Page 21 of Finders Keepers
Nate stepped toward the night stand and handed him his cell.
Wesley turned it over and poked at the screen. “Ugh. It died. That’s why. Charging it hadn’t even crossed my mind. Thorry I worried you.” He lifted a shoulder, a sheepish expression crossing his now plum-colored flesh.
Nate raked both hands through his hair and shook his head. “It’s fine.”Way to go playing it cool.“Your brain’s been fuzzy from the bashing it took. Been there a couple of times, so I get it. As long as you’re all right.”
“As all right as I can be. I take it you’re done with your hockey thtuff, and we can head to my house.” With slow, careful movements, Wesley slid his legs over the side of the bed and inched toward the edge.
A muttered complaint reached Nate’s ears when Wesley’s feet made contact with the floor. Nate had experienced that feeling before as well. He’d taken a handful of too-aggressive checks into the boards over the years.
“Why don’t you shower while I make lunch, then we can head out.”
* * * * *
Nate pointed the key fob at his “iced mocha” Navigator. Man, he loved this car. The color, the luxuries—he loved the whole package. Nate braced Wesley’s arm as the man gingerly settled himself into the passenger seat, wincing as he maneuvered the seatbelt across his chest. Nate jogged around to the driver’s side.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a really good local mechanic, would you?” he asked, climbing into his seat and pushing the start button. The engine revved to life.
“Is there something wrong with it?” Wesley asked, wincing as he attempted to reach across his body and secure his seatbelt.
“No, but I want one in my back pocket. I love this car, and I want someone who’s gonna look past my salary and be honest about its condition.” Nate buckled himself in.
“Thanks,” said Wesley. “And no, I don’t know a local mechanic. I can ask around the school once I’m back at work.”
Nate nodded. “Much appreciated. Which way?”
“Highway 75 south, also known as 480. We’ll stay on that for a good twenty, twenty-five minutes. Then exit Webster Road.”
Within ten minutes, they were at cruising speed and headed south.
“We talked mostly about my teaching career over lunch. You didn’t tell me how your morning went. Did you get all your fittings done or whatever?”
“I did. Tried on my interim mask and pads. Freddie, the head equipment manager, took note of all my preferences as though I was royalty. We talked for, like, forty-five minutes and all the while he keyed everything in to a database that all the equipment guys use.” Excitement bubbled up in his chest again as he talked.
“Fancy. But why interim? What will happen to them?”
Nate glanced at Wesley. His head rested on the seat, but he rolled it in Nate’s direction.
“Custom masks and pads take time. They might be ready in time for the pre-season, but I couldn’t take that chance, so I got some plain gear in the team colors.” He’d left his Lumberjacks gear in Portland when he’d left. His trade wasn’t mid-season, so he hadn’t needed to haul it halfway across the country. Part of him wished he had all those dark red and green pieces now so he could toss them in a dumpster and set them on fire. “Once the custom stuff comes in, the interim gear becomes my backup gear.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
“After I was done with Freddie, a very charming little old Black man named Tyrone showed me my stalls, both in the practice rink and in the main arena. Nice and roomy, a little larger than standard to hold all the extra gear goalies have.”
Wesley glanced at him and Nate saw the smile. “You look and sound a lot happier than you did that first night at the club.”
“Well, yeah. My feelings about this trade have done a one-eighty. At first, I was pissed. I was so damned pissed. They wouldn’t have the Cup without me and a few lucky calls and bounces. But now—what I’ve seen so far of the facilities, this organization should be the gold-standard for every team in the league.”
“Really? They’re that awesome?”
“And then some.” Nate laughed, exhilaration filling him. “I can’t even tell you.”
“I’m really happy for you, Nate. I remember how dejected and sullen you seemed when we first met.” Wesley’s voice went soft, quiet.
Nate found the shift in his mindset pretty wild as well.
“Why’d they trade you anyway?”
“You don’t know?”
