“Good. Now tell me more about the sex. Scale of one to ten, how big is his—”
“Goodbye, Sabrina.”
“You’re no fun!”
I hung up on her cackling and stared at my phone for a long moment.
Then I opened my texts and started typing.
???
Which was how I ended up at a crowded dim sum place in Chinatown on Sunday morning. Me, Derek, Avery, Hana, and my mom crammed around a table with a revolving tray, the restaurant loud and chaotic around us.
The menu was a paper checklist with photos of the food, little boxes where you wrote the quantity of each dish you wanted. Avery and Hana had commandeered the ordering duties and were scribbling numbers with alarming enthusiasm.
“You know there’s only five of us?” I peered at the growing list of items. Har gow, siu mai, char siu bao, cheung fun, turnip cake, potstickers—
“Avery eats enough for at least three people,” Hana said without looking up.
“I’m a growing boy,” Avery said proudly, adding an order for five servings of shrimp and chive dumplings.
“You’re 22.”
“Still growing.”
My mom laughed and the sound loosened something tight in my chest. She looked good—rested, happy, her dark hair streaked with more silver than I remembered but her eyes bright. She’d arrived yesterday afternoon and so far the visit had been… okay. Better than okay. She hadn’t asked about my weight or my eating habits or whether I was sleeping enough. She’d just hugged me for a long time and told me she was proud of me.
I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Derek was seated next to me, close enough that our knees occasionally bumped under the table. He looked good. He hadn’t shaved since his injury and that was enough to fill in his beard and cover most of the bruising that still lingered on his face. He had shown up in a black leather jacket that had made me want to do unholy things to him. When he removed it to hang on the back of the chair, it wasn’t any better. Underneath he had on a black sweater that clung to his chest and emphasized his broad shoulders.
He’d been introduced as a friend of Avery’s and mine—teammate, mentor, the guy whose dog I watched sometimes. Derek played the part perfectly: friendly, easy, just enough charm without overdoing it.
“So, Derek,” my mom said, turning her attention to him as the first round of bamboo steamers arrived at the table. “Avery tells me you’ve been playing for the Frost for quite some time?”
“Seven years now, Ms. Lee,” Derek said. “Feels like I just started, though. The team keeps me young.” He smiled that warm, easy smile that made people trust him on instinct.
“Please, call me Sharon.” She waved away the formality. “And seven years—that’s wonderful. You must love it.”
“I do,” he said. “Hockey’s been my whole life since I was a kid. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“That kind of dedication is admirable.” Her gaze flicked to me and back to Derek. “It’s nice to see young people who are passionate about their work.”
“Avery and Théo are the same way,” Derek said and I stiffened slightly.
Her eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “Avery mentioned you wear a letter.”
Derek’s ears went faintly pink. “Alternate captain,” he confirmed. “For the last couple seasons.”
“Well.” My mom looked genuinely impressed, her posture straightening the way it did when she approved of something. “That’s not nothing.”
“It’s a letter,” Derek said, modest. “But it comes with responsibility. Keeping the room steady. Keeping guys level. Especially the younger ones.” He glanced at Avery and then back to Sharon. “This league can chew people up if you don’t have someone in your corner.”
Sharon nodded slowly. “Leadership suits you.”
Derek’s smile softened, almost shy. “Thank you. I try.”
“So you’ve seen my Théo skate?”
