“You didn’t even know he was missing until an hour ago,” Wagner argues.
“I wasn’t missing,” Mickey says, flopping down on the sofa. “I was in Chicago.
For a second, there’s total silence.
“Chicago?” Dime asks. “Like, the city?”
“No, dumbass,” Flo says, smacking his buddy upside the head. “He’s been watching the musical for five days straight. Yes, the freaking city.”
The guys bicker for a few more minutes, but I’m not really tuned in. I’m looking at Mickey.
But he’s not looking at me. It’s like I don’t even exist. I want to melt into the carpet or discover a secret trap door that will get me out of here, but there’s no escape that would go unnoticed, and I don’t want to cause a scene. I’ve done that already.
“Dude,” JT says, “what were you doing in Chicago?”
Mickey’s smile lights up the whole room. “They had a showcase for the European League, and, uh, it’s a total mindfuck, but I’ve got some really good news. I got selected by Poland.”
No one says a word or makes a sound.
And then, after about thirty seconds, everybody talks at once. I only hear snippets, but I pick up enough.
I hear Dime’s voice first. “Poland? Like the country, or like?—”
“No, like the fucking spring water. Yes, like the country,” Flo says, giving Dime’s head another swat.
“Is Roscoe a lawyer yet?” Ollie asks.
“I’m already on it. Don’t worry, Mick,” Dutton says, “we’ll get you out of this scam.”
By now, Mickey’s up off the couch and heading for the kitchen. At Dutton Wagner’s words, he turns his head. “It’s not a scam. It’s legit. It’s an international league, and?—”
“Did they give you a name?” Wagner asks. “That might help us track these assholes down.”
“There are no assholes, except maybe for you,” Mickey says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaves the room and steps into the kitchen.
While he’s gone, the guys continue to argue while Blue’s searching something up on his laptop. “Holy fuckballs,” he says on a laugh. “It’s legit, and we’re the assholes. Look, there’s even footage of the showcase. And there’s our boy, lucky number thirteen.”
Then, like it’s been choreographed, they all get out their phones and search away. While they’re comparing notes and screenshots, I decide to take action and head into the kitchen. I’m not the least bit prepared, but here goes nothing.
I step across the threshold to find Mickey digging through the fridge. He fishes out a carton of eggs, a block of cheese, and some veggies. While he sorts through his bounty, I see my opening, and I take it.
“So,” I start, leaning against the counter. “Poland, huh?”
He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything for a minute. It’s strange to be in a room with him, but not be touching. It’s strange that we’re barely talking when we used to have so much to talk about.
Finally, he speaks. “Yeah. Poland.”
“Wow,” I say, shocked by everything that’s happened in the last fifteen minutes, maybe even in the past week.
“Yep,” he says, curtly, grabbing a cutting board for the veggies. I wonder if he’s going to stay quiet, but when he opens his mouth, I have my answer.
“I mean, what else was I gonna do, Viv? I don’t even want the degree I’m supposed to be earning, and I’m a year behind on credits as it is. So, school is pretty much out, “ he explains.
I want to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but I don’t get a chance.
“My other option is hockey,” he tells me, chopping the onion with more force than necessary, “and I’m good, but I’m not Dutton Wagner good. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to play my ass off as long as I can. Turns out, the EU league is really competitive. And they want me. And I’m not gonna lie. It feels really good to be wanted. So…yeah.”
That hits hard. “Wanting you wasn’t the problem, Mickey. I was the problem. My past was the problem. I was so scared of losing you, and I thought if I didn’t put a label on it, then we could just stay in that perfect little bubble.”
