“Well,” he gives me a knowing, lopsided smile, “you told me we should bejust friendswhen you thought I was Tate, and people who have nothing going on don’t usually do that.”
Obviously, he’s a hundred percent right, and I don’t have any cards left in my deck.
“Kissing?” he prompts. “Hand stuff? Mouth stuff? Hey, you’re blushing. Does that mean I’m getting warmer?”
“Oh my god,” I laugh, shaking my head. “Tate’s right. You are annoying.”
He chuckles. His laugh sounds like Tate’s, but not as nice. “I’m just looking out for him. Tate takes care of everyone but himself.”
“I know.” I think about asking him if he missed hockey, and the idea I’ve been working on in my mind for the past week.
“He’s always been like that. Did he tell you about our dad?”
With my eyes on the ice as the players do their last warmups, I nod.
“Wow. He must really like you.”
“He doesn’t. Not like that.” I don’t know why I’m lying. He told me he wanted me. Maybe I just don’t want to think about it anymore. “We work together. We can’t date.”
“What’s the matter? He’s too old for you?”
I give him a look like,please. Tate makes forty look good.
“Because he had a drinking problem?”
“What? No. That’s not his fault. It’s admirable, how Tate has managed his alcoholism.”
“Is it his ex? Because Holly’s super cool, and she’ssupercurious and excited about you two.”
She is? Did Bea tell her about me? “He has a kid.”
“Yeah.” He makes a face. “Bea’s an annoying little shit, anyway.”
My jaw drops, and furious, protective rage throttles through me like my blood is jet fuel and Noah just lit a match.
“Fuck you,” I snap. “She’s perfect, and you’re a terrible uncle.”
He smiles. I walked right into his trap.
“You’re messing with me,” I say flatly.
“Yep.” He smiles more, like he got exactly what he wanted. “Small but fierce,” he mutters under his breath, and I laugh.
“Fuck off,” I say without heat. “You baited me.”
“So Bea’s not the problem, either.”
Do you want kids?Tate had asked a while ago. I said no.
Bea’s different, though.
“Everything is more serious with a kid. He can’t just mess around and have fun the way people normally would at the beginning of a relationship.”
I can’t tell him the deepest, darkest truth: that there’s no way Tate and I are long-term, no way he would choose me forever, and I can’t bear to hurt Bea by disappearing from her life. And if we ended, I think I might have to disappear. It would be too painful to see Tate every day, see him move on and date and marry someone lovely. See Bea fall head over heels for her and give her drawings for her fridge and play guitar for her.
Noah’s quiet for a moment, watching as the game starts. “Well, Shorty, I’ll tell you this?—”
“Don’t call me short.”
