Lenyx cups his hands and calls out to his retreating back. “Diglett?”
“I’m not going to name my kid after a shitty Pokémon!” Knight hollers back.
Viktor scoffs at Lenyx. “I mean,obviously.Who names their kid Diglett? If you’re going to name your kid after a Pokémon, it’s Pikachu or bust.”
“Oh, my God.” Lenyx presses his hands to his cheeks and makes puppy dog eyes. “Human baby Pikachu? That’s the cutest thing ever. I bet they make Pikachu onesies, too. You could dress Pikachuas Pikachu.Can you imagine?”
The rest of the guys stop what they’re doing, presumably because they are all imagining exactly that.
“Fucking adorable,” Adler agrees.
“Too bad, you can’t have it. I’m calling dibs on Baby Pikachu.”
Adler slams his locker. “How about this? Whichever one of us becomes a dad first gets dibs on the name.”
“Fair,” Lenyx agrees.
They shake on it.
Morning skate goes smoothly. I can feel Remy’s eyes on me the whole time. The rest of the team keeps calling out random names all morning, getting more and more absurd with each suggestion. Coach shakes his head at their antics. I try to think of a funny clapback, but it’s hard to come up with anything when I’m both totally focused on Remy’s presence and simultaneously doing my best to ignore it.
Every time I steal a glance, she’s laser-focused on me. I want to make her proud of me. I want to earn her trust.
I want to prove that she’s right about me. To be worthy of her attention.
Which is a dangerous place to be, considering she’s supposed to be fixing me, not rooting for me.
Halfway through the morning, a rookie slams into me, hard enough that he nearly takes us both out. I manage to catch him and steady him.
“Sorry,” he says in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“I know. Shit happens.” I thump him on the back. “Don’t worry about it.”
And it’s fine. It’s all good. Nobody makes it weird, Dante doesn’t come crawling out of the woodwork to scream in my face, and the other players don’t come rushing over to defend our teammate from the big bad goalie.
The next time I catch Remy’s eye, she nods her approval. Which is good. It doesn’t mean anything. She sees it. That I didn’t react. That I stayed in control.
And it definitely doesn’t make my heart beat double-time inside my chest.
Chapter Ten
Remy
The team lunch at the Puck Drop didn’t sound so bad when Renee described it, but that’s because I haven’t been to a sports bar since college. I forgot how loud and sticky they can be.
In its defense, the Puck Drop is much nicer than the skeevy hole-in-the-wall I frequented in my younger, poorer days. The menu is impressive. Instead of endless taps of PBR and Miller Lite, the bar boasts a selection of craft-brew options, local liquors, a decent wine list, and limoncello that, according to the signs over the bar, is made in-house. It could be worse.
Unfortunately, the clientele is less upscale. The dining room is loud and chaotic, full of giant men yelling at each other as they get increasingly tipsy. I immediately feel outnumbered. Other than Renee, I’m the only woman at the table.
Not professionally. I can handle a room like this in my sleep. But socially? That’s a different equation, and right now, I’m the only variable that doesn’t fit.
Owen saved me a seat beside him. That shouldn’t matter. It’s practical. Efficient. Exactly what I would have done in his position. It still lands strangely. I slip into the chair next to him, and he gives me a curt nod. Brief. Controlled. Like he’s already decided how much of himself he’s willing to give me today. There are empty spaces to my right, though the empty appetizer plates and the water glasses make it clear that someone’s staked their claim already.
“Am I late?” I ask Owen. I sound like I’m whispering, but that’s only because all the volume in the room is so high.
He shakes his head. “No, I just got here.”
Three guys return from the bar to reclaim their seats. Adler is part of the group, and the moment he sees me, he says something to one of his friends. Ugh, I bet he’s going to switch seats. Because nothing about this situation is going to stay simple.
