“Why does that matter?” He hums under his breath, glancing at the door then back to me like he suddenly isn’t certain we’re alone. “Oak. It’s not like he’s hanging outside the door listening.”
“You trust him?”
I roll my eyes, scowling at him. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t date someone I don’t trust.”
“What about someone you don’t know?” he asks, placing his mug down on the counter in front of him and meeting my eyes with his. The usual warmth hidden inside them is gone, and I’m a bit rattled at how cold he looks in this moment.
“I know Shiloh,” I reply. Well, I know enough for now I suppose. He is still full of secrets, but day by day I’m getting small glimpses of who he really is, and that’s enough. Shiloh’s a challenge and a puzzle, and peeling back the layers he’s built around himself hasn’t been a burden on our relationship so far. The opposite, actually.
“How much do you know about him, Donovan? Like, really know? What’s his middle name? Or even his last name? Where did he grow up? Has he told you any of those things?”
No.
He hasn’t.
I also haven’t asked, but there’s no way I’m confessing that much to Oakley. He’s got that glint in his eyes again, the one he only gets when he’s getting worked up. Usually it happens on theice before he flings his gloves off and starts throwing punches, but on rare occasions it sneaks out when it’s least expected.
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I sigh. “You’re being an impossible dickhead right now.”
Oakley moves to stand right in front of me, hardly giving me an inch to breathe. He’s a few inches shorter than me, not that I’d know it by the way he seems to tower over me in this moment. “Be careful, Donovan. I don’t trust that one at all.”
I sigh again, shaking my head. “Whatever, Oak. You don’t trust anyone.”
“Not true. I trust you. I trust my teammates. I don’t trust Shiloh. There’s something about him, Donovan. Something… dark and kind of… wild.”
“He’s not some kind of animal at the zoo.” I snort derisively as I cross my arms in front of me, shielding myself from whatever the hell has gotten into my best friend today. “He’s my boyfriend, and if I have it my way, he’ll be around for a long time, so you better get used to it.”
“I’ll kill him if he hurts you,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.
“Oakley!” I blurt out, surprised he’d go that far with whatever hate he’s suddenly got going for Shiloh. “Jesus Christ, he’s not going to hurt me. Would you fucking relax?”
Oakley goes silent, then offers a curt nod before turning away from me. I can see his jaw ticking still, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he used to do when he was little and was trying to not explode. He used to do it hard enough that he’d bleed, and his parents grew desperate enough to force him to wear his mouth guard off the ice on bad days to prevent him from ripping holes in his cheeks with his own teeth. He probably could have used some therapy or something, but the thought of even trying to get him to comply with something like that would have been like trying to bathe a feral cat.
“You’re chewing your face,” I point out, carefully reaching a finger out to poke him in the cheek.
“Fuck off,” he replies, smacking me away with a laugh that sends relief cascading through me. His dimple pops out as he offers me a smile. “Just… be careful.”
“I will be.”
“And if you ever need my help, you just gotta ask. You know that.”
I choose to ignore that last little implied dig at Shiloh and bite back the retort that lingers in my mind. I won’t need Oakley’s help because despite whatever he thinks, I’m not in any danger with Shiloh. I mean, it could end in heartbreak, but that’s the chance you take getting to know someone and letting them into your heart. My mom used to say that that’s sometimes the price of loving hard, and you have to be ready to pay it if you’re going to live a full life. Not that I love Shiloh, but I could.
I really could, someday.
“Oh God. You’re blushing,” Oakley groans, gesturing at my face. “You’re thinking about his dick.”
“Oakley.”
He nudges me with his elbow and heads for the living room. “Come on, loser. I came here to kick your ass inMortal Kombatand I only have two hours until I gotta be back at the arena.”
“I don’t have much time. I have practice and then a community event this afternoon,” I comment, following him to the living room.
“Hurry your ass up, then.”
Oakley offers a grin, then turns on the TV and grabs the PlayStation controllers from the stand before throwing one at me. I catch it as he turns the PlayStation on and settles down onto the couch. I follow behind, watching as he gets things started for us, then I relax into the routine of playing videogames with my best friend, trying my best to shove the rest of the morning to the back of my mind.
Helping Hearts sits at the tail end of a quiet street along the water, the walkway to the bright yellow front door slushy with melted snow as I follow the team’s social media coordinator. Behind me, Tucker trails like a puppy, walking so close to me I’m sure if I stop he’s going to bump into my back.
