CHAPTER THIRTEEN

V innie

Evan is being very quiet. I slide up, carefully. I’ve gone too far. His eyes are closed, his chest moving quickly.

I need to get out of here.

I step off the bed.

Then his hand closes against my wrist, and he yanks me toward him.

“Don’t leave, Vinnie.”

I slide back into his bed, this time next to him. He slinks his arms around my neck.

“This okay?” he murmurs.

“Yeah.”

We slide on our pajama bottoms.

A soft smile plays on his lips, then he falls asleep.

His chest moves against mine with every breath. I pull the sheet over us, then flick off the lamp.

Finally, my eyes close.

I’m warm when I wake up, and my eyes dart open. I think I heard a sound, but perhaps I was mistaken. Evan is still beside me. Still wrapped around me.

I smile.

My heart glows.

Dawn light streams through the curtains.

His hair is messy now, no help from last night’s bedtime activities, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

The doorknob turns.

Stella.

I hop from the bed, grab the tissues piled on the side table, and stuff them in the trash basket, thankful my pajama bottoms are on.

I open the door for her. She smiles when she sees me, but she beams when she sees Evan.

Even asleep, he’s her world.

Then she’s running. She flings herself into the bed.

Evan wakes up with a start.

“Daddy!” she screams.

Worry flickers over his face for his moment, but I wink.

“I’m going to take a shower.” I grab some sweats, then duck into his ensuite.

Stella chatters happily on the other side of the door.

I take a quick shower, then emerge. I think I hear the doorbell.

My heart glows, memories of last night vivid.

Evan and Stella have left the bedroom, and I look for them downstairs.

I find them.

I also find someone else.

A woman oozing glamor perches on a sofa in the living room. I recognize her immediately. Most of America would.

“Valentina?” I ask.

Valentina gives a slow smile. “Hello, Vinnie. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I swallow hard. “Evan hurt his head.”

Her grin widens. “So now he’s spending time with you?”

Heat surges over my cheeks. “I mean... I had to give him concussion protocol.”

“How very heroic of you to continue to provide that for him.”

My gaze darts to Evan. His face is stiffer than before, and his eyes bounce around the room, never quite meeting mine.

Stella follows the conversation, not missing a word her mother says.

“Well. Guess you’re fine now, Evan,” I say. “Congratulations.”

Stella beams. “You’re healthy, Daddy?”

“Uh-huh,” he says lightly.

“I should go,” I say.

Evan frowns. “Sit down, Vinnie.”

I blink.

“I’ll make coffee.”

“I have coffee at home,” I say weakly.

“It will take ten minutes,” Evan says, finally irritated.

“Fine. But I’ll make it.”

Valentina’s lips curl. “You should have overnight guests more often, Evan. Makes things more interesting.”

I make coffee for the three adults, then pour some milk for Stella. I avoid looking at Valentina, but her presence fills the entire house. A thick tension rolls through the air, where before there was only light and hope.

Valentina and Evan are not together, I remind myself. If they were, the tabloids would cover it. If they were, Evan wouldn’t have kissed me.

But my thoughts feel silly in my head. It’s morning now, and Evan isn’t going to announce that anything has changed between us.

I hadn’t dared to dream for last night to happen, and now that it has, how can I hope for anything else?

I can’t.

I need to leave.

But because Evans asked for coffee, that’s what I bring him.

“I didn’t expect Evan to have company.”

I shift my legs, and something around my chest tightens. “Evan was hurt. I’m just helping him.”

I’m suddenly reminded of the period after Valentina sauntered off to New York City. The time when Evan wondered how it had all gone wrong.

And now she’s back.

But perhaps she often is.

I’ve distanced myself from Evan. I only know what he announces to a room full of hockey players, and even then, we’re often in hearing shot of the press or the random people who can act like the most vigilant paparazzi even though they don’t get paid.

Perhaps Valentina often drops by. Perhaps they’re getting back together. No. Not after last night, I remind myself. But Evan hasn’t made any promises to me, and I wouldn’t have let him. Many couples pull Elizabeth Taylors and remarry, and I know nothing about if they’ve been hanging out with greater frequency, sending each other the lingering looks that will lead to lingering kisses to a reunited family.

