O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

FOSTER

“ L ook at her cheeks!”

I do as I’m told and look at the picture on Will’s phone of his newborn niece, focusing on the infant’s cheeks. They’re chubby like she’s storing nuts for the winter. Her eyes are closed and her hairless head seems to be a bit misshaped. Is that normal? I don’t know shit about babies.

“She’s beautiful, man,” I tell him because I know it’s what he wants to hear. We’re in our seats, awaiting take off, on our way to Tampa.

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t planning on going home until Christmas, but I might try to sneak in a quick trip.” Will’s from a huge African Nova Scotian family. When I say huge, I just don’t mean in numbers. He’s got five siblings, all over six feet tall—even his sisters—and at six-foot-five, he’s the biggest guy on our team. When they come up for games, all proudly wearing their Oliver jerseys, they completely take over the friends and family box.

I wonder what that’s like; playing knowing that you’ve got loved ones in the stands, cheering you on .

“The offer still stands, by the way,” he adds, still staring at his phone. “You’re welcome to spend Christmas with my family this year.”

A nod is my only reply. He’s made this offer several times and I’ve never taken him up on it. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. Will Oliver is the undisputed gentle giant of the team. He loves to take care of us and I understand that he hates knowing I spend every holiday alone. But I’d much prefer to be on my own than spend Christmas being reminded of what I don’t have.

“I hear you got yourself a new roommate, Fozzie Bear.” Austin grins at me from the row ahead, kneeling on his seat to face us. His blond hair, long on top and buzzed on the sides, brushes against the cabin’s ceiling as he leans in, as he awaits my response.

This gets Will’s attention. He looks up from the pictures of his niece and stares at me. “You have a what?”

“As of yesterday, he’s shacking up with Ben’s sister.”

I glare at him. “We are not shacking up . Beth’s housing fell through and she’s staying with me until she finds a new place.”

Will brightens next to me. “Beth’s here? I like that girl. She’s such a sweetheart.”

“You like everyone,” I say dryly. Will’s people skills far exceed my own. Where I get awkward around people I don’t know, he becomes fast friends with everyone he meets. But I like Beth, too. She’s easy to talk to and even easier to be around.

Not hard to look at either, but that’s completely beside the point.

“Well, I still think I should have gotten her at the airport,” Austin says as he stretches his back against the ceiling of the plane. “Teachers are so hot, with their hair pulled back in those tight buns and their glasses.”

“She doesn’t even wear glasses.” My tone is clipped. He’s annoying me even more than usual lately, which is saying something.

“I bet she would for me, if I asked nicely.” He winks at me before sitting down, leaving me scowling at the back of his seat.

“That’s really great of you to let her stay,” Will says sincerely.

“It’s not a big deal.”

It’s really not. Beth needs a place to stay and I’ve got lots of room. Ben and Will are the closest thing I have to family. I’d have done the same for any of their siblings.

I know that being alone for the first time in a new city is hard and she has already had a rough start. If I can do anything to make things easier for her, I will.

Since we don’t seem to be taking off anytime soon, I decide to message Beth just to check in. We exchanged phone numbers in case she needs to get ahold of me, but I want to make sure she’s got everything she needs.

Foster: Settling in okay?

The three dots appear almost immediately.

Beth: Yes

Huh. Her short response doesn’t convince me.

Foster: You sure ?

There’s a longer pause and I wonder if maybe she’s in the middle of something and I’m interrupting.

Beth: I can’t turn on your tv

I laugh out loud, causing Will to look over at me.

Beth: You have too many remotes

Foster: I have exactly the right number of remotes

Realising I should have given her a tutorial before I left, I type out what each is used for.

Foster: Short black one = tv

Foster: Long black one = stereo

Foster: Blue one = fireplace

I stare at my phone, eagerly awaiting her response.

Beth: What’s the chrome one do?

Foster: Nothing.

Beth: ??

Foster: It was for my old stereo system. When I upgraded I kept it

Beth: Why?

Foster: Because it’s shiny and looks cool.

Beth: Wow.

The flight attendants have started their safety spiel and I tuck my phone away with a smile on my face.

