Compliments still hit me like unexpected body checks. I never really know what to do with them.
Viktor squeezes my neck until he’s got me shy of a chokehold. “You’re kind of shit at taking compliments, Rourke.”
“Well, I’m not—”Used to them, I almost say.But that would sound pathetic as shit, so I go with, “I’m not fishing for compliments.” After a beat, I add, “Unlike Knight.”
My dad used to say compliments made people soft. That if you needed praise to function, you were already weak.
“Fuckingwhat!” Knight lifts both hands in the air. “What did I do?”
“Showboat,” I say. “All the damn time.”
The other guys bray with laughter, making Knight pout harder by the second. I don’t say much. I never do. But for the first time since I threw that punch, I feel like I belong here.
That feeling is unfamiliar enough to make me almost suspicious of it.
* * *
I end up paired with Tristan for the flight home, which is a relief. He’s a lot more comfortable with silence than guys like Viktor and Adler are. I let him have the window seat so that I can stretch into the aisle. Within minutes of hitting altitude, he’s slumped against the side of the plane.
While he snores, I connect to the plane’s Wi-Fi and take a peek at the usual fan blogs. It’s good news: people are saying positive things. Almost none of the blogs and articles I click through evenmentionthe upset from earlier this season, and when they do, it’s only to suggest that I’ve turned things around.
My phone buzzes with a text, and an icon of my mom’s smiling face appears in the top corner.
Mama Bird: So proud of you, Owen!
Mama Bird:I watched your game at the bar down the street
Mama Bird:Some dipshit tried to bet against you
Mama Bird:You know I don’t believe in gambling, but I bet him for drinks, and you’d better believe I ordered nothing but double Grey Goose and cranberries all night
Mama Bird:That’ll teach him to bet against my baby!
I chuckle as my phone continues to vibrate. How does she text so fast? She’s like that in person, too. She talks enough for both of us.
Owen:I miss you, Ma.
Mama Bird:Come home for Mother’s Day!!!
My hands fist unexpectedly at the thought. Mother’s Day is right in the middle of the playoffs. Will the Venom be in the thick of it? I don’t know yet. Home used to feel complicated. Lately, it mostly feels far away.
Mama Bird:You can put a hurting on that loudmouth at Jay’s
Mama Bird:Just kidding, violence is never the answer
Mama Bird:But the good Lord has nothing to say about glaring, so we can glare at him instead
Owen:But then who will pay for your top-shelf vodka sodas?
Mama Bird:
Mama Bird:Good point!!!
“Hey.” Sergio claps a hand over my shoulder on his way past my seat. The sudden contact nearly makes me drop my phone in alarm. When I lift my head, though, he’s smiling, and I force myself to relax.
“What’s up, boss?” I ask.
“Hell of a performance, Rourke.” He thumps my shoulder a few times.
