“I am not evading; I’m conserving the energy.”
He laughs, low and annoyed. “You rearranged your entire morning schedule. Hank said you bailed on lifting and?—”
“Hank talks too much.”
“He does,” Aleks concedes. “But he’s usually right. So, what about your visitor, your fiancée?”
The whistle pierces the air, perfectly timed. “She’s not my fiancée anymore.”
I push off, skating to the far side of the rink, deliberately avoiding Aleks as the drills resume. My body glides on instinct, moving fluidly as it has since childhood. There’s a comfort in that. No deliberation. No analysis. Just speed, angles, and muscle memory.
Aleks maneuvers closer through the rotations, annoyingly persistent.
After a sharp stop, he leans in again. “Don’t do something reckless and ruin this for them.”
“Mind your own business.”
“The kid?—”
“Lucy,” I snap, irritation flaring.
“Faulker, you are?—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your damn name.”
Unable to counter that, I skate away, focusing on the next drill. More laps. My legs burn, and that’s good. Pain is an honest reminder life is real. Also, honest is the fact that Aleks is a pain in my ass.
The truth is, if I owed anyone anything, it would be him. After Anna, of course. Aleks sees through my walls without needing any translation. He knows that when I retreat into myself, it’s because I’m grappling with something. He’s my best friend, a constant presence in my life, almost like fate itself placed him there. But this isn’t something I can lay at his feet just yet. It’s not a riddle to solve or a burden to share over cheap coffee and sarcasm. This is a life. And it’s not mine alone.
As we exit the ice and head into the locker room, Aleks lowers his voice. “Are you in trouble?”
“No.”
“Are you happy?”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t ask me that here.”
“Are you scared?” That hits too close to home.
“I’m busy.” I deflect instead.
He studies me, eyes narrowing. “Something’s going on.”
I pause at my locker, next to his, and quietly admit what I can. “Then something is going on.”
What I don’t say is that I want to unpack it all. That I recognized her from before. That she’s pregnant and incredible. That there’s already a calendar filled with our names, Lucy’s nestled securely between us, safeguarded from both ends.
But that conversation doesn’t belong in the locker room, on the ice, or even with Aleks. Not yet. First, it’s at the kitchen island. With Hildy. With the door closed, and tea cooling between us as we navigate what this means—not just for us, but for Lucy, for Hank, for Anna, for the unexpected little family that has formed without consent.
“I’m not asking you to fix it,” he states.
“Good, because nothing is broken.”
“Lenzin,” he says softly, his tone carrying more weight than I’ve ever heard from him.
“I promise, you’ll be the first to know when I can.”
