In Adam’s room I flip the overhead light on and shut the door. And then I climb into bed and somehow sleep through the night.

When I wake up, Adam is on the couch sleeping with Taryn curled up next to him. The rest of the house is quiet. I tiptoe to the bathroom and reach for the light before I remember. Except this time, the bathroom floods with light and the doorframe is fixed.

It turns out it only takes one hockey player to change a light bulb, and I have a very good idea which one it was.

10

HEATH

I’m lying in bed fully dressed when Maverick sticks his head in my room. “Time to stop touching yourself and go get fondled by the elderly instead.”

I sit up and swing my legs onto the floor.

“Was that Mariah I heard while I was playing Xbox with Rauthruss?” he questions, dark eyebrows raised and a playful smile on his lips.

“It’s weird when you listen in, man.”

“Just looking out for you.”

“How thoughtful.”

We meet the rest of the team at the assisted living home. Coach’s mom lives here. As such, this is where a good portion of our community service hours are done. At least once a semester, he drags us out here. Today we’re doing some outdoor landscaping. Manual labor shit that sucks balls, but in truth, I enjoy it more than going inside the place.

It smells like old people, which makes sense, but I don’t need reminders that we are all going to die and, if we are lucky, get to stink up the world on our way out. I learned that lesson the hard way when my dad died at forty-one. He didn’t even get a chance to enjoy that mothball and shit stench. He’d gone out looking fit and healthy and smelling like Acqua di Gio. I was fourteen and thought he was invincible.

Desert Rose is a massive place. So many residents that I have to wonder if there are any old people left in Valley who aren’t living here. The grounds are well cared for, flowers and shrubs trimmed to make Mother Nature look like a Monet painting.

We’re probably more of a hindrance than a help to the crew since they clearly have it under control, but the old people enjoy watching us work hard. The old men come to sit outside in lawn chairs and regale us with tales of their youth, sleight-of-hand reminders at the end of every tale to enjoy being young and stupid.

Done and done.

Scott and I are spreading rock with rakes along a pathway to a gazebo. I’m tired and a little hungover. It’s hot work, no reprieve from the sun blasting down on us.

“Rhett said Ginny got locked in the bathroom last night,” he says, breaking the silence.