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His face freezes for a second before he smiles and nods.
“Ah, you mean Nessy. Sorry, I really should be better about the guys’ names, but the nicknames are all we use at the facility.”
“What is up with the nicknames anyway?” I demand. “They had a cookout a few weeks ago, and most of the team came over, and I was confused for eighty percent of the day because people kept using so many names.”
Tuck bursts out laughing, and I feel like I just won a damn championship or some shit.
“Yeah, if the WAGs were there, then there would be lots of names, since they don’t care about the nicknames.”
“It’s annoying, is all I’m saying,” I explain. “But anyway, I get the feeling Barry really does like and respect you.”
“That’s—” He clears his throat, his eyes suddenly serious and a darker shade of brown. “That’s good to hear.”
“Also, this guy uh . . . the boyfriend of—”
“Only one of my players has a boyfriend,” he interrupts with a small, teasing smile. “And that’s Lex. No nickname.” We both chuckle at that. “And the boyfriend’s name is Eli.”
“Right, Lex, who is the son of Lyla Storm, which my sister failed to mention, so I made an ass out of myself in front of everyone when I finally realized.” That seems to be amusing enough to have his eyes crinkling at the edges.
I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed the feeling of someone making fun of me. Maybe not making fun, but he’s definitely amused at my expense, and it doesn’t feel mean.
Weird.
Anyway, moving on.
“Eli,” I continue. “Well, he told me he went to Luxton, and he told Hannah to pass on his number to talk about the interview, the school, or anything. But with how things have been happening, I completely forgot about that.”
Tuck’s smile has grown into something softer that has weird shit happening inside me. I can’t explain it.
“Actually, now that you mention it, Eli is a friend. A very good one. I was always one year ahead of him at Luxton, until he turned fifteen and decided he was done with school and graduated one year after. He’s a genius. Lex actually played with me on the hockey team for two years. They’re good guys.”
“I thought they seemed pretty relaxed considering Lex’s father is also a famous hockey player?” I ask, because I really have no idea, and again when Tucker’s answer is a snort, it feels like I’m winning.
What am I winning?
Who the fuck knows, and who the fuck cares, honestly.
“Yeah, you could say his dad is pretty famous.” I know he’s doing that thing again, but I can’t stop a smile from tugging at my cheeks.
“Whatever,” I mumble. “Lyla Storm is way more culturally relevant than any hockey player.”
At that, he throws his head back so it’s dramatically lying flat on the back of the couch and lets out an impressively theatrical groan.
“I hate to agree with that, but it’s true.”
“Actually.” I sit up when I remember. “There’s a hockey player who’s married to Sterling, he might be very relevant too.”
“God, Sunny,” he groans, but he’s also laughing. “Jules Dupont is not just some hockey player married to Sterling. He’s a four-time Stanley Cup winning captain and has more trophies to his name than anyone can count. He’s probably about to win another damn Cup too!”
I burst into giggles at his frustration.
“But Sterling is . . . Sterling,” I counter, and he pins me with a deadpan face and pursed lips.
“I guess,” he grumbles, very grumpy, unfairly adorable.
“Okay,” I say and sit up again. “So, if you want to go hang out with Eli sometimes in the afternoon, then you just let me know and I’ll take care of the boys. I’m sure your sisters would also be very open to me bringing the boys over to their places—with Johnny, of course,” I hurry to add.
“Thanks,” he says, his smile now soft.
