“For what?” I demand, though I’m still unable to say it back. I should... Iwantto say it back.
“Maybe they wouldn’t have sent you to the fucking Demons if I hadn’t trashed their fucking hallway.”
His voice waivers with emotion, his accent—the one he doesn’t really have anymore—suddenly front and centre.
“They’ve been assholes the whole time,” I tell him, my voice as weak as my argument, but thankfully Patrick is here.
“I don’t think they would’ve given Lex a choice regardless of tonight’s events, Ruko.” He makes a slashing motion with one hand and keeps his gaze steady on Dad. “The offer from the Demons is just too good for them to pass it up.”
“What are they getting anyway?” I ask, grasping at the topic change eagerly. God, I wish Eli was here, he’d probably find the perfect way to keep Dad and me from spiraling any further.
“They’re getting Charlot and Boulanger.”
I let that sink in, and after considering it, I decide that’s not embarrassing. Not at all.
“Their second line center and first line defenseman,” Dad muses, all traces of his brimming emotions gone.
“And I’m going to fucking New York,” I mumble, and it finally sinks in. “They’re going to fucking murder me,” I whisper, and the pressure that’s not even real yet becomes a crushing weight on my chest.
“Look.” Patrick speaks faster now, obviously seeing I’m about to panic. “Is it the biggest market in American sports? Yes.Will there be scrutiny? Also yes. But you are Alexei Jankowski, the fans will be fucking ecstatic that you’re becoming a Demon. They’re probably going to sell it as you are finally playing for your hometown.”
This is my hometown,I think, but I keep it quiet because...
Well, I don’t really have one.
Yes, I was born here and lived the first twelve years of my life here, but Mom is in New York,Eliis there...
“Not putting it on my fuck-no list was fucking stupid,” I mumble, and have to look up when neither of them have anything to say to that.
Dad’s green eyes—same as mine—bore into me with that perceptive gaze that’s always seen too much.
“Why didn’t you?” he asks quietly.
I might hate him just a little bit for that.
He knows why, but he wants me to say it.
“Own up to your decisions, Alexei.”
His words from so long ago are painfully relevant now.
Back then he said it when he took me to Richester, right after I broke Eli’s heart, and Dad obviously didn’t know the details, but he knew enough. He saw right through me back then and he still does.
So he’s just asking to make me face it. To own it.
“Because even playing for the world’s oldest homophobe couldn’t stop me from wanting to be close to Eli.”
That . . . snaps something inside me.
Into place.
I do want to be close to Eli, and now I’ll have that chance.
“Okay then.” The finality in Dad’s tone closes out more than just the conversation. It shifts the tone, the emotional toll, and the temperature inside the room.
Dad sits on the armchair next to the bed and Patrick pats my shoulder before muttering something about making a call and exiting quietly.
When I turn back around, Dad’s putting his phone to his ear.
