And now that Maria is living—albeit temporarily—in a bigger place, she’s stepping into it, hosting the WAGs, building real friendships instead of hovering on the edges. Hosting was my idea. At first, she looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
But then I reminded her that everyone takes turns hosting. No pressure. No expectations. Just food, drinks, and people who get it. And when I mentioned she could cook—her love language—that sealed it.
Now she’s got a house full of women, her mom there too, probably making sure nobody leaves hungry. I grin to myself, pulling my phone out and turning it over in my hands. Running my thumb along the edge.
Is she waiting for me to call?
It’s not weird if I call…right?
I mean, I’ve got valid reasons.
I need to see how Josh did on his geometry test. That’s important. Academic support. Very responsible. And Marbles—sure, technically he’s their cat, but let’s be honest—I’m financially and emotionally invested at this point. That’s basically shared custody.
Yeah. Totally normal.
Dude. Just call her.
“Hey.”
I glance up to see Nicklas sliding into the seat across from me.
“What’s up, Nicklas?”
He’s usually riding the high after a win—already halfway to planning his next bad decision. But tonight, he seems quieter.
“You calling home?” he asks, nodding toward my phone.
And there it is. Something in his voice. Not teasing. Not curious. Something else.
“Yeah,” I say casually, lifting one shoulder. “I have to check on Marbles.”
He snorts, a faint grin breaking through, because he knows that’s total bullshit. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Marbles.”
“First of all, not my cat,” I correct. “And Lucas named him.”
That earns a small nod, but then he goes quiet again. Too quiet.
I study him for a second before asking, “You calling home?”
His gaze drops instantly. He leans forward, tapping the seat in front of him, his leg bouncing like he’s got too much energy and nowhere to put it.
“Nah,” he says after a beat. “Don’t got a ball and chain, you know that.”
The words are light. The tone isn’t. And it hits me then. I’ve never actually thought about Nicklas’ family before. He joined the team last year, fresh out of Boston College, all talent and swagger and zero backstory.
No one calling after games. No one waiting on the other end of the line. I frown slightly, leaning back in my seat as that realization settles in. Honestly, I’m the captain, it’s my responsibility to make sure my guys are okay—even when they pretend they are.
“Your family is still in Iowa?” I ask, carefully drawing him into conversation.
Nicklas nods, dragging a hand down his face like he’s trying to wipe something away. “Yeah.” That’s it. One word. Full stop. Not exactly an open invitation, but I push anyway.
“I meant to ask…do you have siblings?”
A small smile tugs at his mouth—quick, almost like it surprised him. “Yeah. A sister. Like you.”
“Yeah? She still in Iowa?”
He shakes his head, gaze drifting past me, out the window like there’s something written in the dark he’s trying to read. “Yeah, she’s…we don’t really talk much. Not like you and Kate.”
