He dropped it because that’s who Noah was. He trusted I’d come to him when I was ready.
Kai, who’d been doing C-cuts nearby, spun around and stopped close enough that our skates touched. “What’s your brain doing?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Nothing helpful.”
He hummed. I could see him filing that response away. “Coming to lunch?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Skating didn’t help, and neither did food. We went to a deli near the rink and sat in our usual booth. When some fans asked for autographs, we smiled and made small talk. I angled my face when they asked for selfies. No need for everyone on Instagram to see me looking like shit.
After we finished huge pastrami sandwiches, Noah clasped his hands and set them on the table. “Okay. Everyone, tell us something good about your week.”
Jace groaned. “We’re doing feelings now?”
“Yep,” Noah said. “I’m an alternate captain, and I hereby decree it’s time to share.”
Theo laughed, and McKay talked about beating his personal record for bench presses. Kai launched into a ninety-miles-per-hour rundown of a new hyper-focus project that involved building a custom stats model. His words tumbled over each other as he bounced in his seat.
“Rosco?” Noah prompted. “Your turn.”
I picked up my fork, then set it down again. “Don’t know. The season’s over, and I’m still here.”
Theo winced. “Jesus. Ten out of ten on optimism.”
Kai, who knew me better than anyone there, watched closely.
Noah let it pass, and the conversation moved on. Jace bragged about his latest hookup, Theo told us about a new car he’d ordered, and Noah mentioned a trip to Bali with his girlfriend.
I nodded at the right times and smiled when I was supposed to. Once, I even laughed just to fit in.
Jace told more of his hookup story, something about a hot waiter and a bottle of tequila, but I kept waiting for my phone to buzz. Every time someone else’s phone went off, my pulse jumped.
I’d barely kicked off my shoes when the doorbell rang. My heart jumped as I crossed the living room in five long strides. On the way there, I planned how I’d push Pack against the wall, kiss the hell out of him, and tell him how I felt before he could get away again.
The visitor turned out to be Kai, hoodie half-zipped, beanie pulled down over his forehead. A paper bag dangled from one hand, and a six-pack of soda from the other.
“Not the person you were hoping for, I’m guessing,” he said.
The disappointment hit so hard my knees wobbled, and I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself. “You’re a solid second,” I said, trying to manage a smile. “Maybe third.”
“I’ll take top three. Can I come in, or are we doing this in the hallway?”
“Doing what?”
He shouldered past me, lifting the bag. “Cookies. Seemed cruel to show up with feelings and no sugar.”
“For the record, sugar’s the only reason I’m letting you in.”
“Exactly why I planned ahead.”
I closed the door and leaned against it, bracing myself for what was sure to be a difficult conversation.
Kai set the bag and drinks on the coffee table and turned to face me. “You want the soft start, or the one where I tell you your misery face is deeply troublesome?”
I tried to laugh, but it caught halfway and threatened to become something worse. “Soft.”
He flopped down on the sofa and patted the spot beside him. “You haven’t been yourself since you got back from Buffalo. Quiet, dodging my texts. When I called, you gave me some bullshit about wishing Packy the best.” He ticked off more points on his fingers. “You haven’t chirped me once. You skated like shit today. At lunch, you looked like you were at a funeral.”
