Dylan paused until I realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “What?”
“I haven’t seen him this happy, this smiley, since I’ve known him. And that all happened when you entered his orbit. It’s nice to see.” Dylan grabbed another marshmallow from the bag and popped it into his mouth. “Makes me jealous,” he said, although the words were a little difficult to decipher. He swallowed. “I’m probably the biggest romantic on the team, and yet my dating life is a perpetual shit show of red flags and commitment issues.”
“How are you finding these dates?”
“No,I’mthe one with all the red flags and commitment issues.”
“Ooohh, gotcha.” I cocked my head. Dylan, to me, seemed like a great catch. He was handsome and rocked those birthmarks extremely well; he was hilarious andsmart, and he was kind. But I also wasn’t dating him. I only knew the parts of Dyl he allowed me to see when we were hanging out after practice or grabbing a drink at the bar. “What kind of red flags?”
“I guess my biggest is that I’m, as David Attenborough would say, ‘a verifiablefuck boyout in the wild,’” he said in a terrible David Attenborough expression. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes with people I could actually see myself with long term. Honestly, it could also be a little bit of self-sabotage going on. I didn’t have an easy time growing up. Lots of family things. I don’t think I had that loving, long-term relationship to look up to, so I never chased it. But now that I’m getting older, I’m thinking that all this time, I’d been chasing the wrong thing. That I wasted so much time.”
“Don’t think of it as a waste. All those choices you made, even if some of them were mistakes, they’re leading you in the right direction.” I thought about all the decisions I had made in my life—dating Ben, staying with him,leavinghim, choosing to play hockey professionally, accepting the trade to Burlington—all the big, most foundation-rocking moments had led me to meeting Gabe.
“Man, I hope so. I’m kind of tired of being alone.”
“You won’t be. And you aren’t. You’ve got us and your pack.”
“I know, and I love all of you. But you know, it’s not the same. I’m a cuddler. I want someone to hold every night. Is that so much to ask?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe I should get one of those big body pillows? Have some random, probably copyrighted, hunk printed on the front.” He looked up thoughtfully as he stuffed another marshmallow in his mouth. “Think Amazon has that?”
“Most likely,” I said with a chuckle. I noted he said “hunk” and not “babe,” which was interesting. I hadn’t seen him with any of his dates, but I had assumed he was also straight.
Before we could talk some more, Chris and Emmy appeared with Ryland, one of the newest additions to the team when you didn’t include me. He was an aggressive center and a walking brick wall of a man. I started pouring a cup for them, but Chris held his arm out. “We’re here to give you guys a break. Go walk around, explore, talk to some fans.”
“Actually,” Emmy said, “I saw Gabe about to give an interview over by the gazebos. He told me to tell you to meet him there.”
An interview? Huh. Gabe probably wasn’t too thrilled about that. “Thanks, guys.” I clapped them both on the shoulders of their heavy coats and walked out of the booth. Dylan spotted Soren, who was with Julian and our assistant coach, taping some of the sticks that the kids had brought with them. There was special tape for today’s event with room for signatures from their favorite players. He split off from me as I went to look for Gabe.
Maybe he needed rescuing from the press.
It didn’t take long to find him. There was a scenic area on a small hill that looked over the rink with the lake behind it. A large oak tree rustled its branches in the cold wind. I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my heavy coat and walked up the cobblestone path toward the gaggle of news reporters and cameramen.
“Hey,” I said, making eye contact with Gabe as a producer was handing him a mic. He waved at me, blue eyes lighting up. “So sorry to cut in, but Coach needs you for the puck drop that’s about to happen.” It was a lie I made up on the spot, but Gabe ran with it.
“Oh, really?” He turned to the smiling producer, handing the mic back to her. “I’m so sorry, I’ll have to come back. Or you can interview Michael—he’s one of our left wingmen. He’s right over there.”
“Perfect,” she said and pointed down the hill, nudging the PA next to her. “Go hand him a release and bring him up here, please.”
I walked with Gabe down the hill. A couple of kids ran past us, shouting about getting to meet Soren. He was pretty popular, having saved some really tight and memorable goals, but the funny thing was, he was also the most antisocial out of all of us. The attention made him uncomfortable, and from what I’d sensed, it wasn’t just because he was secretly a shifter.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” Gabe said.
“That was okay, right? I figured you might not have wanted to be on TV.”
“No, you’re right. You know me well.” His smile radiated almost as brightly as the silver chain glinting around his neck. He looked good today—as he did every day—in a dark blue Patagonia coat that helped bring out the colors in his eyes. “Want to sit?” He pointed at a bench that had just been abandoned by an exhausted set of parents, their little girl asking if she could put her skates on and go on the ice again.
“Yeah, my feet hurt. I think I’d rather serve hot chocolate out on the ice. These Nikes aren’t doing it for me.”
“Maybe I can give you a foot massage later.”
“That’d be nice,” I said, already getting excited at the thought.
We sat down on the bench, keeping a small bit of space between us. “I couldn’t stop looking at you this morning,” I admitted to Gabe. “I think Dyl noticed.”
“He barely notices the nose on his own head, but he notices that, of course.”
