“So you can accuse me of being a nepo-baby again?”
“I never accused you of that, that’s something you misunderstood,” I raise my voice when Nicko pulls his hands away to glare at me. “Besides, I too would use all my channels. I never meant to condemn anyone whohasthose possibilities. I merely wanted to point out that some peopledohave certain advantages over people like me, who don’t have them.”
I look at him, sighing when he still frowns at me, dissatisfied with my explanation.
“Look, when I said that, I didn’t mean that it’s bad that parents helped their children get better at a sport they love and enjoy. I merely meant that there should bemoreinstitutions like that. I wouldn’t have started hockey if it hadn’t been for the foster care sports program. They paid for all my equipment back then.” If I hadn’t had all that help, I might have never made it past those first hurdles.
“That’s all I wanted to say back then, that it should be possible for everyone to get that sort of help, and–” I swallow, taking a deep breath, “I never meant to imply that you didn’t deserveyour draft. You do,” I finish, hoping that my point has come across.
Nicko scoffs, but then rubs at his eyes, heaving a sigh.
“Okay, that...makes sense.”
I hum, glad that we have managed to dispel this misunderstanding between us. I lean in to brush my lips against his cheek when he stops me with his hand to my chest.
“But you could’ve said that without making me look like a spoiled brat on a live radio show.”
I snort, leaning in further now. “You don’t need me for that,” I remind him.
“Ass,” he grumbles, there’s no heat behind his words, but his hand still lays over my heart.
I hum, reaching out to pluck his glasses off of his nose, cupping his cheek after I’ve put them away on the nightstand. I search for his eyes, holding the contact. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you look bad. Especially not on a live show.”
“Ugh, of course you’re saying that now!” Nicko protests, but his hand wanders to my neck and our lips meet. The kiss is chaste and comforting. I smile when we part and this time Nicko doesn't need any prompting before he nestles his head in the crook between my shoulder and neck.
For a while, we just lie there, comfortable in each other’s presence. Nicko is the first to break the silence.
“I thought about going to Europe if…” he starts, then leaves the rest unsaid.
I blink a few times, unsure why my body is already reacting with some uncertain pain before I have fully grasped the words. If Nicko gets picked up in Europe, he will be hours, nodaysaway. Is this why he was so adamant about us not being a possibility in the future?
“But hey, at least one Van der Hoff will make it to the NHL.” He looks at me when I just blink at him. “Nate. He’s going to play for the Pioneers after all.”
Xander, March 8th
Ibite my tongue to not cringe. Nate still hasn’t told him. The realization turns my stomach.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Trying to salvage the mood and divert the topic, I roll over Nicko, making sure to catch my weight on my elbows as I lean down to nose over his cheeks. I press my lips against the shell of his ear so I can keep my voice to a low murmur.
“In any case: The Rebels are idiots.”
Nicko looks up at me with those green eyes, still red and frustrated.
My heart skips into my throat. “I bet every time you score, someone is getting yelled at for not sending you that contract already.”
Nicko snorts, tilting his head, but he doesn’t pull away. “Shouldn’t you worry more about winning the trophy, Xanxan?”
“Nope,” I grin, “but I’ll let you touch it when I do.”
“Ass!” Nicko pushes against my chest, but still tips his chin up to meet me halfway when I lean in to kiss him.
“I'll let you touch that too,” I laugh when he groans at the pun. “Although, to get even, you should let me touch yours first.”
“What?”
“I mean, you’ve already been in mine.”
