Page 13 of Checking from Behind

"I've got a house and no furniture." I shrugged. "Gives us more room."

I had finally bought a couch last week, along with a coffee table and a couple of bar stools for the kitchen island, but my place remained empty until their delivery.

"Might as well fill it with people."

That got a laugh, and a few guys said they'd come.

"As long as there's food that isn't pizza, because if I eat pizza one more time I am pretty sure I'll become one," Ashford said, grinning.

"I can swing by for an hour. I book the ice for an early morning practice session tomorrow." Ryan added.

"What about you Callaway?" I questioned.

"I can try. It will depend on whether my sitter can stay and if my daughter decided to go to sleep on time." Callaway answered as he shoved his clothes into his bag.

"I'll bring the bluetooth speaker." Ethan added grabbing it from the shelf in his locker.

"Perfect, see you all soon."

I showered, changed into jeans and a clean T-shirt, and drove home with the windows down. The October night air was cooler than it had been in August and September. Still warm, but with an edge that said fall was coming.

Preseason was over, the roster was set, and I was on it. I still couldn't believe it. I'd made the cut, which meant the contract was real, the jersey was real, and my first goal was real. I called my parents on my way out of the locker room right after the game.

"Marshall, I watched the whole thing." My mother cried into the phone. "You were excellent out there and your father, he was beside himself, barely sat down the entire third period. We are both so proud of you."

"Thanks Mom."

"Wait you're father wants to talk to you." My mom cried.

"Hell of a shot, son."

That was it. My father was a man of few words, but when I heard those four, I could tell he was trying not to break down. Those four words mattered more to me than twenty thousand people screaming ever could.

I pulled into my driveway and got to work getting things ready for the guys. I placed an order for wings, sliders, and fries. Then I ordered two cases of beer, the one that Jeremy drank and a case of hard seltzer.

It was close to ten when the guys started arriving. Within an hour my house sounded like the locker room back at the arena, the only difference being that alcohol was being served. Ethan had set up his speaker and was pumping music into every corner of the house. It was loud, chaotic, and exactly what we all needed.

Around eleven I let Aiden in; he'd arrived but needed to take a call from his babysitter, and when I opened the door, my eyes drifted to the house next door.

Her lights were on upstairs. I stood there staring at the upstairs window a little longer than I should have while holding the door open for Aiden. I knew her name now. L. Winters. I'd caught it off a piece of mail one afternoon when we were at the mailbox at the same time.

I stood there for a moment, thinking about the night I'd gone to her house. How she'd looked at me as she shut the door in my face, then how I'd ruined her blouse with the iced coffee and she stared at me like I was some natural disaster. That she was still occupying space in my head was shocking to me.

I didn't like her; that much I knew. She was stubborn, and I hated how she knew nothing about me but could look at me like I was a problem. The last time I'd run into her though, I could see she was hiding something under her irritation. She was too calm even when she was angry, and it made me want to push her a little harder to see what would happen.

"Hey." Aiden's hand was on my shoulder. "Are you coming inside, or are you gonna stare at the neighbor's house all night?"

"I'm coming," I said and shut the door without looking back.

As the night went on, the party got louder. Ethan cranked the speaker until I could see the liquid in my glass vibrate. Someone had found the bottle of whiskey Ashford had left the night they helped me get settled, and the bottle was making its way around the room. Jeremy was telling a story about a game in Detroit from two seasons ago, something about a wrong hotel, a fire alarm, and Ethan ending up in the lobby in nothing but a towel and one sock. The entire room was crying and laughing.

I was in full party swing, drinking, talking and laughing when the doorbell rang.

The room didn't quiet down, the music was too loud for most people to hear it, but I was closest to the door. I opened the door, somehow already knowing who it was.

She was standing on my porch in black leggings and an oversized hoodie. Her hair was in a loose braid over one shoulder, and she had her arms crossed over her chest. Behind her, the neighborhood was dark and still. Every other house had its lights off. It was almost one in the morning on a Tuesday night, and I was the only person on the street who seemed to think that was an acceptable time for a party.

"Hi," I said, leaning up against the door frame.