Across the Line (In The Zone) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

For the entire month of August, Calder kept up his self-imposed regimen—train hard, eat smart, sleep, repeat. He was at Power Play five days out of seven and saw Becca whenever their schedules cooperated. He kept telling her to hire a couple more people so she could get away more often and she kept insisting she couldn’t afford it. It bothered him that he had plenty of money and would be more than willing to subsidize her business, but he knew she’d never allow that. He really didn’t blame her. He understood her need to make her own way, but he didn’t like it. At least she let him pay her airfare.

After Hart’s trade became official, their mom got on Calder’s back to help Hart out, show him the town, introduce him to the guys. Not for the first time in his life, he flat-out lied to his mother when he said he would. He had neither the desire nor the intention to roll out the welcome wagon for his brother. First of all, Hart was a big boy and had weathered trades on his own before. Secondly, the Barracudas had someone whose job it was to smooth the transition for new players, both rookie and veteran. What was the point of volunteering for a job that was going to get done anyway by someone getting paid for it?

Besides, it turned out that Hart loved the apartment Tim and Erin were leaving behind and moved in the day after they moved out. He got his official team photo taken, his new uniforms, met with the equipment guys to talk about his needs, got his stall all labeled and everything—all without Calder. But Calder didn’t tell his mom that. She’d just shake her finger at him anyway and find something else he didn’t need to do.

Unfortunately, she did that anyway only a few days before training camp. He came home after working out at Power Play to an express delivery from her. Last time she’d sent something, it had been a copy of a local weekly with a very complimentary review of Cups.

Oddly, today there were two boxes, one with Hart’s name on it, but Calder’s address. Taking the box meant for him, he slit the tape with a knife. Inside he found a note and an interesting assortment of stuff.

Dear Calder,

It’s been a while since I sent you a care package, so here are some goodies for you.

Calder sighed at the sight of homemade chocolate chip cookies. Damn it. Cookies were still verboten. Training camp loomed and he wasn’t about to fall off the wagon now. He’d bring them to camp and give them to the staff.

Well, all but one.

There’s some underwear too. I noticed last time you were here yours were looking ragged. I meant to send you some a while ago, but forgot.

He chuckled as he checked the size. Right on the money. He also found a can of air freshener she’d marked, “Apply liberally to hockey bag,” and a book,
How to Survive and Flourish in Your Long-Distance Relationship.

The book needs no explanation. Just in case you were wondering, your dad and I think Becca is wonderful. Mixed-race babies are always so beautiful! (See page 254) I’m just sayin’...

He flipped through the book. Some of the ideas were really dumb. Going on a virtual vacation together where you both looked at photos of a mutually agreed-upon destination. Fuck that. He’d take Becca on a real vacation when the season was over. Somewhere she’d need to wear a bathing suit.

The book then fell open to page 254 on its own. It suggested he “make a baby!” by visiting a website that morphed two pictures together to show what their child might look like. Nestled there amongst the pages was a laser-printed photo of a kid. A little girl, about five years old. She had Becca’s gorgeous Chinese eyes and heart-shaped face, and his chin and eyebrows.

Now he saw where his mom got her idea about mixed-race babies. He had to admit the computer-generated girl was a cute little thing.

Please make sure Hart gets his package. I didn’t have his new address. I love you. Mom.

His mom was nothing if not efficient. With one package she’d clothed and fed him, nudged about grandchildren and pushed him to make nice with his brother. But bullshit, she didn’t have Hart’s address. She could easily have called Hart to get it. She sure as shit had his phone number. The woman was just angling for a way to get the brothers to interact.

His phone rang. It was Becca.

He grinned. The contact photo he’d assigned to her on his cell phone was of her in that vampy red dress with his hockey stick resting on her shoulder. So damn fucking sexy.

“Hey, you,” he said.

“Hi, handsome. I’m waiting for my flight to be called.”

“You’ll never guess what I found on my doorstep when I got home.”

“The newspaper.”

He laughed. “No.”

“A baby?”

“Hell no.” But his mind went to the fake little girl his mom had concocted.

“What?”

“A care package from my mom.”

He told her about what she’d sent, but not about the virtual baby.

“Your mom is so sweet. Your dad too. I think I got some of that same batch of cookies. Hey, can I go with you when you deliver Hart’s package? Oliver and Savannah asked if I could get him to sign Oliver’s jersey and I’d like to meet him.”

