She chuckles. “What do you want me to say?”
“Literally anything,” I swoon. She could tell me she loves peanut butter, and I’d probably soak my panties.
She leans in close enough that her voice is just for me. “Sei casa, anche dall’altra parte del mondo.”
I blink at her, feeling the heat pool between my thighs. Her voice is like velvet, and I need it wrapped around me this very second.
“I don’t know what that means,” I manage to say, tripping over my tongue.
She smiles. “I know.”
“Group photo,” Rissa shouts, gesturing to all the surrounding buildings. She hands me the camera, and I want to feel hurt that I’m not included, but this isn’t about me. It’s about all of them and their achievements as hockey players.
Skye catches my eye, raising an eyebrow like she’s checking in without words.
I smile.
For once, I don’t feel like I’m hiding. I feel like I’m resting.
While the group is focused on getting the perfect photo, I pull my phone from my pocket and quickly tap the Google app, typing in my best spelling of what she said.
My knees go weak when I realize there’s no denying I got it right.
“You’re home, even on the other side of the world.”
The Duomo appears all at once, like Milan was holding its breath waiting for our reaction.
One second, we’re weaving through small side streets, and then the next, there it is. White stone shoving itself toward the clouds. I stop without meaning to.
“Wow,” I breathe. It’s the second time I’ve seen it, but it still takes my breath away.
Skye keeps walking for exactly three steps before realizing I’m not beside her anymore. She turns, sees my face, and smiles like she already knew this would happen.
The rest of the team slows too, one by one, their chatter dissolving into dead silence.
Rissa is the first to break it. “I feel judged.” She stares up toward the top. “By history. And God. And probably architecture majors.”
Riley squints. “This place has energy.”
Paige crosses her arms against the cold, her gaze moving over the details. “It’s… a lot.”
We move closer as we step into the open square in front of the Duomo di Milano. The marble looks almost unreal in the winter light. Statues sit everywhere, including gargoyles, which are just as eerie in person as they are in cartoons and movies.
I tilt my head back until my neck protests.
I’ve performed for crowds bigger than this square. I’ve stood under lights brighter than the sun. And still, this makes me feel small in a way that’s almost comforting.
Skye steps closer to me, shoulders brushing mine as she whispers, “I’m glad you came to see it again.”
I smile up at her. “I told you I wanted to see it again.”
“Was it worth the cold?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Very.”
Skye puts her hand in my pocket, grabs mine, and holds it as we continue to stroll down the street. Hand-in-hand, in front of her hockey team, and she seems almost proud of it. Proud of us.
Paige hangs back a few feet, hands tucked into her sleeves, watching us instead of the cathedral this time. When our eyes meet, she gives me a small nod. Acknowledging the moment. I appreciate it more than she probably knows.
