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“Well, no. He’ll fight you on it, but you’ve got to keep asking. He needs a friend. Or at the very least a teammate who doesn’t want to smother him with a pillow in his sleep.”
Vasel nods. “I see. Yes, I can be a friend.”
“Thank you. Have a good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I’m feeling good about this situation as I turn to clean up from my day with Morgan. Vas is quiet, stoic, and polite. I feel certain he’ll try to befriend Morgan and probably won’t rat me out in the process. It’s a win-win. I’m humming absently when Nico skates to a stop next to me. Sloppily, I notice, and farther away by several feet than was needed. Maybe he’s just nervous being on the ice, after that hit. Reasonable, I suppose, since it was a career-ending hit.
“Hi.” I look him up and down, earning a glower.
“How did Morgan do today?”
“Good. I took him back to basics.” One of Nico’s eyebrows rises. “He’s weak on a few things that would have been tweaked long before now, if he’d been a part of any serious hockey camps. He’s got a lot of raw talent that’s keeping him afloat, but when he messes up it’s usually something simple. I need more one-on-one time with him.”
“You can have it,” Nico says. “Do you need help?”
I look down at the pristine ice and the bucket of pucks at my feet. It’s obvious I don’t need help. Sometimes, he’s fucking weird. “No, I’m good. Want to grab dinner?”
“No, I’m good,” he mimics, and I roll my eyes.
He turns, skating toward the bench. I notice Myles Avery is nowhere in sight; nobody clears out of here faster than that guy. “How do you feel about steak? Do you have a grill?”
I don’t need a visual on his face to know it’s set in annoyance. “No, Anthony; I do not have a grill.”
“Want to come over to my place? I’ve got a grill, and stuff to put on it.”
He sighs dramatically, sitting down to pull off his skates. I’m still wearing the leg pads I put on to work with Morgan today, so I’ll have to stop by the locker room to change. “Sure,” he finally says, in a tone that implies he’s taking pity on me. I don’t let it get me down, since I’m the one winning in this situation.
“Great. I’ll text you my address,” I reply, assuming that he’ll want to drive separately.
“Actually,” his face is twisted up in a weird expression, like he’s chewing on something sour, “can I ride with you? I can get an Uber back here later.”
“Oh, sure. Of course. I’ll drive you both ways, it’s no trouble.”
He puts on his shoes and starts tying the laces a tad aggressively. I wait for him, and when we get to the locker room I duck inside to take off the pads and my skates. He’s standing outside, leaned against the opposite wall when I emerge, face still looking like a thundercloud. He’s evidently not thrilled about riding with me. I wait until we’re pulling out of the parking lot before my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Is your car in the shop?” I ask.
“No.”
“Just eager to spend more time with me, then?”
I get nothing more than a contemptuous look for that. It’s kind of sexy. Turning on the radio, I lower the volume enough that we could talk if we wanted, but keep it loud enough to blockout Nico’s silence. We make it all the way to my house without saying another word. As I pull into my drive, Nico leans forward in his seat and squints out the windshield. It’s a big house—far too big for just one person, with its five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a massive basement gym. Before he can bring it up, I put the car in park and pull the key from the ignition.
“I’ve got five brothers and sisters, and a lot of nieces and nephews. Not to mention, my parents. When people come visit, I wanted to have enough places to put them, so nobody had to get a hotel if they didn’t want to.”
He turns to look at me, another unreadable expression on his face. “Five brothers and sisters?” He repeats. I nod and pop open my door. He follows suit, and the sudden fact of his presence here hits me like a punch to the nose. My house is in no way clean enough to entertain a guest.Fuck.
“Uh, my house isn’t as clean as yours, by the way,” I say, as he climbs from the passenger seat. I wait, hands shoved into my pockets, at the front of the vehicle. “I usually have some help, but she takes time off in the summer, so…”
I trail off, realizing as I’m speaking that I’m not doing myself any favors. Nico doesn’t say anything, but stares at me, impassively.Well, nothing for it, I guess.I head inside, conscious of him trailing behind me by the soft footfalls and the eyes burning a hole in my back. I push open the door, do a quick scan of the immediate interior, and hold it open for Nico to enter in front of me. He doesn’t immediately look around, the way most people do when they visit a new place, but stands just inside the door as though waiting for me to tell him what to do.
“It’s pretty nice outside, do you want to eat out there? You can relax while I grill,” I offer.
“Sure. Whatever you want.” His voice is stiff and uncomfortable sounding. He hasn’t moved a muscle since stepping inside.
“Alright, well, kitchen is this way.” I place a gentle hand at his low back, inciting him to move. We walk abreast, and I’m just starting to feel pretty good about the state of cleanliness—it’s much less tidy upstairs, but he doesn’t have to know that—when Nico runs into a wall.
It’s a half wall that separates the kitchen from the dining room area; a wall I’ve been meaning to knock out in order to open up the space. It’s on Nico’s right side, and I’d given him plenty of space to skirt around it when I turned into the kitchen. He hits it, hard, the way someone would run into something if they were walking around an unfamiliar place blindfolded. He inhales a sharp breath, a hand on his stomach like the wind was knocked out of him.
