“Yeah. He is.” Étienne laced his fingers through mine. “But your mother isn’t. She’s just worried about you. And maybe a little bit in your business, but—” He shrugged. “That’s what mothers do when they love you.”
I squeezed his hand, guilt settling heavy in my chest. “I’ve taken her for granted.”
“Maybe.”
“My father called too,” Étienne said finally. “After the game.”
I’d figured as much. “What did he say?”
“The usual. That I played terribly, the trade rumors are everywhere, I’m embarrassing him.” His voice was flat, matter of fact. “That I need to fix whatever’s wrong with me or I’ll be gone by Christmas.”
“Étienne—”
“He’s not wrong about the trade rumors.” He pulled his hand away, ran it through his hair.
“You’re working on it?—”
“Working on it isn’t enough.” He looked at me, his eyes dark with turmoil. “Marco, what if I can’t fix this?”
“You will.”
“But if I don’t?—”
“Then we’ll figure it out.” I caught his hand again, held it tight. “But you’re not getting traded. You’re going to turn this around.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“Then borrow mine until you find your own again.”
He managed a smile, small and fragile. “Deal.”
I pulled him closer, and he came easily, settling against me. We sat like that for a while, both of us wrapped up in our own thoughts about families and secrets and all the ways this could fall apart.
Étienne tugged on my hand, pulling me toward him.
“Come here.”
I went, letting him pull me into his arms. “You have practice in an hour.”
His hand slid under my shirt, palm warm against my skin. “Plenty of time to shower.”
“Together?”
“Saves water.” His grin was wicked. “Very environmentally conscious.”
Despite everything, I smiled. “Very.”
The shower was an exercise in restraint.
Étienne’s hands roamed as he helped me wash, fingers trailing over my shoulders, down my back, across my chest. Not quite innocent, not quite leading anywhere we didn’t have time for.
I returned the favor, skimming the landscape of his body under the spray of hot water. The curve of his spine, themuscles of his shoulders, the sensitive spot just below his ear that made him shiver.
“We should stop,” I said, even as my hands continued their exploration.
“Probably.” His mouth found my neck. “We should definitely stop.”
“You have practice.”
