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My foot slips off the bench where I have it propped up so I can tie my shoes, jarring my knee. Rubbing it, I look over at Lawson in surprise. I haven’t been acting any differently this season. “What do you mean?”
“Cor, you’re the most serious motherfucker I’ve ever met. You didn’t think we’d notice that you’re smiling more? Laughing with the guys? Other than last night at that damn party, you evenlookmore relaxed lately.”
“Oh.” I say, and look back at my shoe. The laces are trailing onto the floor, and I lean forward to tie them. “I didn’t realize all of that.”
“We did.” Lawson stands, waiting for me to follow. We’re the last two in the locker room. “Don’t worry too much about telling Nicky. He might need a day or two to agonize over it, but it’ll be alright.”
I nod, but refrain from commenting. I know he’s probably right, and it kills me to think about giving Troy anything at all to agonize over. It’s cold when we step outside, the sky dark even though there are hours of daylight left. Maybe I’ll stop at the grocery store on the way home from Troy’s, grab stuff to make stew for dinner.Does Nigel like stew?
“Are you going home? It looks like we might be in for some weather.” I ask him. Lawson shrugs, unconcerned.
“I might go out, we’ll see. Call me if you need me, alright?”
“Yeah.” He turns, heading toward where his SUV is parked a few rows over from my car. I call out to him before climbing into the driver’s seat. “See you tomorrow.”
I watch as he pulls out of the lot, letting my car warm up while I send a quick text to Nigel.What kind of stew do you like?I ask him, and barely thirty seconds pass before a reply comes through.Whatever kind you’re making.The answer makes me smile, and gives me enough motivation to put the car in drive and head over to Troy’s.
He’s at the door waiting before I’ve even walked around the hood of my car. He’s barefoot, wearing the South Carolina sweatpants and jacket he left the practice rink in. The smile on his face is so wide, it looks like it hurts. He steps aside to let me in, and I lean down to take my shoes off. Because of the way Troy’s house is laid out, I can see Sam in the kitchen when I lift my head. He calls out a hello before turning back to the stove.
“Hey, guys.” Beside me, Troy is rocking up and down on his heels. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”
“Of course.” Troy responds, at the same time Sam calls from the kitchen: “You can stop by whenever.”
It smells amazing in here, and my stomach immediately starts reminding me how long it’s been since I ate anything. Following Troy to the kitchen, I lean against the island and try to peer around Sam to see what he’s doing. There is a large pot on the stove, making me wonder if he had the same idea as I did.
“Hope you like stew.” Sam says, confirming my suspicions.
“I do. Need any help?”
“Oh? You mean the way you always let us help you?” Sam shoots me a wry look over his shoulder. I smile. He’s got me there.
“Fair enough.” I respond, and take a seat at the bar. Troy grabs me a water and I grip the glass tight with both hands. He doesn’t take the stool next to me, instead opting to remain standing near me. His fingers are tapping on the marble. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble, making lunch.”
“Nah. I was planning on having this ready for that one,” Sam nods toward Troy, “when he got home from practice. Ran late today, huh?”
“Yeah, a bit.” Troy confirms. “Video went long, and then the defensive coach got ahold of us.”
Sam begins ladling soup into large bowls, and Troy moves over to help him. I wonder if Nigel and I look like that when we’re together—occupying the same space so seamlessly, you begin to wonder how one could exist without the other. I have to smother a smile when Troy looks over at Sam in a way eerily similar to a look I’ve seen on Nigel’s face. We eat at the island, Troy and Sam standing opposite of where I’m seated. One of Troy’s hands is resting flat on the island, Sam’s fingers laid casually over the top like they can’t stand to be next to each other without contact.
“How was the party last night?” Sam asks, breaking my reverie.
“Oh, it was…” I nearly say ‘fine’ and change the subject, but no. No more lying to the people we love. “Shitty, actually. My parents were there.”
Troy lowers his spoon back into his bowl, concern darkening his eyes. “What? Lawson didn’t tell me they’d be going.”
“He didn’t know until they showed up.”Because I didn’t tell him.
“Fuck. I could have gone in your place, Cor. I’m sorry.” Troy’s brow is furrowed, and he’s rocking his spoon back-and-forth against the rim of the bowl, a softclinkpunctuating the movement. “Did you talk to them? To your dad?”
Sam remains silent, listening. He slides his hand completely over Troy’s right hand and the left ceases fiddling; the clinking stops.
“Yeah, a bit. It’s been three years since I’ve seen them in person. Time and distance doesn’t seem to have made my dad more likeable, though.” I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. Neither of them appears convinced.
“Did something happen? Is that why you wanted to talk?” Troy has completely abandoned his lunch. Sam nudges his bowl closer to him.
“No, I wanted to talk to you about something else. Something more important.” Sam’s gaze meets mine as I put another spoonful of stew in my mouth. His eyes are several shades lighter than Nigel’s, more gold than brown. I take a deep breath. Troy is watching me, brows pinched together; the longer I wait, the more anxious he’s going to get.
“We can finish eating first.” Sam tells me, correctly guessing my thoughts. I send him a small, grateful smile.
