Finally, a message came in.
NIX: Morning. I’m good thanks. It’s 10:30 here, so I’m at the rink. About to go to morning skate. Hope you slept well.
NIX: Fun night?
My chest tightened. He was being polite, but since when were we polite?
PACKY: No. I’d have much rather talked to you. But it was my turn to pay, so I had to go. We’re flying home today. Talk when I get back? I’ll call as soon as I get to my house.
His reply came fast.
NIX: Sure. Have a good flight.
“Sure”? Did he not want to talk to me?
PACKY: I’ll be thinking about you until then. Have a great day.
NIX: Me too. Gotta run.
I stared at the heart emoji, hoping it would explain what the fuck was going on. Normal words, usual emoji. So why did I feel like I’d been dismissed?
A few days earlier, I’d been lying in bed with him, thinking everything finally made sense. Now I was analyzing text messages like they were depositions.
Maybe it was nothing. He really was heading to the ice, right? Was I spiraling over a few words and finding problems that weren’t there? Or had I already fucked this up worse than I thought?
Shit.
I shut my bag and headed for the elevator. My stomach was still in knots.
We rolled into the airport like a horde of zombies in Warriors sweats. A few of the guys had stayed out too late, and it showed. Riley shuffled along, muttering about a headache. Dog was fully asleep on his feet, and Holky kept jerking himself awake every few steps.
Logan groaned. “Goddamn Vegas. Feels like the airport is hungover.”
Riley slung an arm around him. “Because it is, babe.”
Holky elbowed my ribs. “Your boyfriend watch the game last night?”
“Pretty sureNicodid.”
“Prettysure?” Dog asked. “That’s the answer of a man too emotionally fragile to confirm.”
Edwards snorted. “Emotionally fragile? Packy? No. Nico, maybe.”
“Guess it was too late in New York for you to jerk off on a video call,” Holky said.
“Definitely no video, and we didn’t even talk,” I said. “We were both tired. Chill.”
After we left our luggage with the concierge, Riley grinned. “We’ll chill. But for the record, you’re walking around this morning with an undeniable ‘I miss my man’ face.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I tried to sound grouchy, but my mouth twitched anyway.
Dog made a kissy noise. “How long till you see each other again?”
If I hadn’t liked those idiots, I’d have gone to Terminal 1 and flown commercial. Instead, I followed them outside, where we boarded and claimed our usual places near the back. Riley, Holky, and Gabe sat at a card table; Dog and I sat across the aisle from them with our Switches. After Logan and Brody settled in with their tablets, Harpy flopped down in the seat across from Dog and me.
He flashed his shit-stirring grin. “Tell us, Packy. When you FaceTime Rossi, do you use good lighting or rely on your natural glow?”
Holky groaned, way over the top. “Jesus, Harpy. Packy knows all the angles. He’s got that soft-boy, ‘wanna mess around?’ lighting preset.”
