Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(85)

“Look, I’ve got some news,” he says suddenly.

“Yeah?” The elevator rises.

“I decided not to renew after this year.”

“Renew…?” A magazine subscription? I try to figure out what he means, and I come up blank.

“My contract. I’m retiring at the end of the season. They’re going to announce it in the next couple weeks. But I wanted to tell you first.”

“Why?” I blurt, and it comes out sounding rude. “I mean, why retire?”

“Everyone retires eventually,” he says. “A year ago the idea gave me the cold sweats. Hockey was literally my entire life. Well, hockey and my sister. That’s all I had.”

“Uh huh. Not like there’s anything wrong with that.”

He gives me a quick smile. “Not until it ends.”

“But it doesn’t have to end for you.” He was injured at the end of last season. But he seems perfectly heathy now.

“Yeah, but I want to pick the date,” he says. “This way it’s my choice. And now I have a family who needs me, so…” He shrugs.

An actual shrug! Like this isn’t the biggest decision he’ll ever make. “So…” I try to wrap my brain around this development. “You’re moving to Vermont?” That’s where his girlfriend and his baby live.

“That’s the plan.” He smiles, and I kind of want to smack him. We have the best job in the whole goddamn world. And you do not just walk away from that lightly.

“Okay,” I say. “Thanks for telling me.”

The elevator opens on the third floor, and we both get out. “Later, man,” he says, heading toward the rear of the building.

“Yeah. See you.” I turn in the opposite direction, feeling strangely angry.

Dave is quitting hockey? He’s thirty-two. Younger than me, and healthy. I’d give anything to be as healthy as he is right now. And he’s just going to throw it away?

I’m so distracted that I almost don’t notice the music emanating from behind the apartment door. But just as I’m ready to swipe my key card, I realize that the pulsing beat is coming from inside.

I actually check the apartment number, just to make sure I’m not standing in front of the wrong door. But no, it’s mine. I have an intruder. And he’s blasting Panic at The Disco on my speaker system.

Can’t I get through one day without some kind of bonkers security issue?

I set my gym bag down on the floor. Then I get out my key card and cross my hands on the door handle. I swipe and then unlatch as quickly as possible, throwing open the door and scanning the big room.

Not like it’s hard, though. My cousin Anton is perched in the center of my coffee table. And he’s dancing to “Hey Look Ma I Made It.”

What the fuck?

I grab my bag out of the hall and shut the door. “Hey! Anton!” I call.

He can’t hear me. He’s busy gyrating in the other direction.

I put two fingers in my mouth and whistle.

That does the trick. Anton finally hears me. His body jerks around toward the door.

Then he falls off the coffee table, landing half on my pull-out couch and half on the floor. “Ouch, fuck! Cousin Eric!” the younger man yells. “You are not going to believe where I just got traded!” He beams at me like he’s just won the lottery.

And maybe he has. “Is it Brooklyn?” I ask cautiously. He is wearing a purple shirt, and in my apartment no less.

“Dude! You’re a genius! This is so rad. We’re gonna be teammates now!”

“No way!” No fucking way. I make my way over to the speakers and turn the music down, like the old fart I’ve become.

“I just got the call this morning!” he babbles. “After I called my dad, I called yours! And then I got on a plane.”

“That’s amazing, man.” I clear my throat. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, how did you get into my apartment?”

“Uncle Carl sent me!” he says cheerfully. “He called you first, but you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh. Well, I was at the—”

“I didn’t even have to spend a single night in the hotel!” Anton yawps. “Your dad says I can crash here, because you’re not supposed to climb into that loft bed right now. Bummer about your injury dude!”

“Thanks,” I grunt.

“Carl didn’t think you’d mind if I stayed a couple of weeks.”

Weeks? “Well, it’s a studio, though. Plus that loft,” I say, trying to find the right words to express my horror.

I’m sure my young cousin is a great guy. But a couple of weeks with a twenty-two-year-old roommate sounds hellish. I’ve watched rookies settling in before. Hell, I’ve been that rookie. You just got promoted from the minors to the big leagues. It’s time to celebrate. I’ve arrived, New York! Hear me roar.

I wonder how quickly we can find this kid his own apartment.

“It’s gonna be epic!” He climbs off the floor. “I need you to introduce me around.”

“Okay, sure.” I agree. “We’ll go to the Tavern on Hicks. The guys are always there. When do you have to sign paperwork?” Please say right now.