Maverick and I stop for alcohol to restock for the weekend. When we get back to the apartment, we settle into the couch for our house meeting.

I’ve only lived here for a month and this is the second meeting Adam has called. It looks to be a long year. At least I have Mav for entertainment. He lives downstairs in a single apartment, but he spends way more time here than his own place.

His French bulldog, Charli, lies at his feet, staring up at him with adoring eyes. Charli is pretty much the only one who looks at Maverick like that. He’s a total jokester and softie, but his size and tattoos intimidate most people.

Adam and Rauthruss wander out of their respective rooms. Rauthruss grabs a wooden chair from the dining table and Adam takes a seat in our leather recliner. He eyes the bottle in Maverick’s hand. “Dude, really?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Mav tsks. “You can’t speak until you have the bottle. New house rule.” He hands it to Adam with a smirk. “Take a shot, captain, my captain.”

“You don’t even live here.” Adam takes a long swallow of the MD 20/20 anyway and grimaces. “That shit’s nasty. I haven’t had Mad Dog since high school.”

“Ironically, that’s the last time I got called to a family meeting, too,” Mav points out, taking the bottle back.

“Yeah, well feel free to leave since, again, you don’t live here, but this won’t take long. Three things.” He holds up his fingers like he’s talking to children. I glance over at Mav as he runs a hand along his tattooed chest where he’s spilled on himself and a trail of alcohol trickles down to his shorts. Okay, maybe we’re more like overgrown toddlers than functioning men. Maverick and I like to have fun, so sue us. We show up on the ice where it matters.

“Number one,” Adam goes right into it. “We looked like shit out there this week.”

Mav holds up a finger, takes a drink, and then speaks. “We’re not even on the ice yet. Give it time.”

Adam starts to respond, but not before Mav hands him the bottle and he begrudgingly takes another sip. “No, it’s my last year and I’m not taking any chances by waiting for ice time. I think we should invite the guys over.”

“Party. Good call,” I say and find the bottle thrust into my side.

As I’m taking a drink, Adam shakes his head. “No, not a party. Well, okay, a party, but no girls. Just the team.”

“You want us to spend our nights with a bunch of sweaty guys now too?” We’re already spending long days in conditioning together. The only thing that got me through the week was the promise of a weekend of fun. “I’m not sure more time together is the answer.”