Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 49239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Cam: I’m covering someone’s shift from 5-7 because dryer repair money. I didn’t love wearing wet jeans to work today.
I text back to tell her I saw the message. I don’t want to hit her with the overflowing toilet news by text. I’m sure she’ll be hearing I “touched poop” within ten seconds of walking in the door later.
“Hey, I’m Beck.”
“I’m Sam.”
“We both like sausage and pepperoni pizza; that’s pretty cool.”
Cam looks at me from the kitchen, her brows pinched together. “What is happening right now? I get home from work and half of a pro hockey team is eating pizza with my family.”
“It’s not half,” I tell her, grabbing another slice of pepperoni. “There are four guys here, including Dom.”
As I say his name, Dom comes walking down the stairs, a garbage bag full of wet towels in hand.
“Looks good up there. Thanks, guys.”
I still can’t believe what he did. Not only did he return from the neighbors’ houses with around a dozen old towels, he called several teammates, who brought everything else he needed and helped him with the cleanup.
Ben and Sergei showed up with two wet/dry vacs and more towels, and Beck arrived a few minutes ago with a commercial-grade fan and eight pizzas.
Ben and Sergei cleaned up the bathroom while Dom and Zane finished installing the new storm door. I just sat back and watched, stunned by all the help.
“You brought Oliver’s? Hell yeah,” Dom says as he opens a pizza box. “I’m starving.”
Zane comes up from the basement and Dom passes him a plate. “Dig in, man. This pizza’s the best.”
“Smells good. I’m starving.”
Cam and I exchange a look. This is all feeling surreal. The only people who ever come over are the kids’ friends. It’s been a long time since there was a man in our house, and now there are four. Eating pizza and chatting with the kids.
At least I had time to take down the laundry and makeshift clotheslines. It’s still a tight fit, though, having nine people in our small kitchen and living room. Hannah took her pizza to her room.
“I’ll have my dog sitter wash and dry all the towels and I’ll bring ’em back to you,” Dom tells me.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“You don’t have a working dryer. You need me to take some of your laundry, too?”
“Yes!” Tate says from the couch. “I’ve been wearing the same underwear for two days.”
I give him a look. “I had your underwear hanging up to dry, dude.” I look at Dom. “No, you don’t need to take our laundry.”
“You sure? It’s no problem.”
“No.” I lower my brows. “I mean, yes, I’m sure.”
“I’m leaving for a road trip tomorrow, but when I get back, Zane and I will fix the dryer.”
Next to me, Cam makes a noise that sounds a lot like a swoon. I shake my head.
“No, seriously.”
He grins. “You need a working dryer. It’s no problem.”
“You don’t even know what’s wrong with it.”
He reaches for another piece of pizza. “I’m pretty sure it’s a bad heating element. I looked at it when I finished the door.”
This is starting to feel like a hidden camera show. I’ve gone from troubleshooting home repairs on Google with my sister to having a hot hockey player at my home repair disposal.
“Can we talk outside?” I ask Dom.
“Dom’s in trouble!” Beck says.
I lead Dom out the back door, which opens onto our tiny, cracked concrete patio.
“What’s up?” he asks, still eating pizza.
“I’m not sleeping with you in exchange for dryer repairs and a storm door.”
He laughs. “I don’t remember asking you to.”
“Why else would you do any of this?”
He shrugs. “Because I can. And I want to.”
“I just...” I look away, trying to think of a good argument. “I don’t get how someone who knows nothing about cars can diagnose a bad heating element on a dryer.”
“It’s two totally different things. My dad’s a building contractor. I can do pretty much any home repair or building project. He doesn’t work on his own cars, though, so I never learned anything.”
I don’t know what to say to that. He clears his throat and says, “Look, this is a way for Zane to get in his hours working for me and learn a few things, too. We’ve got people at the arena who spray down hockey gloves and sweep the floors.”
I groan inwardly at his reminder that this was all my idea. I’m the one who insisted Zane do jobs for Dom, and now I’m complaining about the jobs Dom’s choosing.
“I just...” I cross my arms, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t want Zane to get attached to you. His dad has been out of our lives for a while now, and on the rare occasions he says he’ll show up for the kids, he usually doesn’t.”