He didn’t look great, but he slowly regained color throughout the second half. Neto played well once his time in the penalty box was over, not letting a single puck get past him. I was relieved that my presence wasn’t affecting the quality of his game. Especially since he looked over at me six more times.
The game ended 5–2, with the Clef Hangers coming out on top. I walked Walter out to the parking lot, killing time while Neto was in the locker room with his team.
“I had a good time, Anne,” Walter said. “I’d love to take you out on a real date.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Although it would make my mother happy.”
“And my parents. But that’s not the only reason I’d go out with you. You score high for money, prestige, looks, and intelligence.”
I gave him a flat look. “Tell me you do not rate women on a spreadsheet.”
He straightened his collar. “Of course I do. I have a spreadsheet for everything.”
I laughed. “Well, thanks for the compliment, I guess.”
Comprehension rested on his face. “You’re seeing Ernesto.”
“Does that surprise you? Maybehisspreadsheet allows for nerdy musicians.”
“I’m not surprised that he’s into you. I’m surprised your mother would let you date a non-fae.”
“I don’t care that Ernesto isn’t fae.”
“I’ll bet your mother cares quite a bit about Ernesto being a human,” Walter said, his expression pitying.
“She thinks that being fae makes us better than everyone else, a sentiment no doubt encouraged by Pastor Collins. But I’ve worked with too many talented people to believe that matters in any meaningful way.”
He looked thoughtful. “I like your worldview. Give me a call when your mom pressures you into breaking up with Ernesto.”
“She already tried,” I said, too softly for him to hear as he walked away.
I waited in the lobby until Neto came out, waving goodbye to his teammates as he crossed the distance to me. “Hey.” He picked me up at the waist and twirled me around once before setting me down and kissing my forehead. “Thanks for coming.”
“I enjoyed watching you. You played well,” I said.
His eyes lit up. “I had someone I wanted to impress.” He kissed my cheek. “Did you get Walter to confess?”
“Quite the opposite, actually. I realized it couldn’t possibly be him.”
“And how did you figure that out?” He took my hand and threaded my fingers in his.
“When you punched that player, his nose bled and Walter passed out at the sight of it. There’s no way he could have stabbed Paolo and not fainted right onto the crime scene. But I got another lead. Lillian Daniels was there that day. Walter said she was with him.”
“Do you think she could have killed Paolo?”
“I don’t know. But I definitely want to talk to her and see what she knows.”
He rested his chin on the top of my head and held me close, and even though I was gathering all my bravery for a conversation I desperately didn’t want to have with him, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly I fit, like I belonged there.
“Neto, what if we keep our relationship a secret?” I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat.
He frowned. “I understand wanting to conceal a relationship; I’m always walking a fine line between publicity for the band and privacy. That’s why I play hockey as Ernie Reyes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a self-conscious gesture, and guilt crawled beneath my ribcage and settled in next to my pounding heart as Neto continued, his words coming out a little too fast. “The press will eventually find out about us, but honestly, the band doesn’t draw much attention. Wickham is almost never bothered by paparazzi. There might be a story or two about us, which we could get help from a publicist to manage…” He shook his head. “I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not the press I’m worried about.”
His eyes widened, and I saw a glimpse of hurt in them before he masked it. “Everyone in my life already knows I’m crazy about you. So I assume what you mean is that you want to keep it from your mother.”
I swallowed thickly. “I’ve told myabueloabout you and he wants to meet you, but my mother—it’s just not the right time.”
