Monty’s eyes lift to mine, amusement wrestling with concern like he hates that he finds me funny right now.
“You threw up twice,” he says.“Of course we’re concerned.We get a vote.”
“Hate to agree with him,” Cally adds, holding up two fingers, “but you’ve looked like shit since the airport.And then you puked your guts out.Twice.”
“Allegedly,” I say.“For the record, I’m pretty sure the driver did that to me.I’m a victim.”
“The driver didn’t make you nauseous for two days,” Cally says.
I freeze.
Because fuck.I did say that.
It’s been more than two days.Closer to a week, if I’m being honest.A week of feeling off.Of headaches I blamed on jet lag.Of pretending my stomach wasn’t staging a slow revolt until today forced the issue.
I swallow and it doesn’t go down easy.
My brain does what it always does when it gets scared—it sprints straight to the worst possible ending and tries to unpack there.Weird virus and I’m probably patient zero.I’ll be a headline.My dad reading them and feeling like he failed me again.
No.Stop.I’m fine.
I have to be.
For him.For my dad.For the two men in this room who would derail entire careers if it meant keeping me upright.
Which is exactly why I can’t be the reason they do that.
This would be a fantastic moment to take a very long assignment.Somewhere far.Five or six years.Plenty of distance for them to focus on hockey and forget that I exist.
It’s not something new though.I’ve been doing that since college.I chose the farthest from the two.NYU.Then I decided to become ...me.A seasoned traveler who likes to film everything that’s happening around the world.
I don’t understand why they can’t just fall in love with someone else.Why they can’t move on the way I keep pretending I have.I’ve tried—dates, distractions, the occasional night meant to prove I’m capable of feeling something normal with someone new.
Nothing sticks.It’s like I’m cursed to love these two, which makes my love life impossible.Since I can’t choose, I have to keep myself guarded.Remind myself that even when I’m yearning for a hug, a kiss, I have to set up boundaries because the last thing I want to do is give them hope—or give myself hope.
Right now, it’d be a good time to just snuggle with them and let them care for me.I can’t.It’s a losing game that breaks my heart ...probably my soul.Leaves me lonely even when I could say I’m lucky to have two men loving me.It’s so ridiculously selfish.I should maybe just ghost them.Not that I can.I tried that once.They found me and made me promise I would never do it again.According to them, it’s hard to chase me when they’re in the middle of a season.
Feeling somehow defeated, I aim for the couch because it’s close and my legs are doing that fun thing where they lie to me until I stop moving.
The couch is absurdly soft.Criminally comfortable.I sink into it and decide this might be my forever now.
Monty disappears into the bedrooms.When he comes back, he walks toward the kitchen.I hear the cabinets opening.Soon enough, a glass appears in front of me filled with water.
“I have fruit,” he says.“Or I can make a salad.”
“She needs protein,” Cally counters immediately.
“We should stick to safe foods,” Monty replies, already aligned, not fighting.“Ulcers don’t play nice.”
Cally scoffs.“That’s rich, Alberto.Next you’ll suggest a nutritionist.Or a chef.”
“That’s a great idea,” Monty glares at him.“I’ll have Conrad look into it.”
“Harvey could do it, if that’s what we need,” Cally says, and I’m not liking that they’re agreeing on something.
They’re not circling each other.They’re syncing.Which should make me feel safer.Instead, it makes my pulse pick up.
Because this is what happens when they stop competing.And I don’t know what it costs when they finally do.
