Kaleb

This party sucks.

Okay, I'm lying. The food is great and the booze is, too. And everyone, including the partners and kids, have been welcoming.

My perception is problematic because I miss Melody. Watching Brenna and Shea act all lovey-dovey and seeing kids run around is making me homesick. As much as I want to leave the party and call her, I can't. Montréal is three hours ahead of Vancouver. She'll be asleep by now.

Taking a sip of my beer, I sit on the bench in the hallway, away from the crowd. The main rooms are full. People have congregated in the kitchen, and voices and laughter echo through the hallways, reverberate between the walls. Kids' feet thump against the floors upstairs, in the bonus space where Brenna and Shea are starting to put together a nursery. It's a partially empty room with a working TV and a couch. The walls have been painted a soft grey, though, and I've seen the plans.

There's another loud thump. My bets are placed on loud cartoons and jumping on the couch as the noise source up there. Kids are ruthless.

"You look like a fucking loner, Jones"

Shea sits down beside me, and I look at him. Although he looks exhausted, my attention is focused elsewhere. There's a crease between his brows and his jaw is set. His grip around the bottle of beer is tense, showing off his white knuckles.

"What's bothering you?" I ask, poking Shea in the ribs.

He grumbles something incoherent.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Ella's hanging out with Mikael."

I cock an eyebrow. "So?"

Out of anyone in this room, people would assume I'm the one suffering from lingering relationship jealousy. Ella is my ex. We were an on-and-off couple throughout middle school and high school. That would make the most sense—even if it's obvious Ella and I are just friends now.

Yet here Shea Smith is, glaring down the hallway, steaming behind his hard-set jaw and wicked glare. Light reflects from the mirror across from us, adding a sharpening effect to his cheekbones and shadows beneath his eyes. He looks like someone you shouldn't mess with.

Following his gaze down the hallway, I see Ella and Mikael outside. Their bodies are blurry from the glass sliding door and the light reflecting. But their figures are easy to distinguish. Where Mikael is muscle and heigh, Ella is toned but willowy, a mix of grace and strength.

I take a sip of my beer, and then I pick at the label. "Why are you concerned?"

"Because I hate him," Shea replies. "He's exactly like Connor was. Just wait until the first road trip, KJ. He'll pick some woman up at the bar, they'll go to his hotel room and fuck, and then he'll boast at practice. Everything that comes from his mouth is toxic."

"Funny," I say. "I seem to recall another person who was like Connor. Not so much in the fucking department, but very much so in his shitty opinion about women."

He shoots me an unimpressed look. "Exactly. Being an asshole and then overcoming your ego makes you pick up on red flags."

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I rub my jaw. There's too much stubble. I still haven't shaved. While I like the character of my temporary apartment, everything feels chaotic. And if it's chaotic, I might as well look the part, too.

"Speaking of Connor, where is that asshole now?"

Shea shrugs. "Beats me. That man is a figment of my past. Don't care where he is or what he's doing. All I hope is that Karma has bitten him in the ass. He's not someone who visits my daily thoughts."

"Unless you're around Mikael."

My comment earns me another glare from Shea.

I clap him on the back. "Dude. Lighten up. People can change. Maybe Ella will knock some sense into Mikael. Maybe he'll fall in love like another somebody I know did."

Shea looks down at the beer in his hands. He's picking at the label, letting pieces flutter to the matte hardwood. A soft blush fills his cheeks, and he clears his throat. "There's just something about him. I have a bad feeling, KJ. Something's not right with Mikael."

While I can understand Shea's concern, I don't know why he's letting it get to him. "Don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

"Why are you defending him?" he asks.

I cock an eyebrow. "Because we don't know the details, Shea. As far as we know, he's a playboy. He's sleeping around with women based on a consensual approach. Unless you know something else?"

His gaze flicks back to the sliding glass door. "He could be lying."

"Do you have evidence? Has anyone said anything?"

He shakes his head. Then he takes a sip of his beer. "The only information I know is what he says in the locker room. But it doesn't feel right. My gut tells me something's up. And I trust my gut."

"He could be telling the truth. Do you think maybe you're reflecting your insecurities? Mikael and I are newer additions to the team. Do you feel threatened, Smith?"

There's no seriousness in my tone. I'm joking around, trying to make light of the situation. Truthfully, Shea's unease is making me uneasy. Whenever he has this gut feeling, he's usually right. I glance down the hallway.

Ella tosses her head back and laughs, giving Mikael's shoulder a squeeze. With my forearm resting on my thigh, and my back hunched, I take another sip of my beer, still staring. Nothing seems off about their body language—not that I can decipher it well from my current proximity. The reflection of the kitchen in the glass is prominent, warping my view. The limited view I'm seeing comes from the fairy lights outside.

