He definitely cramped my style, but he also definitely kept me out of jail. Listening to him was never a bad idea.
“Well, I still don’t buy his story that he didn’t know about Peter. I mean, three sons, and none of them knew he was on his own like this?”
Nikos let out a slow breath. “Maybe. I don’t know. He seemed really shaken up.”
I really hadn’t noticed. I’d been too distracted by the blood running down his face, then consumed with guilt because that had been my fault. Then I was pissed off because he had a smart fucking mouth and gorgeous lips, and…
No. Fuck.
I had to stop.
“Well, whatever. I’m going to hang up now.”
“Is your coach going to be?—”
I ended the call before he could finish his question. I did that a lot though, so he was used to it. I had room to be a better brother, but that was a future Alexio problem. Walking into the kitchen, I started Peter’s kettle, then dropped into the kitchen chair and looked at my missed calls.
Noah was four of them.
I debated about leaving him on delivered, but that was only going to delay the inevitable. I hit his name and waited as it rang. And rang. And rang.
And rang.
“Zeki.”
Damn. I was hoping it was going to go to voicemail. “I can’t make it tonight.”
“So you dragged my happy ass down to the arena on a game night?—”
“PPHL game. Don’t tell me there’s not enough parking.”
He sighed into the phone. “You don’t need to be such a dick about it, Zek.” I hated when he called me that, but it was better than him using my given name. “They’re a good team.”
I wouldn’t know. I’d never watched out of protest that we lost so much of our ice time. Last month, I’d had to skate out my sprained ankle recovery at the kiddie rink thirteen miles from the arena. Like I had that kind of time to spare.
“I don’t want to be your damn ambassador, okay? It’s not going to work for me.”
“Well, you don’t get to decide that,” Noah said. “As a matter of fact, Sunday afternoon, you, Lindy, and Maximov are going to one of their practices. There’s going to be a piece done on it. You’ll get to see what it’s like to skate and shoot pucks blind.”
“What the fuck?” My stomach clenched. I was grateful I wouldn’t be doing it alone, but was he serious? He could not be serious. He wanted us to what? Make fools of ourselves?
“Relax. They’re not going to take your fucking eyes out, man. You’ll just wear some goggles and let them spin you around the ice for a while. It’s good PR. They need it. We need it.”
What the fuck was he talking about? Since when did we need good PR? We were doing fine. “Fuck you, Noah.”
“Not interested. Anyway, have a good night, and don’t call me to the arena again unless you plan to show up.”
That motherfucker. I nearly threw my phone across the room, but Peter gave a loud snore, and I remembered I wasn’t there alone. Shit. I had way too much to do besides babysit this old man, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t ask Nikos to come by, and it was obvious that Jonah’s family wasn’t going to help.
Fuck, wasn’t there some kind of service to help with this sort of thing? I could make some calls. I’d pay, for Christ’s sake. I had money in one of my investment accounts doing nothing but collecting interest. I hadn’t done what all the other rookies did when I was drafted and spent my entire signing bonus on some posh apartment with a fucking hot tub and a car I’d never drive.
Well, okay, I spent my money on my car. My Land Rover was my baby. But I did drive it, and I wasn’t like the other dipshits who totaled theirs after a long night at a bar.
So I could do this for Peter if I had to.
He seemed like he was a good guy, and I was struggling to understand the beef his sons had with him. All he did was brag all day long about his boys, so…
BAM BAM!