He thought briefly about pasting a new address label on the box or handing it off to the receptionist at Hart’s building, but didn’t want to look like a jerk in front of Becca. He had to also admit a tiny part of him wanted Hart to see what an awesome girlfriend he’d nabbed.

Later that evening, Calder and Becca rode the elevator to Hart’s new apartment. He had the box from his mom tucked under his arm. Becca had picked up a potted plant at a nearby grocery store as a housewarming gift even though Calder had told her it wasn’t necessary.

Hart opened the door, wearing shorts and a polo. He’d shaved and his hair looked perfect, as usual. It reminded Calder he needed to get a trim.

“Hey,” Hart said.

Calder returned the greeting. “Hart, this is Becca,” Calder said. “Becks, my brother, Hart.”

“So glad to meet you,” she said, tucking the plant against her as Hart took her hand and pulled her in for a cheek kiss.

“Really glad to meet you too. Come in.”

Calder let Becca go first. Once inside, he gave the place the once-over. Nice marble floors, amazing view, quite a few boxes, some art propped up against blank walls.

“Sorry about the mess. We’re still settling in,” Hart said, walking toward the living room.

We?
WTF?
Hart had a girlfriend? Why hadn’t his mom mentioned this? He wondered if Hart had gotten a morphed baby picture in
his
box.

Just as Calder was about to ask who the mystery significant other was, a guy walked in.

“Hey, guys,” Hart said. “This is my roommate, Jeremy Fenton. Jeremy, my brother, Calder, and his girlfriend, Becca.”

Jeremy was a little more casual than Hart in gray shorts, a T-shirt and boat shoes. He had short blond hair, looked like he was in good shape and he had a firm grip.

Becca gave them the plant, which they seemed to like. Calder held out the box from Jenny. “Here’s that stuff from Mom.”

“I’ll put it in the office,” Jeremy said, taking it.

Hart nodded. “Good idea.”

“You’re not going to open it?” Calder asked. He’d been curious to know what was inside.

“Later,” Hart said. “After dinner. You guys are staying for dinner, aren’t you? I got some chicken and shrimp, some veggies to grill...”

Becca lit up. “That sounds great. I can help cook, if you want.”

“That’s right,” Hart said, walking toward the kitchen. “Mom told me you’re a chef. Jeremy’s a foodie. You two can knock yourselves out. Calder and I’ll just supervise. Beer okay for everyone?”

Calder nodded. So did Becca. He should be drinking water, but he figured he deserved a little reward for spending the evening with his brother.

Jeremy and Becca got started peeling the shrimp. “I know Hart plays hockey. What do you do, Jeremy?” she asked.

“I’m a teacher. Art history.”

“Here in San Diego?” she asked, tossing the shrimp she’d just peeled and cleaned into the colander.

“Right now, yes,” he said. “I teach online. Thanks.” Hart had just put a beer on the counter next to him. One for Becca on her side of the sink too.

As Becca and Jeremy chatted about art, a subject Calder wasn’t at all interested in, he nodded at Hart. “So, when you said ‘we’ before, I thought you’d moved in with someone.”

Hart shrugged. “I did.”

“I meant a girl,” Calder said. “I was hoping you could distract Mom from focusing on me and Becca.”

Hart laughed and took a swig of his beer. “She bugging you?”

Calder jerked his head toward the living room and the two of them wandered that way. When they were out of earshot of the other two, Calder told him about the fake baby picture.

Hart laughed harder. “Better you than me,” he said, raising his bottle in a salute.

“Fuck you, DB.”

They sat on the black leather sofa, both leaning back in their respective corners and resting their ankles on their knees.

“So did you and Jeremy live together in Seattle? Is that where he’s from?”

“Yeah. About a year ago, he needed a place. Things didn’t work out with his roommate.”

Calder nodded, remembering roommates he hadn’t gotten along with.

“Anyway, when I got traded, since Jeremy can do his job anywhere, we decided not to mess with a good thing. San Diego’s a helluva lot sunnier than Seattle. It’s going to be a nice change for both of us.”

“It’s actually cloudy a lot in the mornings, but you’ll definitely get a lot less rain.”

“What about you?” Hart inclined his head toward the kitchen. “How long have you been dating Becca?”

