Tyoma had flown in last night, so I knew tonight was the night. I was a little pissed that a party was the first time I’d get to meet his terrifying brother, but maybe that was for the best.
“We’re home,” Vanya said.
I was tempted to let him have the surprise, but I was still on edge from everything, and I knew he’d forgive me. “How many cars in the driveway?”
He groaned as the car came to a rolling stop. “How did you know?”
“Because while I love the absolute fucking shit out of you,” I said, “you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”
He groaned again but reached over and tugged me into a kiss. “Fine. Is everyone we love, okay?”
“My brothers?”
“Mm. Jonah and Alexio get everything set up. Caleb even coming over.”
There had been an undeniable shift between all three of us since our mom left, but it was finally starting to repair. Especially now that for me, hockey was over.
We were all crawling on hands and knees toward something that made us who we were. Caleb had found part of his in his art and metal-smithing. Jonah was still trying to decide if hockeywas something he loved or something he was using to escape.
And I…well, I still had no idea who I was outside of the group chat troll who had an uncanny ability to find the weirdest porn that people got addicted to watching.
But I was working on it. Vanya had joked about me becoming an architect for accessible homes, and at the time, I’d laughed. But now, I was wondering if maybe it was something I could do. I’d designed our house renovations, after all, and maybe…
Maybe that was a thing I could do.
I had time to decide.
I was barely reaching thirty, and I had the whole world in front of me, my past behind me, and Vanya pressed against my side, vowing to never let go.
I took his arm as we made our way toward the door, and I could hear voices beyond. Luckily, no one was ridiculous enough to suggest an actual surprise party, so I was met with a massive hug from arms I immediately recognized.
“I’m so proud of you,” Hugo whispered fiercely.
I knew he understood. He’d coached for a short while, but his experience with hockey mostly revolved around the man who made the PPHL possible. And I knew it was both pride and pain that kept him involved in it now.
“Thank you. That was harder than I expected.” I wasn’t really ready to process the way letting my jersey go made me feel. I’d do that later.
In private.
Where I could ugly cry and just let myself feel without anyone trying to comfort me.
The rest of my friends were all next—almost like a line of men who had spent the last several years reminding me that life was worth living. Most of them were happy now. In love. Moving on from whatever pain had once held them by the throats.
Tiago was last in the line. He smelled like Jonah had—fresh from the showers that only barely washed away the sweat from the season’s opener.
He didn’t seem too sore that they lost.
“Did you invite that fucking fucker?” he asked.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I told him.
He groaned. “Ava or Ara or whatever his name is. That reporter guy who was there the night Vanya—” He stopped abruptly.
It had been over a year, but it was still a tender spot.
“That was probably Vanya. He and Ara are kind of friendly now.”
“Fucking gross,” Tiago spat. “That dude has spent all year basically accusing me of not being actually blind.”