I’m on my way back to my hotel room the next day when I hear from Beth again. We had a team skate this morning after which I met with my coaches to talk strategy. I’ve just finished lunch and am going to have a nap before we head to the arena.

Beth: Hi! Sorry to bother you but do you have an iron?

I tuck my water bottle under my arm as I type my response.

Foster: Yeah. Closet at the end of the hall on the left

Beth: Thank you!

I’ve just closed the door to my suite when my phone lights up again.

Beth: Why do you have so many bottles of pineapple coconut foaming hand soap?

Foster: Because it’s the best scent.

Beth: lol

I picture her standing in my hallway laughing at my soap supply.

Beth: You have thirty-two bottles of it!

Laying down on top of the covers, I decide to lean into it.

Foster: Only thirty-two? I need to restock.

Beth: You’re weird

Foster: Thanks

I close my eyes and start the pregame breathing exercises I do before every game.

The phone buzzes again, but I don’t check it immediately. When the second text comes in, I give in and reach for it.

Beth: omg I just used it and it’s amazing

Beth: It’s like washing your hands in a pina colada!

Foster: Told you so

I set the phone aside again, grinning. Having a roommate isn’t half-bad.

My ears are still ringing from the sound of outraged Panthers fans on my ride to the airport late that night. We stomped the home team three to nil, ending the losing streak in the most satisfying way.

I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than quiet as I decompress from the game, but I’m far from alone on a bus full of guys, unfortunately.

“Dude,” Ben says from his seat beside me.

“What?” My eyelids remain closed.

“Did you see Valentina’s Instagram?”

I’m not on Instagram or any other social media platform for that matter. He knows this.

When I don’t reply, he nudges me and I begrudgingly turn my head and look at him. On his phone is a post of who I have to assume is his girlfriend. Only her eyes and the top of her head are visible, the rest of her is obscured by a massive bouquet of red roses.

“She used the hashtags ‘best boyfriend ever,’ ‘keeper,’ and ‘couple goals.’ Am I nailing this relationship or what?”

“That’s great,” I say without feeling and Ben’s eyes flash to mine.

“What?”

“Nothing, man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy if you’re happy. I just have never seen you with the same girl twice. Seems kind of sudden is all.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks before his lopsided grin returns. “I’m just ready to settle down, is all, and when you know, you know.”

“That’s great,” I say again, with more conviction this time. “Tell me about her.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? ”

I thought the question was self-explanatory, but I elaborate further. “I mean, what’s she like? Funny? Smart? Sweet?” Why am I spoon-feeding him personality characteristics?

“Ohh. I gotcha. She’s smart, I guess. Really cultured and career focused. And, like, so hot, obviously.” He doesn’t continue.

Right.

“Cool,” is all I can think to say, but it seems to work because he happily goes back to his phone.

It’s not like I was expecting him to come up with a sonnet on why she’s the one, but I was expecting more of an endorsement for the woman he’s claimed he’ll marry.

As someone who’s spent most of their life solely focused on hockey, marriage is something I’ve never given much thought to. I’m not opposed to having a family, I just have a hard time imagining myself with one. Most of the women I’ve met since signing with the Otters seem more interested in my bank account than in actually getting to know me.

I check my own phone and see I have a new text from Beth.

Beth: Nice game! You didn’t let any pucks in! Good job!

Man, she is such a teacher. I type a quick response.

Foster: Thanks. It’s called a shutout

Her response comes in moments later.

Beth: It’s got a special name? That’s so neat!

I frown at the phone, surprised that she doesn’t know basic terminology with a brother who plays professionally.

Beth: I’m screwing with you, btw. I know what a shutout is.

I snort with laughter before responding.

Foster: Oh, thank god.

“Who are you texting?” Ben asks, craning his neck to get a glimpse of my screen.

“My trainer,” I lie, quickly putting my phone in my pocket.

I’m not sure why I lied. Okay, that’s another lie. A lie on top of a lie.

I figured if I told Ben I was talking to his sister, he’d act like himself and overreact. We’re just texting. She’s staying at my house and we’re keeping in touch. That’s all that’s happening and all that’s going to be happening.

But even as I tell myself that, I can’t deny that when I used the terms “funny, smart, and sweet” earlier, Beth’s face was the one that came to mind.