“Since the beginning of summer. Met her on the plane on the way to visit Mom.”

“Yeah, Mom told me she owns Cups. That place rocks. Dinner’s going to be awesome.” He tipped his bottle back and swallowed. “So, beginning of summer. That’s a pretty long time. You serious?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Calder shrugged, unwilling to be too forthcoming.

“Does she like hockey?”

“Loves it.”

“Done deal then,” Hart said.

“I wish it were that easy. There’s that little matter of her living in Ithaca and me living here.”

Hart waved his hand toward the kitchen where they could hear Jeremy and Becca laughing about something. “Looks like you’re dealing with it. Maybe she could open a Cups here. There’s probably some trendy little part of San Diego that’s ripe for her kind of place.”

“Oh, there are definitely lots of places. San Marco. Oceanside. Maybe La Jolla. But she’s not looking to expand right now.” He sat up and leaned closer. “I’ve been trying to convince her to let me invest so she could afford to open something here, but she’s adamant about doing it herself.”

“Just keep trying. I’ll get Jeremy to work on her a little. He loves her food too.”

“He’s been to Cups?” Calder was surprised.

“Yeah. You know I have that place on the lake. He came with me for a week last year. Some of the guys from juniors, a couple of the Rangers stayed for a couple days. Good times. Anyway, on the way home, we swung by to see Mom and Dad. Jeremy wanted to see the Commons...” He shrugged.

At the mention of the Rangers, Calder asked after a couple of friends in the league. Then they got to debating the rule changes the NHL had recently implemented. Hybrid icing. Mandatory visors for incoming players. They got into a heated argument about the visors. Hart believed it should be up to the player. Calder thought it made sense that the coaches wanted to reduce the amount of injuries so their players could play as many minutes as possible.

“They’re paying me a lot of money to play,” Hart said, “and visors make it harder to see. I tried one once and it kept fogging up.”

“Well, if you get a puck in the face, or a stick or a skate, you won’t be able to see at all,” Calder said. “It’s just common sense.”

“I’ve been doing fine so far,” Hart said.

“It’s only a matter of time. It sucks to be sidelined by an injury and I speak from recent experience. Why take the chance?”

Hart shrugged. “Hey, you could have avoided that injury altogether if you’d just kept to the inside of the—”

“Oh, here we go. Do please tell me with your 20-20 hindsight what I should have done.”

Hart shook his head. “I would, but you know what? It wouldn’t do any good. You never listen.”

“You’re wrong. I listen. I listen to my coaches. I listen to my trainers. I just don’t want to listen to you, and you can’t stand that.”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

Calder looked up to see Jeremy and Becca standing there. He took a swig of beer. “We’re just discussing the efficacy of the new visor rule.”

“Big word,” Hart said.

Calder speared his big brother with a look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Becca said with a glance at Jeremy. “We’re going to go into the kitchen now and enjoy the appetizers that Jeremy and I whipped up.”

“What did you make?” Hart asked.

“Antipasto Lettuce Cups.”

Weeks ago, Calder tried to help her develop some new recipes, but most of the ideas he texted her weren’t serious—the PB&J Lettuce Cup, the Lima Bean Lettuce Cup, the Mac and Cheese Lettuce Cup. But when he’d thrown out a bologna idea, she took it and ran with it. Renaming it the Antipasto Lettuce Cup, she included everything from an ordinary antipasto platter—mortadella, Genoa salami, pepperoncini, marinated mushrooms, provolone, olives, some good olive oil, and mini croutons for crunch. It had been a hit at Cups.

“Luckily, these guys had everything I needed to make it.”

“That’s all Jeremy,” Hart said, rising. “He’s the cook here. And that sounds great. I love antipasto. Anything Italian, actually.”

“It’s Calder’s recipe. He gave me the idea. It’s sort of an Italian salad, inside out.”

Calder couldn’t resist a smirk.
In your face
,
bro.
But when he caught Becca’s disapproving frown, he wiped it away. “She liked one of my soup ideas too. The Surf and Turf Soup, a new recipe she’s working on, was my idea too.”

“You don’t cook,” Hart said.

“True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have ideas. We were talking one day about favorite meals and I mentioned steak and lobster and a big all-the-fixings baked potato. Oh, and a beer to chase it down.”