“Bodie.”
“What?”
“He thinks you’re pissed off and don’t want to talk to him, man. C’mon, you act like you’ve never been in a relationship before.”
“Well, Amber never had a problem telling me when she was mad at me.”
“Yeah, you need to stop that shit and go talk to him. Damn it, I’m always babysitting you young’uns.”
“What do you mean, young’uns? You’re like three years older than me.”
“You’re missing the point. Stop being a dumbass and talk it out before you fuck up your friendship more than you already have.”
The server brings our food and drinks just in time for me to stop getting scolded, giving me time to ponder while we eat.
“Thanks, Cap.”
“Mhmm,” he mumbles as he continues to eat and text his apparent new love interest.
My bouncing knee jingling my keys on my beltloop is the only sound in the room until I hear the click of the lock. The rich smell of his cologne hits me first as he stands above me, and the sound of his voice makes me miss him even as he stands here in front of me.
“You still mad at me?” I’ve never seen Bryce look so disheveled—and tired.
“Depends.” The couch cushion sinks as he sits tensely, next to me. “Are you going to stop being a dipshit next time one of my teammates touches me?”
His head hangs low as he begins to speak. “I’m sorry, Bode. I’m usually not the jealous type.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’ve never dated my best friend before,” he says with a wry expression. I know he’s trying to defuse the tension, but he’s just so adorable that I smile back. “The thought of losing you…”
His words linger thick in the air. The possibility of this not working out hangs over us like an ominous cloud on a cold night.
“I’m going to hurt you too.” Bryce’s whispered words feel like they weren’t meant for me.
“You won’t.” I take his hand and lead him to his room. “I’m staying with you tonight.”
“I need to shower. It was a long night.” He stops short by the bathroom, his hand dropping from mine. “I’ll be quick.”
I want to tell him no—tell him to come to bed with me—but he obviously needs a moment to himself. I change and wait for him just inside his bedroom door. He walks in with a towel around his waist, and I scoop him into my arms, squeezing. As we approach twenty, his muscles loosen, and he no longer feels like a ball of stress.
Why does he look so defeated as he drags me into bed behind him, dropping his towel and wrapping himself around me as I pull the comforter over us?
“Bryce, are you okay?”
“I just missed you.”
I hold him close, thinking this is what he really needs right now, with the gravity of our first argument weighing heavily on both of us. He tucks himself into me, releasing a shaky breath before saying, “I have trouble sleeping when you’re not here.”
I think back to what Calisse said during our lunch together with Alina. “When did it start?”
He doesn’t answer, so I leave it alone until he’s ready to talk about it further. I think about all the times over the past few months, or even years, where I’d found him awake at odd hours of the night, never once doubting his reasoning for it. The darkened circles around his eyes that, in hindsight, have been there since we were in high school. I never thought anything of it since he’s never mentioned sleep issues before. Which leads me to say, why hasn’t he? And why did Calisse know before me? Did he tell her, or is she just that much more perceptive than I am?
My brain races long after Bryce’s breathing slows down, and by the time the sun begins to rise, I still haven’t come up with answers to any of the dozens of questions plaguing me. Morning skate is going to suck today. If I feel this terrible with one sleepless night, how has Bryce survived however long this has been going on? I leave him to rest while I quietly exit the apartment and head to the training facility.
“Did you guys talk, or are we going to have another problem on the ice today?” Davidson says as he comes up behind me at my locker.
“We’re okay. It’s not going to be a problem today. Don’t worry.”
