“That sucks, Florian.”
I nod solemnly. “The doctor says it will probably be back soon.”
The doctor also said if the memories don’t come back soon, that the injury might be more serious than they feared. I was hoping I would remember by now. It is a bad sign that I haven’t.
I don’t want to think about that.
I don’t want to imagine a world where I can’t play hockey and where my mind has become fragmented. How could I have lost six weeks of my life?
I stare at these tall athletic men. Some of them look familiar, but I watch a lot of hockey. Two of them I know: Finn and Noah, the married couple.
“This is Finn Carrington,” Mateo says.
“Pleased to meet you again,” I say.
He grins. “Pleased to meet you again too, Florian.”
Then he does a fist-bump thing.
“And this is his husband, Noah,” Mateo continues, gesturing to a man with dark hair and freckles.
“Hi Florian!” Noah says. “We play on the same line together.”
“Nice.”
Then Mateo introduces me to a tall man with dark curly hair. He is Troy and is the goalie. Then he introduces me to a smaller blond man named Jason and a larger blond man named Luke.
“Jason and I play on the same line with you too,” Luke tells me.
“Ah.”
I wonder what they’re thinking.
I swoop my arm around Mateo then pull him against my chest. My heart beats against his body, and slowly I calm.
My teammates stare.
“You’re really together,” Troy says finally. “Congratulations.”
I nod happily.
“I never would have thought it.” Troy furrows his brow.
“We tried to avoid each other in public,” Mateo says.
“Well, that explains it. You were excellent at avoiding each other,” Troy says.
I grin happily and kiss the top of Mateo’s head.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Mateo
“We should have dinner,” Florian’s mother says when the Blizzards’ players leave.
“The takeout menus are in the drawer beside the fridge,” Florian says.
