Page 57 of Home Game

Except, as I soon found out, it’s almost impossible to do any of it with one arm.

A light knock on the door. Mica stuck his head in. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to decorate this room.” I waved the hammer around. “But failing.”

“Let me help,” he walked in.

Mica was nice. He reminded me of a big teddy bear. Less fluff and more muscles, but gentle and soft.

“Can you hang curtain rods?”

“Are youkidding? That was my professional job before I became a hockey player.”

We worked together.

“So how did you meet Ryan?” he asked, casually.

“In a coffee shop.”

“Now you guys live together? Are you his roommate?”

I decided it would only benefit Ryan if I was frank. “I’m homeless.”

Shock. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t have a home. I got hurt and Ryan offered for me to stay here until my arm gets better.”

“For real?”

I turned back to setting up the picture frames on the dresser. “Why doesn’t the team like Ryan?”

He cleared his throat. I gave him a pointed look over my shoulder.

“Last season he checked one of our players, Noah Moore, against the board and Noah got hurt real bad. Noah still hasn’t come back to the game and probably won't.”

Coldness settled into my stomach. “Did Ryan get in trouble?”

“It was a clean hit. Ryan didn’t even get a penalty.”

My breath punched out of me. “It was an accident?”

“It wasn’t a dirty hit, if that is what you are asking.”

“And now this team doesn’t like him because of that?”

Mica’s ears turned red. “He ended Noah’s career.”

“Did Ryan choose to move here and play on this team?”

He shrugged. “This might be the last place he would have picked.”

“That’s not fair you guys all hate him because of a mistake.” I gave Mica a look.

He lifted his hands. “I know.”

“What does he need to do?”

He looked thoughtful. “When Ryan wins Jensen over, this will blow over.”

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