“Would you like some breakfast, Valentina?” I ask finally.

“I can find my own food,” she says, her voice sharp.

“Of course.”

I slump into the seat, clutching my coffee cup. Coffee has never tasted so bitter. I wonder how soon I can leave.

EVAN

Vinnie’s demeanor is stiff, and his face has that blank look I remember from our locker room encounters. I’m pretty sure his mind is not being quiet. I wish I’d known all along. I know now, and I’m not going to let him torture himself.

Not about me. Not when I want everything that I’m pretty sure he wants too.

Talking about things sucks, but we gotta do it. And postponing it is just silly.

“Let’s go outside,” I tell Vinnie.

“Now?” He blinks at me.

I snort. I don’t think he really wants to hang out with Valentina.

“Now.”

His brows furrow, but he doesn’t protest. He heads to the porch.

“Sit down.” I gesture at the porch swing.

He sits.

It’s amazing that yesterday he was talking, that this morning he was smiling.

I sit beside him. “Dude, you’ve got to smile.”

He turns to me.

“We’re great,” I remind him. “Everything’s great.”

Vinnie’s look reeks of skepticism.

So that’s probably my fault.

I’m not a talker. The most I have to say is when I get interviewed after games by the press. And since their questions have to do about playing, and since I’m pretty good at playing, the interviews tend to go well. Mostly, if I’m honest, they want pictures of me. The networks’ sports journalists prefer to go into the full details. A quote that “we’ve got this” is usually what they’re after, so that they can write an article about my determination.

I nudge him. “I mean it.”

His eyes widen, then soften, then he’s smiling. I smile back, because how could I not? Vinnie’s face fucking rocks.

“I liked last night,” I say.

He hesitates, and my shoulders slide down.

Oh.

Maybe he was being cold and withdrawn this morning because he was thinking up excuses for leaving today, and I’ve only delayed things and made it awkward.

It’s not like he ever said he wanted a relationship. Maybe he’s gay, maybe he likes me, but that doesn’t mean he wants matching pajamas at Christmas and starting stories with “we.”

If he wanted to, he could have come out years ago. Plenty of men would be crazy about him. And probably those men wouldn’t all come with jobs more high profile than his or with children.

Stella is the best thing in my life. I’m not going to chase a man who isn’t sure.

“That’s all I wanted to say.” I give a wry smile. “You can think about it.”

“Why is Valentina here?” he asks finally.

“Jealous, DeLuca?”

“Maybe.” The word comes out softly for a man who I’ve heard yell over the ice and crowd many times.

“She surprised me too,” I say. “But she’s Stella’s mother, and I’m not going to be upset about that. I want us to still feel like friends.”

I’m pretty sure I’m doing this all wrong, and that I’m supposed to be handing Stella off to Valentina with minimal conversation on certain days scheduled in advance by the courts. But I don’t hate Valentina, even if I roll my eyes at her on occasion, and she doesn’t hate me.

“Did last night mean something to you?” I ask carefully.

For a moment, he’s silent, and my heartbeat quickens. I’ve read this wrong. I’ve dragged him onto the porch for no reason. He’s probably wondering why he needs to have a talk with me, like we’re at the one-month mark in a relationship, and I’m not letting him do the ghosting thing.

“It meant everything,” he says finally.

I beam at him, then take his hands in mine.

A twig snaps. I wonder if there’s a wild turkey here somewhere. Stella would love that.

The air is still, our breath cold. We puff ashy clouds into the cold air, our breaths merging, and I gaze into his dark brown eyes. “Then don’t act like an angsty teen, DeLuca.”

His lips break into a grin.

I want to kiss them again. I want to suck on his lips, suck on his tongue.

I don’t, because technically we are outside, even if no one is outside in this temperature. Boston does gray and gloomy well.

I withdraw my hands. “We’re going to go in there, and we’re going to have a good time.”

“With your ex-girlfriend.”

“She’s a model, Vinnie. They’re pretty open-minded.”

He chuckles. “Let’s go inside.”