“So what are we gonna do about this?”
For a half a second, Ramsey wondered if he was suggesting they sleep together again. And for that half a second his body sat up and begged, sayingyes please, but then he reminded it why that was a terrible fucking idea.
Before he realized that of fucking course that wasn’t what Nate was saying at all.
“You mean, how do we co-exist in the same universe?” Ramsey asked.
Nate frowned. “Why on earth wouldyouhave any trouble? Were you that pissed that I was a football player?”
To Ramsey’s own surprise, he found himself more than a little desperate to admit that had nothing to do with it at all. He had a strict no football player policy—but if he’d been a guy on the Bills or the Jets or the Giants, he’d have made a gracious exception.
But no, Nate wasn’t on the Bills or the Jets or the Giants. He wasright here, on Wes’ team, and therefore unavoidable. And Ramsey knew himself well enough to know he’d definitely want to avoid him at some point.
He always did.
“Ask my friend Brody. I have a strict no football players policy. I love brawn, but evenIneed some brains,” Ramsey said flippantly, instead of any of the confessions he wasn’t going to admit.
“God, you kinda are a selfish, superficial asshole, aren’t you?” Nate said. Still frowning. Like he’d actually believed otherwise, and it was a kick to the gut to realize differently.
Well, the sooner Nate Bishop believed the Ramsey he presented to the world, the easier it would be to slough him off, same as Ramsey did everyone else.
“Sure, yeah,” Ramsey said, deploying the smile, again.
Nate just shook his head. “God, I was so wrong about you.”
Yes. Yes, you were.
Maybe if Nate believed it, he’d steer clear. Make sure when they did run into each other, unavoidably, that he didn’t bother even looking in Ramsey’s direction.
Ramsey nodded. “Yep, you sure were.”
Nate’s face freezing into dismissal shouldn’t have hurt. Him walking away shouldn’t have hurt. But Ramsey watched him go and thought,it doesn’t hurt.
But it did, deep down in a place where Ramsey shoved all that unpleasant and difficult emotion that he didn’t know how to parse. The way it felt growing up without a single person who’d given a shit about him, lost in the foster system. When he’d realized that Daniel Hood, his foster dad at nine, only gave a shit about him because he was good at hockey. He’d never been a son to Dan, only a means to an end. The incurable loneliness until he’d figured out that a hockey team could also be a family, but only if he always made sure he was in control of it.
The devastation when he’d lost the one thing he’d ever really wanted to that last concussion.
He was still determined to get it all back, but unlike people, Ramsey didn’t have control over his brain. He couldn’t force it to heal.
And even if it did, he’d never get these years—the best years of his career—back. He was comfortable financially now, but money had always come fairly easily to him. Even in juniors, he’d played cards to win. That hadn’t changed in college.
The new contract he’d signed a month before the last concussion had ensured he’d never worry about his bank account again, but Ramsey still thought he might trade that financial stability to be back on the ice.
But nobody knew that but him. Not Brody. Not even Wes.
Nobody, just him. And if he kept burying it down, kept reinforcing his walls so nobody could see deep enough within them, then even he didn’t have to know that either.
Chapter 3
September
It had been a great team win—everyone contributing to the thirty-four to ten victory over the Houston Texans—so Nate wasn’t surprised when Aidan announced they’d be going as a team to Vault.
Nate didn’t want to go to Vault. He’d done a fairly decent job over the first few weeks of the season avoiding Ramsey. Wes tended to bring him, but usually only in bigger groups and usually only when they all ended up at Vault.
There was no question if Wes would show. He was as much part of this team as anyone else, even if Aidan seemed determined to make sure he stayed on the sideline, holding his clipboard.
Nate stared at his reflection in the mirror in his bathroom and tried to justify to himself not showing up. But it was the fourth game of the year and the Thunders’ fourth win. It wasn’t a huge win streak but it was significant enough to be worth celebrating, and if he was absent, it would be noted.
