“Packy! Nico! Over here!”
“Quick interview?”
“How does it feel to be trending as a couple?”
My stomach tightened, and Nico went stiff beside me.
“The internet likes us,” he said lightly. “We’re grateful for the support.”
“Are you two together?” someone shouted.
“We’re partners for this tour,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Is your rivalry fake?”
“Has it always been an act?”
“What do you think of the name Packo?”
“It’s a pain in the ass,” I said under my breath.
Nico leaned close, still smiling for the cameras. “Easy. They’ll hear you.”
“Good. Maybe they’ll fuck off.”
He gave me a look he’d used in college when I was being an idiot, a mix of patience, amusement, and exasperation. “Pretty sure that’s not how this works.”
Judging by the shouting and flashing cameras, he was right.
9/
packy
The damn housewas too big for one person. When I bought it, Mia and I talked about kids and how great it would be to fill the extra bedrooms with cribs and noise. Now the rooms sat empty, and every footstep on the hardwood floors was a reminder of how the marriage had failed.
It had been several days since I got home from Houston, and I still hadn’t unpacked my suitcase. It sat in the corner of the bedroom, half-open, clothes spilling out like I might need to leave again at any moment. If I waited long enough, I would. Our next trip was coming up, this time to Denver and Kansas City. God, I didn’t need any more airports or hotels, and I certainly didn’t need more of Nico fucking Rossi.
I should’ve been dreading it, right? That would be the usual response to being forced to spend time with someone I hated. But the thought of seeing him again felt a lot like anticipation, which made no goddamn sense.
Hungry, I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was beer, some three-day-old Thai leftovers, and a nearly empty carton of eggs. Mia used to make sure we had plenty of food on hand, but now I only bought groceries when I had to.
The Thai food went in the trash, and I decided on scrambled eggs for dinner. But when I checked the carton, they’d expired last month.Fuck me.The eggs went in the garbage too. I opened a beer and stood at the kitchen island, staring into space.
“Get it together, Paquette,” I muttered, banging a fist on the island. “Nico’s still the guy who tried to turn everyone against you.”
Saying it out loud didn’t make me feel any better. I drained my beer and grabbed another before going to the TV room. The remote was lost somewhere under the couch cushions, but I didn’t feel like searching for it. Instead, I sat in the dark and let my mind wander.
The thoughts I’d been dodging came on strong. I could still see him leaning over his stick, grinning at me like we were nineteen again. Sweat trickled down his neck, and trash talk was rolling off his tongue like he’d invented it. I could even smell his stupid cologne, the same one he’d worn in college.
His cologne? Jesus Christ. Now I’m thinking about how a man smells? What the hell is wrong with me?
I’d dreaded morning skate, but the hard work, cold air, and physical effort shut my brain up for a while. My teammates were happy, chirping about everything from fantasy lineups to bad dates. I was glad none of them brought up Nico, but as soon as I thought about that, Harpy skated over during a water break.
“Well?” He put on the grin that meant he was about to be annoying. “How was the trip?”
“Fine.”
“Only fine?”
