Page 4 of Ruck Me Harder

“I get it. My brother is, like, movie star attractive,” I tell her. “Doesn’t mean I want to fuck him though.”

“You can fuck my brother,” she offers, then winces. “I’m making this weird. I just—you’re cool, and he’s cool, and it would be cool if you two got together.”

“And he’s not just looking to hit it and quit it? I know how hockey players are.”

Cari shakes her head. “He says he’s over the hook up scene. Not that I want to know what my brother gets up to. You know? I don’t need to know any details. He thinks you’re, like, super gorgeous.” She pulls out her phone. “Here. Let me show you⁠—”

The guy on the screen is objectively cute, I guess. He has a square jaw and dark brown hair, short on the sides and longer lettuce on top, with a scruffy beard. His eyes are soulful.

From the picture, there’s no tingling, no sparks, no nothing. He’s just some dude.

But when I see the eagerness on my teammate’s face…

“Okay, you can set us up,” I relent.

He doesn’t have to be Mr. Right. It’s okay if he’s just Mr. Right Now.

And that’s how I find myself two weeks later on the doorstep of a small row house in Mattapan. It’s not the kind of house I expected a big shot hockey star to live in. Knowing what my brother’s condo and the places his friends live in back in Colorado are like…

The door swings open and Cari is on the front stoop.

“You’re here!” She squeals and jumps in place. “He’ll be here any minute.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask her.

“Yeah, of course!”

Al suggested something low-key, grabbing coffee and then maybe dinner. He texted me while I was on my way that his practice was running late. Fine, okay, whatever. I get that.

He did not mention he lives with his sister.

I don’t know why that bothers me. I lived with my brother Perry for two years when he was signed with Boston. But now…

Taking a breath, I try to release the tension in my shoulders and look around.

The house is shabby but clearly well-loved. The room is clean and smells nice. The leather couch has a plaid throw blanket tossed over the back. There are photos everywhere.

My eyes zero in on a framed photo on the wall. It’s a family portrait, a young Cari and two brothers with their parents. She looks to be about fourteen, gangly and brace-faced. The brother in the middle is wearing a hockey jersey and a ball cap; he’s just been drafted. The other brother is⁠—

I swallow.

The other brother has dark hair and a short, scruffy beard. His muscles bulge in his too-small suit jacket.

But his face…

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing toward the other brother.

“Oh, that’s Tony,” Cari says casually.

I toss the name around. “Tony.”

“Yeah. Antonio. He’s the oldest,” she says. “He’s a gymnast.”

The room starts to close in on me. The walls are shrinking. My shirt collar feels like it’s choking me. I can’t breathe.

“I have to go,” I announce. I haven’t taken my coat off yet. Good. I can make a clean break for it.

Cari frowns. “Did I do something?”