We won our game against Jersey, 4-2. I had an assist on Volsky’s second period goal and managed to stay out of the penalty box, which felt like a victory in itself given how distracted I’d been lately. Tomorrow we’d head to Philly for the next leg of the road trip.
After the game, I showered quickly and checked my phone while the guys were still celebrating in the locker room.
Théo usually texted frequent updates and photos of Aspen while I was away—candid shots of him sprawled on the couch, videos of him chasing his tail, the occasional selfie where Aspen’s tongue was mid-lick across Théo’s cheek. But since Sabrina had arrived, he’d been quieter than usual. Just one photo today: Aspen mid-stride, ears perked toward the camera. No reflection in the frame this time. I wondered if he’d remembered his hat.
At least I hoped the silence was because she was visiting and not because he was avoiding me.
I scrolled through my notifications and saw that he’d been tagged in an Instagram photo. When I clicked on it, I couldn’t help smiling.
Théo was rolling his eyes while a grinning Sabrina held up a plate with a giant cinnamon roll, a neon sign reading “Get Stuffed” glowing pink in the background. He wasn’t smiling in the photo but he looked lighter than he usually did. Something about the set of his jaw was softer, the tension in his shouldersless pronounced. I was glad she was there to put some ease back into his eyes.
I clicked on her stories next.
The first was a selfie of her sipping on a latte. The second was a video of her skating around an unfamiliar rink with wood paneled walls and old banners hanging from the rafters. She was laughing, the camera shaky as she spun in a wobbly circle.
And at the tail end of the video, at the far side of the rink, was a familiar figure. Dark hair, long sleeved shirt, making slow circles on the ice. The video ended before I could get a better look.
I clicked on her stories again to rewatch it. Paused on the last frame, squinting at the blurry shape of him.
Where had they gone? Had he finally called that coach? I wished I had the right to ask.
I stared at my phone for a long moment, thumb hovering over our text thread. The last message was still mine.
Have fun with Sabrina. Try not to cause too much trouble, snowdrop. Give Aspen a belly rub for me.
He hadn’t responded to the text. Just sent the photo of Aspen like that was the end of it.
Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was having fun with his best friend and didn’t want to think about the complicated thing between us. Maybe he was figuring out his shit, just like I was trying to figure out mine.
Or maybe he was trying to let me down gently and I was too stupid to see it.
“Sully!” Petrov’s voice cut through my spiral. “Bus leaves in ten. Stop staring at your phone like lovesick teenager.”
I shoved it in my pocket. “I’m not lovesick.”
“Sure you’re not.” He grabbed his bag and headed for the door. “And I am not hungover.”
I followed him out but my mind stayed on that blurry figure making circles on the ice.
???
When I returned on Friday, Théo was bracketed on the couch by Sabrina and Aspen when I walked through the door. Aspen quickly hopped off to greet me, tail wagging furiously, and I dropped to my knees to bury my hands in his soft fur. It gave me something to do so I wouldn’t do something stupid like reach for Théo.
He followed more slowly, unfolding himself from the couch with that careful grace. Sabrina trailed behind him, watching us both with undisguised curiosity.
“Thanks for watching him,” I said, straightening up. “I hope it didn’t affect your visit too much, Sabrina.”
“Thanks for letting me stay here.” She glanced around the apartment with an approving nod. “Avery’s bachelor pad has a distinct smell.”
“I live there too and it does not!” Théo protested.
“You know what they say about living in a monkey house...”
“Shut up or you’re gonna be sleeping at a hotel tonight.”
She laughed, bright and unbothered. “I thought you would agree with me, the way you kept sniffing the pillows.”
Théo flushed—actually flushed, pink creeping up his neck and across his cheekbones. He looked sheepish in a way I had never seen him, caught off guard for once instead of armored in that sharp defensiveness.
