Page 107 of Gave Proof Through the Night

“Oh. Here and there. I move around a lot.”

“Not too differently than your childhood, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” She went quiet for a second with her eyes on the sidewalk ahead as if it had the answer written on it somewhere. “I guess you could say that.”

“Any chance you’d want to spend some time in California?”

She’d made a noncommittal little sound. Something between “eh” and a hum. Then she’d tipped her head back and pointed straight up. “Ooh. That cloud looks exactly like a rabbit eating a hot dog.”

She said it with the full conviction of someone who’d just spotted a UFO, and the conversation, along with any chance of an actual answer, floated off with it.

I’ll ask her again after the gala. I’m not the only guy on my team with the same concerns.

Half the guys are plotting entire life relocations, trading teams, or moving their new girlfriends closer to them. Somebody’s selling a condo. I laugh. Seems like an unusual number of guys started new relationships during the tournament. Must be something in the water.

The lobby doors part and the AC is heavenly. For a second all I want in the world is to stand in it. Then somebody says my name.

“Precio.”

It’s Blake Davis from the East team with his big goalie energy even in street clothes.

“Bear,” I say. “Where you off to?”

“Someplace better than here, hopefully.” That’s all he gives me, and I don’t push, because I know that look. He glances at me a second too long, though, and his mouth splits into a knowing grin. "Heard something interesting this week."

“That’s never good.”

"You were at the Capitol Practice Facility last Saturday. After hours.” He lets that sit there.

I feel my stomach drop about four floors. “How do you⁠—”

“Relax.” He holds up a hand like he’s stopping a puck. “My uncle Phil runs maintenance over there. He’s tight with your guy Martín.”

“So it was fine? That was allowed? I don’t want Martín to get written up on my account.”

“It’s totally cool. Gave me a few ideas.” He wags his brows. “A whole private skate, lights and music and everything. Very smooth.”

“Yeah, it was my…” I’m about to say girlfriend automatically, but stop myself. “…My date’s birthday. I wanted to surprise her.”

If Davis notices the stutter, he doesn’t say anything about it. He just claps me on the shoulder.

“West played great, by the way,” he says. “No hard feelings, man. Even when you were sending slap shots through my five-hole.”

“You’ll live.”

He fist-bumps me, already half-turned toward the door. “Gotta run. Can’t miss this one.” And there’s that look. I’ve seen it on half the guys’ faces this week, guys who three weeks ago were single and now can’t get out the door fast enough. I wonder if I’ve been wearing the same one and just haven’t caught myself in a mirror.

I’m still smiling about the five-hole comment when I pass the lounge and a voice stops me dead in the middle of the lobby.

“She’s not gonna get away with it, you know.”

I turn.

It’s that slimy little man from the museum. He’s sitting in one of the lounge chairs like he’s been lying in wait all morning. He gets up and crosses toward me, and I’m already on defense.

“What the diablos are you doing here?” I say.

I know for a fact he’s not a hotel guest.