This is real. This is happening. I’m Romeo Rodriguez’s girlfriend and everyone knows.
26
RODRIGUEZ
The locker roomlooks like it always does. I’ve been coming here for three years and it should feel normal, routine, just another practice day.
Except Juliette is somewhere in this building and that changes everything.
I’m lacing up my skates when Dex drops onto the bench next to me with all the subtlety of a freight train.
“So,” he says.
“So,” I echo, not looking up. If I make eye contact too soon he’ll smell blood in the water.
“The girlfriend.”
“Her name is Juliette.”
“I know her name. You’ve only mentioned it approximately eight thousand times in the past five months.” He’s grinning. “She’s pretty.”
Pretty feels like the wrong word. Pretty is flowers and sunsets. Juliette barefoot in my T-shirt this morning, cheeks flushed from sleep; that’s something bigger than pretty.
“I know.”
“Way-too-good-for-your-ugly-mug pretty.”
I finally glance up. “You done?”
“Never.” He slaps my shoulder pad. “How the hell did you pull that off?”
“Persistence,” I say. “And obviously she has terrible taste in men.”
Brody appears on my other side. Of course he does. They hunt in packs.
“Is she coming to Thursday’s game?” Brody asks.
“Yeah.”
“Family section?” He raises a brow. “Or you gonna keep her locked in the tunnel like a dirty secret?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe helping Marnie on the bench.”
“Smart,” Dex says. “Ease her into it. The wives can be intense.”
“Your wife is the sweetest human alive,” I remind him.
“Yeah, until you touch her yogurt. Then it’s war crimes.” He shudders dramatically. “She cried for forty-five minutes because I ate the peach one.”
“That was her last peach,” Brody says.
“The fridge is communal!”
“Divorce papers are also communal if you keep that energy,” I mutter, but I’m smiling because this is normal. This is the rhythm I know. The chirping, the comfortable violence of brothers. It steadies the part of me that’s been vibrating like a live wire since she texted that she was actually coming over last night..
Almardon walks past, already in full gear, and pauses. “Did she go hide in Marnie’s office?”
“She’s not hiding,” I say. “She’s working.”
