The safest thing to do would be bury it all again, finish the tour, and go back to hating him from a distance. But I couldn’t do that. After what happened in Atlanta and Houston, I had to find a way to fix things.
12/
nico
I spottedPacky before he saw me. He was leaning against a pillar near baggage claim at Denver International, scrolling through his phone with a suitcase by his side. It had been two weeks since Houston, and he looked lighter somehow, a little less like he was bracing for a hit.
When he glanced up and caught my eye, he broke into an actual smile. It wasn’t the fake PR grin or sharp-edged smirk I was used to, but something approaching friendly.
“Rossi,” he said. “You look like shit. Did your flight get delayed?”
“Nah, just a lot of turbulence. Your flight okay?”
“A little bouncing around, but nothing bad.” He pointed at the exit. “Car’s waiting. You ready?”
In the limo heading downtown, Packy was surprisingly chatty. He almost seemed relaxed.
“Anybody yellPackoat you in the last two weeks?” he asked.
“Ugh. Like a battle cry.” I shook my head. “My teammates got bored with needling me, but there were Packo signs at all our games. In Toronto, it seemed like half the arena was chanting it.”
“Same,” he said, grinning. “The noise in Buffalo was bad enough, but Detroit was the worst. They threw octopuses and practically raised the roof yellingPacko.”
We laughed, and I threw my hands in the air. “Fucking league. They call it an outreach tour, but it’s more like a traveling circus.”
He snickered. “Why aren’t the otheroutreach ambassadorsgetting any heat? They do their appearances and move on without any grief at all.”
I waggled my eyebrows. “That’s obvious. We’re the hot ones.”
“Hell yes.” His phone dinged, and he frowned at the screen. “It’s Harpy. Team stuff, so I have to answer. Excuse me.”
While he texted, I stared out the window at the Rockies. We were headed to a fan event for the Boulders, Colorado’s perpetually rebuilding franchise that seemed stuck in an endless cycle of new faces. Apparently, Packy and I were supposed to drum up some excitement. Good luck to us. I wasn’t quite convinced we’d figured out how not to kill each other.
I must have drifted off, because I nearly jumped out of my skin when Packy yelled, “Goddamn fucking hell. I’m going to kill somebody.”
“Jesus!” I said. “What the fuck?”
His eyes were blazing. “I hate that son of a bitch Gasser for starting this whole goddamn thing. And Marissa? You know this has her fingerprints all over it.”
“What has her fingerprints?” My panic drained into annoyance. “What the hell is going on, Pack?”
He thrust his phone at me. “Look.”
I took it. “Look at what?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not dumb. You’re the one who can’t remember how to tie his skates.”
“Fuck off.”
I started reading. Five seconds later, I was swearing along with him.
TAKING HOCKEY AND THE INTERNET BY STORM
Join us at 4:00 this afternoon at the Brown Palace Hotel for an exclusive reception hosted by the Colorado Boulders. Kirby “Packy” Paquette of the Buffalo Warriors and Nico Rossi of the New York Condors will be our featured guests.
They’ve battled on the ice, trended online, and stolen the hearts of fans everywhere. Come see for yourself why everyone’s talking about their grouch-to-grin chemistry. Decide whether this is hockey’s hottest rivalry or its sweetest surprise.