Mikael smiles down at Ella, and they continue their conversation. There's no touching or flirting. He's standing a few inches away from her, too.

While Ella and I are done in the romance department, I do still love her. Like family. She's a good friend and a good person. Just like with Brenna and Shea, every fibre of my being strains to support and protect them when they need me.

Shea snorts, oblivious to my inner monologue. He adjusts his backwards ball cap. "Fuck no. I can skate circles around you, Jones. And don't get me started on your shitty slap-shot. I carry this fucking team."

We both laugh because we know that's not true. Shea embodies sportsmanship. It's strange he's not captain. Though, that decision hasn't been made yet. Our team captain retired. Coach is announcing the new one on opening night. There's a ceremony and everything for the fans to see. As of right now, the candidates include Shea, Alexei Reid, and Max Andreyev.

My bets are on Shea. If Coach doesn't make him captain, I'll start a riot. Shea was my captain through middle and high school. He was damn good at it.

I bump my shoulder against his. "I'm teasing. But if Mikael concerns you, keep an eye on him. I will, too. We learned our lesson about the bro code. It's toxic. When someone does something bad, you report them. To either solve conflict between teammates or to bring justice to people who have been affected. No beating around the problem and trying to find an easier route."

Shea leans back, his body pressing against the wall. "Thanks, man."

We lapse into silence for several seconds, sipping our beers and surveying the area. We're away from the party, but the echo is still loud. I wonder if Mel and I will have parties like these once we move in to our new house. It's across the street from Brenna and Shea's. Seeing it when I arrived tonight was strange. It was strange to think Wow, that's my house even though I'm not living in it yet.

Not having a stable living environment makes life feel chaotic. Hopefully, once Mel is here and we're settled, things will go back to normal. Although I have yet to play a game with the team, I feel comfortable with them.

Once Melody's here, everything will be better. It'll be just like high school again. All of us together. Melody didn't attend our high school, but that means nothing. The basic foundation of our group is back. At some point, we'll need to get Jayden, Catina, and Hunter out here for a reunion. Maybe when Brenna and Shea decide to announce their pregnancy.

I gesture to his lower extremities. "How's Little Shea?"

He chokes on his drink, setting the beer down on the hardwood floor and leaning over. I clap him on the back a few times, trying to help him. The coughing fit lasts for several seconds.

When Shea sits up, his face is a little red; he looks overwhelmed.

"Don't do that."

I blink several times. "Do what?"

Shea scowls. "You know what. Talk about my dick. That's just weird, man. You're not supposed to name someone's dick. Or your own. It's just wrong."

"Ah," I say, leaning back. My back is pressed against the wall, and I mimic Shea's pose. "No sperm babies yet."

"Doesn't matter," Shea shrugs. "If the reversal doesn't work, Brenna and I still have options. We want the reversal to work. If it doesn't, though, we're okay with that." He pauses, stooping down to pick up his beer. He takes a sip. "How's yours?"

I run a hand through my hair. My lips pull to one side. "I'm not a copycat."

Shea claps me on the back. "Yes, you are. But it's good you listened to me. Sex without condom is the best. The first night Brenna and I did it? Damn."

I know that's a lie, despite not needing a condom. The night of the draft, Brenna and Shea kept the whole floor awake until three A.M. My room was next to Shea's, and I could hear the headboard banging against the wall. Thank god their voices were muffled. Otherwise, they may have scarred me for life.

"Better than draft night?" I tease.

Shea chuckles. "Nothing compares to draft night." He side-eyes me. "Just like nothing compares to the concert, right?"

I grin at my reflection in the mirror. The night Melody and I met, we ended up in her hotel room after a drink at the bar. We were both sober, and we had a long discussion about what sex would mean. At first, there were no strings attached. We were two people looking for a good time. The sex was raw and electric, and I still remember the way she bit my collarbone when she came.

Then, when I woke up beside her in the morning, I knew it was different. Despite just meeting, the dynamics of our relationship changed.

There were strings attached. They were sutured to my fucking heart, and I knew Melody was the one.

"Concert night and draft night were the best," I nod. "Sometimes, I forget about the vasectomy. Mel and I used a condom the other day."

"Brenna and I did that, too," Shea admits. "You get caught up in the fire. The emotions and passion. With that level of intensity, not having a condom feels wrong. At first, anyway. So don't feel stupid for grabbing one."

Shea has a point.

I hold my beer out. "To useless condoms."

Grinning, he clinks his glass against mine. "To useless condoms."