“That’ssofucking stupid of you,” I sniffle, bringing up one arm to wipe a sleeve over my nose.
“You’re terrible at this, Hoff. Normal people would say it back now,” he lectures me, but I can hear the tremor in his voice.
“Bold of you to assume I feel the same.”
“So you don’t?”
I meant to tease, but the insecurity in Xander’s voice makes my stomach hurt. I think back to our conversation in my parents’ kitchen, of the kid trying to be the polka-dotted puppy, and it’s then that I realize I can’t pretend anymore. Can’t let him go thinking I never loved him back, even when I will have to let him go all the same.
I drop my duffel bag to the pavement, then take a step forward, my hands reaching for his. They’re barely peeking out from under the loose sleeves of his sweater. It’s such a ridiculously sweet sight on him it makes me want to press a pillow to his face. How dare he look cute at this moment?
“Of course I love you, Lexi. I’ve never managed to get you out of my system.”
“You don’t have to get me out of your system. Not ever.”
Xander’s arms are around me, pulling me toward him, and I allow myself to be engulfed by him. There’s not a part of my body that doesn’t ache, but his embrace soothes the pain.
“Yes, I do have to. How will I function when you’re a thousand miles away but the first thing on my mind every morning? How will I play hockey when all I want to do is watch your games and pick on your mistakes?”
Xander snorts at that and the sound—half laughing, half crying—is so absurd that I almost choke on my own snot.
“You can always record my mistakes,” Xander suggests, his hands cupping my face. “But you also could be right there for them.”
I frown, ready to protest when he puts a finger against my lips.
“You don’t know they won’t sign you yet, Nicko. Your season barely ended a few hours ago. But even if they won’t, we can make it work.”
I close my eyes, trying to picture what that would look like—making it work with Xander. Possibly across different time zones, maybe even across different continents.
“What if no one here signs me? What if I have to leave the US?”
“Then I’ll talk to you the whole night and show up very tired to a lot of morning skates, but it will be worth it, Nicko. We are worth it.” There’s a resoluteness to his tone that almost tricks me into believing he’s right. That we could have a chance.
Almost.
“This is crazy, Lexi.You’recrazy. You deserve someone who can be right here with you and support you, someone who has the guts to be out with you in public. And I’m not that. After everything...I’m not ready.”
“But do you think you could be ready in the future? One day?”
“I hope so, but–”
“Thenyoudeserve someone who waits with you until you’re there, Nicko. I would never ask you to come out when you’re feeling unsafe. Or force you to give up your dream for me. There’s room for all of it. And if not, we will make room.”
My head is spinning with all of the possibilities he’s painting right now. Having both at the same time—Xander and hockey. I know it can’t be as easy as he describes it. But I want it.
God, do I want it.
“I hope your signing bonus was huge,” I tell him with a wobbly grin, then huff when he just raises an eyebrow at me. This will never not annoy me.
“You know, to cover the bill from all the late-night phone sex?”
Xander just stares at me for a moment and then, just as I think he might have changed his mind, he kisses me. Not once, not twice, but all over. Tiny little pecks that cover my eyelids and nose, my forehead and brows, my jawline and chin, until I have to fight him off with laughter.
“Oh, I’ll pay for every one of your phone bills from now on,” he declares, and I snort at that very short-sighted promise.
“Nate will be happy to hear that. Now come on, I’m fucking starving, so you can start with paying for dinner.”
“So romantic,” he sighs, but then he jogs up the sidewalk to where I dropped my bag while I already trot up the porch steps.
