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Brock liked the new house. It was spacious enough for two dogs and a hockey player, but it wasn’t so big that it felt empty. He’d had enough of the loneliness associated with that feeling at his old place, and he was glad to be rid of it. His living room had a sliding glass door that led to his backyard, where a lone lemon tree was growing. The tree was half the reason he bought the house. He wanted to see something grow, but he wasn’t around enough to tend to a garden. The tree was young enough that he’d still be able to see its growth, and he was excited for it. Everything in his life was finally coming together in one place, and he quickly settled into his new home.
Summer passed and fall came. Training camp was nothing new, but it was nice to see his teammates again. Summer training had kept his body in shape, but nothing got his mind on track like finally hitting the ice again. There was a good feeling in the locker room, the whole team seemed ready for whatever the season would bring them. They all got together at Bo’s house the day before their first preseason game, and Brock found himself sitting between Quinn and Thatcher. Quinn was laughing about something he and the Tkachuk brothers had gotten up to that summer and Thatcher was obviously trying to hide his heart eyes and Brock was hit with a wave of loneliness. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Bo looked at him with a smile.
“Hey man, you haven’t told us about your new place yet. When’s the housewarming party?” Bo asked, mischief in his eyes.
“Once we win a game, probably,” Brock answered with a laugh. “But we’ll get there.” With a single question, Bo soothed him. Brock used to suspect it was some kind of magic, but it turned out that Bo was simply that much of a team dad. Brock himself didn’t have magic, but he knew a couple of the guys on the team did. Laurent had the ability to see auras, Brandon could start fires with a thought, and Jordie could talk to animals. There were a few other guys that were probably magic, but if they didn’t want to talk about it, Brock wasn’t going to force them.
“So, tell us about the house.” Bo snapped Brock out of his thoughts.
“It’s a house.” Brock shrugged, unsure of what to say. “The kitchen is pretty big, the shower is nice, and the backyard is fenced in for the dogs. There’s also a lemon tree in the back. I don’t know anything about it, though.”
“Lemon trees bloom in the spring.” Everybody’s attention snapped towards Elias, who managed to look both exhausted and energized at once. “They typically don’t produce fruit until the winter, though.”
“Dude,” Brock said, confused and mildly impressed. “How do you even know that?” Elias simply shrugged in response, Quinn coming to his rescue.
“He knows a lot about absolutely trivial things,” Thatcher explained. “He helped me with my strawberry plants this summer.”
Brock looked over at Bo who just shrugged in acceptance. Their team was a bit weird, but it kept things interesting. It was nice to be surrounded by the guys that cared about him again.
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Fall turned to winter and things got harder for Brock. They weren’t winning like he had hoped they would, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break out of the slump he was in. Every road trip left him exhausted, both mentally and emotionally. At least he had his dogs and his little lemon tree. After every bad home game, Brock liked to sit in his living room and watch Coolie and Milo run around his tree. After road trips, it was the first thing he saw when he looked out of his bedroom window. He woke up on a Monday after a too-long road trip to the east coast to find a single tiny, green lemon on his tree, barely visible from his bedroom. Days later, green turned to yellow and he had his first lemon. He facetimed Elias as soon as he picked it, and he smiled so hard his face hurt when Elias told him he was proud.
The next game they had, Brock broke out of his slump with two goals and an assist. Elias skated into his arms after the game and grinned, gently knocking their visors together, and for a moment Brock didn’t feel lonely anymore. He drove home with a smile on his face, and when he let the dogs out he stood outside and looked at his tree. Even in the cold Vancouver winter, it produced fruit. For the first time in a long time, Brock went to sleep looking forward to the next day. Tomorrow was another day, another practice, another chance, another lemon on the tree.