“Oh my fucking god, don’t get me started again,” Jake huffs. “You did the same thing, babe. You didn’t tell anyone you gave her a key—”
“It just hadn’t come up yet,” she retorts, hands on her hips. “We were all a little busy with the Winter Classic, remember? It didn’t seem necessary to chase you out onto the ice and horse-collar you just to tell you I gave Tess a key to a house none of us live in—”
“Horse-collaring is a football tackle,” he shouts. “In hockey it’s called ‘holding’—”
“That is so far beyond the point—”
“It is the point! You’re married to three hockey players—”
“Enough,” Ilmari barks, his gaze darting between them. “How did either of you get a key? That’s my question.”
“Caleb,” they say at the same time.
“He made us all keys just in case we needed them,” Rachel explains.
“Yeah, what’s yours is mine now, asshole,” Jake adds. “Metaphors, remember?”
“Ohmygod, it’s metamour,” Rachel cries. “We can’t keep correcting you—”
“Fuck! I hate that fucking word.” He glares at Mars. “I hate calling you a metamour, Mars. It’s weird and confusing and I just—I fucking hate it.”
“I never asked you to call me that,” Ilmari replies.
“We gotta pick something better,” Jake presses. “Why can’t I just call you my husband?”
“I never said you couldn’t,” he says softly.
Jake sucks in a sharp breath. “Wait, oh my god, are you serious right now?” He looks to Rachel, all the anger blown from his sails. “Babe, is he serious?”
“He’s always serious,” Rachel replies, her anger receding, too, as she glances between them.
“It’s my factory setting,” Ilmari adds, slowly crossing his arms again.
“No way. Don’t fucking do that,” says Jake. “Don’t make a joke now. Mars, are you serious? Can I call you my husband? I might cry in front of these guys if you say yes,” he adds, gesturing with a wave at me and Ryan.
We share an awkward glance. Maybe Ryan and I should just go wait this out in the sauna.
“Call me whatever you want,” Ilmari says at last.
“I mean, Cay’s my husband,” Jake says. “Like, my husband husband. Like, we’re legally married.”
“I know,” says Mars. “I was there.”
“But you could be my husband too,” Jake says gently. “In a purely friends way,” he adds.
“I said call me whatever you want,” Ilmari repeats with a shrug.
Jake gazes at him for a minute. Finally, he breaks away with a shrug of his own. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not calling you my husband until you beg me for it. We’ll find another word to use as a placeholder.”
Ilmari’s scarred brow lifts slightly. “A placeholder?”
“Yep,” Jake replies. “‘Cause the day will come when you’ll beg me for it. Could be tomorrow, could be ten years from now. I’m patient. I’ll wait.”
“Is that a threat or a bet?” Ilmari replies, smirking.
“Ooookay,” says Rachel, holding up both hands between them. “Let’s continue this at home, yeah? We gotta deal with this,” she adds, gesturing to me and Ryan. “I mean, I hate to do this, but Ryan, Tess was given a key first so…”
“It’s no problem. I’ll go,” says Ryan from the couch. “I’ll call Perry or Dave-O and have them come pick me up.”
“You’re not rooming with Davidson for the next four weeks,” Jake counters. “We shack you up with him, you’ll kill him inside of two days. The guy may be a sieve, but he’s our sieve. We need him.”
“For now,” Mars adds.
“Perry, then,” says Ryan. It’s his voice that hooks something deep in me. He sounds so tired, so physically and emotionally drained.
“It’s fine,” I hear myself say, my hand clutching to the front of my blanket dress.
They all glance over at me, even the dog who stands dutifully at Rachel’s side.
“Seriously?” says Jake.
“Tess, it’s not a big deal,” says Rachel. “There are plenty of other places he can stay. We’re just trying to find him someplace with minimal stairs while he’s on the crutches.”