“And pretty,” I agree.
Enzo’s lips are in a straight line, but he nods. His fingers curl into fists, and he marches through a door. I follow him into Luca’s bedroom.
“What do you think he would like us to bring?” Enzo asks.
“As much as we can.”
We find a suitcase in the apartment and pack it full of clothes. I go into Gaby’s bedroom. “Maybe we should bring Luca some sweaters or something.”
“That’s a good idea.”
I open and close Gaby’s drawers, taking things that I think look nice and are unisex enough that an older Luca might even wear them.
We drop the bags on the bus and head to the arena. Enzo hasn’t said a word since we left the cottage. He’s about to play his old team. And I’m starting to think that’s not the only thing troubling him.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Enzo
Axel thinks Gaby was pretty.
I mean, she was. Of course she was.
I yank my jersey over my head and try to focus on the upcoming game. The fabric catches on my ear. Way to reassure the team about my physical prowess pre-game.
“You good?” Axel asks from beside me.
“Fine.”
He frowns but doesn’t push.
I stand and stretch. My shoulders won’t loosen. Even in the locker room, we can hear the crowd roar. My former crowd. The people who used to cheer my name and now?—
Now they’ll boo.
“Heads up, Enz.” Axel tosses me my stick. “Let’s destroy them.”
I catch it and almost smile.
On the ice, everything simplifies. There’s the puck. There’s the net. There’s the satisfying crack of my stick connecting, the cold air burning my lungs, the roar that rises when?—
When the other team scores.
Shit.
Diego—my former linemate, my former friend—skates past me with a grin. “Miss us yet?”
I don’t answer. I focus on the next play, then the next. Axel feeds me a perfect pass, and I bury it in the top corner. The LA fans go silent. Our bench erupts.
Axel crashes into me, arms around my shoulders, helmet knocking against mine.
We win 4-2. Axel and I both scored once.
In the visitor’s locker room, the guys are celebrating. Axel is in the middle of it all, grinning, golden, perfect.
We’re best friends. We’re co-parents. We’re... whatever we are at night, when the lights are off and his hands are on me and I can pretend it means something.
