“Yeah? I mean, yesterday wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I let out a puff of air. I wanted to say it had been a nightmare. That it was so awful Tucker had to pull whatever strings he could to end this ambassador crap, but the truth was, I’d had fun.
A lot of fun.
And then I’d…well.
Clearing my throat, I ran from the memory of Alexio, leading Tucker into the building and to the elevator. I’d taken the stairs last time, and as I felt over the braille numbers and hit the button for my dad’s floor, the car gave a loud whine and lurched.
“Fuck,” Tucker gasped. “If we plummet to our deaths, just know I’ve always loved you.”
“Jackass,” I murmured, and he laughed.
Luckily, there were no tragic elevator accidents that morning. The doors opened with a loud groan, and I stepped into the hallway, immediately lost since I’d come by stairs the last time I was there, and when Alexio had taken me, I wasn’t paying close attention.
“Uh, 4B,” I told Tucker. “Do you see it?”
He was quiet, then tapped my hand, and I slid my fingers over his elbow. “This way. God, this place smells…”
“Funky. Yeah. Not as bad as Tiago’s gym bag during playoffs, but this is a little ripe,” I admitted.
Tucker snorted. “We need to stage an intervention this year if we make it.”
Normally, I’d smack him upside the head and tell him we would absolutely fucking make it, but I wasn’t convinced. From what I’d read online, two of the three Boston hockey teams were having a shit year. I was starting to wonder if someone had put a curse on the arena or something because only Boden’s team was having a decent start.
And in all honesty, it was hard to give a shit. The idea of trying to manage playoffs and all the crap with my dad was making my stomach feel like it did the time Micah had convinced me to eat gas station taquitos.
“Here,” Tucker said. “Should I knock, or?—”
Before he could get the rest of the sentence out, I felt the telltale whoosh of a door opening, then smelled very, very familiar cologne.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me. What the fuck are you doing here, Brut?”
“Fuck off, I?—”
“Oh my god, is my best friend!”
My heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of my chest. “Vanya?”
There was a scuffle, and then the big, familiar hands that had been propelling me around all yesterday morning were back on me. Vanya tugged me into a hug. His body was a lot smaller when he wasn’t in his pads, but he still had terrifyingly large biceps.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I stammered.
“Alexio and I have meeting at the arena. I tag along to visit his friend first.”
Humiliation crawled up my spine, and I swallowed back my fury. It was one thing that Alexio kept showing up here. It was quite a-fucking-nother to know he was bringing guys from his team to my dad’s place. And for what, exactly?
To humiliate me?
To try and prove I was neglecting him?
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves because I didn’t want to upset Vanya. “It’s good to see you, bud. But, uh…I have an appointment here with my dad.”
“What appointment?” Alexio demanded just as Vanya said, “This your dad?”
My brows flew up, and I turned to face his voice. “Yes, this is my dad, and that’s none of your fucking business, is it, Brut?”
“Considering that I’m the one who?—”
