Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,101

out so you can live in your own place.”

“You’re staying there, Kennedy. I want both of you where I know you’re safe. Don’t argue with me on this. And if you have some recommendations for dog sitters, I’d appreciate it.”

Right, she would have to do that. She had promised all along that she would because from day one, she’d had her foot out the door just like Reid said.

“I can do some research.”

“Thanks. I should get going.”

“Sure, say hi to—” He had already hung up. Some things never changed.

35

There was a reason Reid wasn’t a mixer, and that reason was now banging against his head and telling him that he was currently in the worst place with the worst people at the worst time.

Attendance at the Rebels Holiday Party was apparently non-negotiable.

The team had returned from Detroit with a loss, but spirits were currently being revived with ones of the alcoholic and seasonal variety. The NHL was unique in pro sports, in that they scheduled a mandatory break over the holidays. Their next game was at home on the 27th and the mood tonight was definitely festive because of it.

Reid looked around, noting that every one of his teammates had a date, like they were trying to punk him or something. Well, he’d be out of here as soon as the brass made a speech or two.

As if Reid had willed it into action, someone clinked a glass and Harper Chase’s voice rose above the hubbub of the crowd. “Hello, friends and family. Thanks so much for joining us tonight as we celebrate the season with each other. And I mean, both seasons: holiday and hockey. We are doing well, thanks to a great roster, both new and o—”

“Veteran, minou,” Remy called out, which made everyone laugh.

“Thanks, darling. Always catching me when I fall.”

The look they shared was pure love, kind of like how he felt about Bucky.

“I wanted to welcome some of you to the Rebels fam and your first holiday gathering. Cal, Dex, and Reid—we’re thrilled you’re here, making the team stronger. Cheers to you all!”

Everyone raised glasses, while Reid gave his usual awkward half-smile. Despite the suspension, no one had given him a hard time or hinted that it spelled the end of his time as a Rebel. Likely someone would call him into the front office after the holiday and tell him he was surplus to requirements.

Harper went on. “And I know there’s been some speculation about who would take over chief executive duties and I’m thrilled to tell you that our new GM is here tonight. Fitz, say hi to everyone.”

A big-shouldered bruiser of a guy in a suit appeared from behind a potted plant. Hale Fitzgerald, known as Fitz, formerly the assistant GM in Philly. With the previous GM, Dante Moretti, retired as a stay-at-home dad, the Rebels needed new blood at the top.

“Didn’t expect to be put on the spot, Harper,” he said in a deep Georgian accent. “Well, Rebels, you’ve had a good start to the season and are on your way. I’m looking forward to the magic we’re going to make together. To a winning year.” He raised his glass.

Yeah, winning.

Screw this. Toasts done and dusted, Reid headed into the kitchen at Chase Manor to put his glass in the sink. This shindig was catered but he always felt weird about leaving an empty on a tray or a counter. Now he could leave, having shown his face.

“How’s your brother?” That instantly recognizable Cajun drawl announced the arrival of Remy DuPre, Rebels elder statesman, married to the boss.

“He’ll live.”

“It happens, you know. On-ice meltdowns.”

Remy knew all about it. He’d had a very famous one several years ago when he beat up a player who had struck the woman who was now his wife.

Reid studied him, assessing for shade. He and Bast had a good talk yesterday. There would be more of them, and they were definitely on the right road, but Reid couldn’t change his personality overnight. He needed time to accept his brother’s goodwill and forgiveness.

“Family stuff, it’s complicated.”

“I know it. Heard you’re on the outs with your girl.”

Gossiping hens, the lot of them. “Do you have some advice to give me, old man?”

“Old man? You’re killin’ me, Durand.”

Casey, Harper’s assistant walked into the kitchen. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“Pas de probleme,” Remy said, just as Casey turned and walked into Erik Jorgenson. She jumped back and held up her hands.

Jorgenson was always so good-humored and laid-back,