setting them in a simple glass vase. “Flowers make everything better,” she pronounced, rearranging them.
And who was I to argue? If Tallie said flowers would make things better, I was inclined to agree with her. They couldn’t exactly make things worse, unless Natalie was deathly allergic to flowers or something.
While I was sure Natalie would appreciate everything we’d done so far, I honestly believed she would be happy with anything at all, as long as it didn’t smell like antiseptic and no needles or scalpels were involved. She’d spent so much time in the hospital and had been poked and prodded so much she must feel like a pin cushion. This was bound to be an improvement.
Carter was flying in this morning. He’d been in Michigan with Kinsey for the last couple of weeks, but he had a long weekend off from school that coincided with the T-Birds being at home for a few days, as well as Natalie’s release from the hospital. I knew he’d be excited about bringing her home with us. Every time I talked to him, the first thing he wanted to know was how Natalie was doing, even before he asked me about Snoopy.
And while I was on the subject of my son… I made a mental note to remind Carter that he needed to stick to the upstairs bathroom. There would be no crutches slipping in toothpaste on my watch. Boys would be boys, but that didn’t mean he had to be a heathen in spaces that would endanger Natalie’s safety.
I headed back into the living room to figure out what else I needed to rearrange or tidy up before bringing her into the house. Snoopy barked and followed close behind me. He seemed to be aware that something was changing. With any luck, he’d adapt to the changes as well as the rest of us.
The smell of hot dogs and macaroni and cheese wafted over me, so I followed my nose to the kitchen. London had just brought in a few huge aluminum foil pans full of food that she was putting into the oven.
“Kid food,” she said, not bothering to look up at me. “If Carter’s anything like my husband, he’ll be hungry from the moment he arrives until you put him in bed tonight. This way you can always have something ready for him, since I have a feeling you’ll be distracted by getting Natalie settled. There’s also some adult food in the fridge. Made a pasta salad, a spinach salad, and there are sandwich fixings. Figured I’d keep it simple for everyone.” She wheeled around me with ease, her lap loaded with paper plates and plastic ware, taking those to the dining room table.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. But then she angled her head toward the other room, where her husband was still working on assembling furniture with the other guys. “I made brownies. Turtle brownies, with lots of caramel. I put those on the counter. They’re for Natalie because she told me they’re her favorite. If anyone so much as takes a crumb from that pan before she gets here to eat them, I will personally cut his dick and balls off with a rusty spork, you hear me?” She said that last part with a raised voice.
“You won’t cut my dick,” Dima shot back, coming into the room with us. Then he grinned and winked at her. “You like it too much.”
“You’d better hope you’re right if you dare to go near the brownies before Natalie gets here. But maybe you’re feeling lucky.” She shrugged. “Your loss if you want to test me.”
“Viktoriya won’t let you,” Dima said.
“I think you mean Harper, but I’m not afraid of a two-year-old getting in my way. Viktoriya knows well enough to leave me to my own devices.”
“Aren’t you the one always protecting Tori and not the other way around, anyway?” Tallie shouted from the other room. “You might just hope she’d protect you.”
“My wife’s not going to protect anyone’s balls but mine,” Razor put in, just as Harper Fielding rushed in from the backyard and tugged on Dima’s hand.
“Up!” she demanded.
And of course, he immediately picked her up. And she then proceeded to tug on his beard and giggle like the lunatic toddler she was.
“I want a ball!” she demanded, which led to all the guys snort-laughing except Dima, who calmly rolled his eyes and waltzed into the kitchen, sniffing the pan of brownies as if to test his wife.
London brandished a plastic knife in his direction, wheeling toward him with one hand.
I tried not to burst out laughing at those two, but it wasn’t easy. They had the most contentious relationship, but somehow it worked for them.
But now it was time for me to go. I had to stop at the airport for Carter before going to the hospital. I shuffled toward the front door, eyeing all of my teammates still hard at work preparing my house for her. A few of the guys had started moving my living room furniture off the rug so they could roll it up and get it out of the way, and I could hear the sounds of others in the bathroom installing a detachable shower head and putting together a shower chair.
A little over two years ago, we’d been a huge band of misfits. Yeah, we were all NHL-caliber hockey players, but we weren’t exactly a team in the truest sense of the word. But now, everything was starting to come together.
At least off the ice. On the ice, we were still struggling to find our identity and the way we fit together.
But if we could keep working together like this, we’d get there.