He smiles, but it’s the one he uses when he’s not actually happy but wants you to think that he is.
“I guess the trainers think there’s room for both reliable skills and a bit of flash. But we agreed to keep work at work, so maybe we should save this conversation for the rink.”
He’s right, we did agree to that, but apparently my brain didn’t get the message because the next thing out of my mouth is, “When those flashy moves lose us the puck and the game, what then?”
Luka stands and holds up his hands.
“Look, I think maybe tonight was a bad idea. We’re both tired, we’ve got the game tomorrow, so we should probably get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you at the rink,” he says as he walks out of the kitchen. I watch him leave, transfixed on the doorway, wondering why the hell I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. We had a good thing going; we had a deal to keep our work and our extracurricular activities separate, so why did I have to push?
“I think it’s done,” David says, startling me out of my haze, and I look down at his smoking, charred steak.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” I say, switching down the flame and moving the steak to the chopping board. “Do you think it’s still okay?”
He reaches over and picks it up with the tongs, tapping the side of the steak on the chopping board with a tap tap tap.
“Yeah, no. Even Benji doesn’t like it that well done. Do we have another one, because I’m not sharing?”
“Luka couldn’t stay, so I’ll toss his on for a bit longer.”
“That sucks. Everything’s cool with you two, right?” David asks, poking the top of the breadcrumb crust on the mac and cheese. It splits, and burning-hot cheese sauce coats his finger, and he shoves it into his mouth.
“Yeah. We’re good,” I say, hoping to hell that isn’t a lie, because I feel like I only just started this thing with Luka, and I’m really not ready to let that feeling go.
Chapter twenty-five
Luka
Ican’tbelieveReidisn’t even a little bit excited for me that the trainers want to look at some of my plays in closer detail. Actually, I can. He’s so fixed in his ways about everything on the ice. In the bedroom, he’s open to everything, but put a hockey stick in his hands and a wall goes right up. It can’t just be a fear of losing, cause the team has had its share of losses before I even got here.
“You’re home early,” Mom says as I hang my keys by the door.
“Yeah, I figured I should get a good night’s sleep, you know, with the game tomorrow and everything.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason?” she asks, pulling out a covered dish from the refrigerator. “Sit. I’ll fix you a plate.”
“It’s not the only reason, but it’s the only one I can talk about.”
She frowns. “I doubt that. Come on, you’ll feel better once you get it off your chest.”
I sit on a stool and rest my head in my hands, and she loads up the plate with chicken and roast vegetables, then pops it in the microwave.
“Come on, kid, let it out. It’s about someone you’ve been seeing, isn’t it?” she asks, and I look up to find her knowing smile.
“He’s just so . . . stubborn,” I sigh.
“Uh-huh.”
“I know what you’re going to say,” I continue as the microwave beeps and she pulls out my plate.
“And that is?”
“I should look at why he’s being stubborn and not just whine about it,” I tell her, and I take a bite of chicken. It’s hot and perfectly seasoned and tastes just the way it always does when Mom cooks it. Maybe that’s the real reason I haven’t really looked for a place of my own yet.
“So?” she presses.
“I guess he’s technically doing his job.”
“And you want him to disregard his job to make you happy?”
