I lean forward. “It’s massive.”
“But he doesn’t want it yet,” Gianna says, and Lucy nods in agreement. “We heard him talking about it. He wants to finish the season strong with the boys and go pro on his timeline. He kept mentioning how nobody ever asks him what he wants, and he wants to win the national championship with the boys.”
Lucy nods. “I’ve had a lot of talks with Benson about this. It’s been his and Stanley’s goal since they were freshmen.”
“And I vouch for that because I’m his sister. Benson is the captain, and he is determined to end this year on a bang.”
Lucy nods.
“And Stanley’s a part of that.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, understanding.
“So,” Gianna says, and I can tell she’s working up to something. “He’s gone for you, Aspen. Like — anyone can see it. I’ve never watched him be like this over anyone.”
Lucy watches me intently.
“What?” I ask.
“He’s in love with you, Aspen,” Gianna says with wide eyes. “I’ve never seen him so chill.”
“So chill,” Lucy echoes.
Gianna adds, “And like Stanley doesn’t stop. He can keep going and going. He’s finally chill.” She chuckles. “He’s changing.”
“But that’s not good, right?” I ask. “I shouldn’t be changing him.”
She shakes her head before I’ve even finished. “No — this is a good thing. You have no idea how wound up that boy usually is. Years of house rules, the whole monk routine, treating the draft like a religion.”
“What she’s trying to say,” Lucy cuts in, “is that his world got bigger because of you. He’s softer. More thoughtful.”
“Less annoying,” Gianna adds, like she’s proud to finally say it. “And it’s because of you. You tamed the wildest one at Camden.”
I flush.
“Seriously, Aspen. He’s never even looked at a girl. That kid’s been following the house rules since day one, and then you come along and boom!”
“Boom,” Lucy echoes.
I chuckle, unable to help myself.
The inner-circle intel cracks something open. They talk about Stanley like people who love him and are worn out by him equally. Gianna does an impression of him at a party so accurate I have to put my coffee down. Lucy tells me he once spent an entire team dinner convinced he could name every player’s skate brand by the sound their stride made and got thrown out of the restaurant for testing it in the aisles. They tell me he’s the loudest person any of them have ever met and the most exhausting houseguest in America, and that Benson would do anything for him, and so would the rest of the house.
And then Gianna goes quieter than I’ve heard her all morning. “He’s not himself right now, though. You should know that. Benson says he came back from that trip different, and this weekhe’s been — off. Quiet, almost.” She makes a face. “Stan is not quiet. Ever. In his life.”
“It doesn’t touch his hockey,” Lucy says. “It never does with him. But off the ice.” She shrugs. “He’s not okay.”
I don’t have anything to say to that, so I drink my coffee and let them think I’m just shy about it.
They stay for an hour. It’s the first hour of real friendship I’ve had in my entire adult life, and it’s happening in the middle of the worst week of it, right when I need it most, and I appreciate that so much.
When they get up to go, Gianna hugs me too hard. “You’re one of us now. That doesn’t switch off because something got complicated.” She pulls back. “We’re here. That’s the whole reason we came.”
“For what it’s worth,” Lucy says, light, no push behind it, “I think you should talk to him.”
And then they’re gone, down the hall, the front door, Gianna’s voice trailing off about something for someone’s birthday — and the house goes quiet around me.
I sit on my floor with a cold coffee and the quiet.
