CHAPTER THREE

V innie

I rush into the locker room. I’m the first one here, and I swing my gaze around the room, as if Evan might be wedged underneath one of the benches.

Footsteps thunder behind me, and I turn toward eighteen towering teammates as I fling my hockey gear at my locker and start to undress. “Where’s Evan?”

Isaiah glances from his phone. “Jasmine says he’s still in Dr. Novak’s office. He needs someone to look after him for the next few days.”

“What happened?” I holler.

Isaiah’s dark eyes widen, and he runs his hand through his dreadlocked hair.

Shit.

I’m not acting cool. I swallow in a breath of the sweat-filled air, but I only taste something metallic, and my heart still beats way too rapidly.

“Concussion, dude,” Isaiah says. “Chill. It’s normal.”

My fingers clench. Normal is the last word I’d use to describe a head injury. It could have been more. It could still be something more. Warnings about concussions tumble through my mind.

“I’ll watch him,” I blurt.

Isaiah’s eyebrows lurch upward.

Shit.

Isaiah’s only been here for two years, long enough to act like he knows everything, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how close Evan and I used to be, and suddenly I hate it.

I rake my hand through my hair, sticky with sweat from the game and worry. I square my now bare shoulders. “I’ve got this.”

“Um—” Isaiah’s eyes begin to glide to the others, as if looking for other volunteers, then he stops himself. “Sure, man. I’ll let Jasmine know.”

He taps into his phone.

I march toward Dr. Novak’s office, paste a smile that probably looks maniacal onto my face, then enter.

Evan blinks up at me. He’s sitting on the examination table, and his gaze is groggy. His perfect eyes widen, and his pink lips fall to the floor. “Vinnie?”

“I’m going to be looking after you, once I—”

“Dress?” Dr. Novak’s lips curl.

I jerk my head into a nod, then bolt out of there before anyone can protest.

I reenter the locker room, finish pulling off my clothes, then shower. I tell myself people aren’t staring at me. I tell myself that everything is perfectly fine.

I don’t believe it.

I’m sure nobody does.

My world is wobbly. All I see is Evan going down and not getting up.

I prefer the view of the orange tiles, the garish shade an earlier iteration of the Blizzards team colors. The logo improved, but the bathrooms stayed.

I don’t linger. Evan is waiting for me. I throw on my suit, so we can pretend we’re all complete gentlemen, no matter what the news reports, and haul my ass back to Dr. Novak’s office.

Evan is still there, still looking confused.

I hope that’s not a head injury thing.

“Can he go now?” I ask Dr. Novak.

Dr. Novak nods. “Certainly.”

I look down at Stella. “Let’s get your daddy back home.”

I wait for her to beam.

Stella is the happiest child I know.

Instead, she studies me. Her face is serious as if I’m a multiplication problem. “I remember you.”

“I remember you too.”

“Oh?”

“You stopped visiting us.”

“I’m sorry, Stella.”

She shrugs. “It’s okay. Mommy stopped visiting us too.”

My heart explodes.

“She’s busy with her career. She still loves you,” Evan says.

“Yeah.” Stella opens her Barbie-themed backpack, making sure she has everything, then heads for the door.

Evan clears his throat. “Vinnie isn’t coming with us.”

I swing my head to him. “What?”

“You heard me.” Evan’s voice is terse. He only sounds like that during the most brutal games.

“Evan....”

He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he turns to Dr. Novak. “Maybe you can recommend a nurse?”

“Er—yes. I have some numbers.” She scrambles through her files and strives to maintain an aura of composure. This isn’t something she anticipated.

I glower. “No.”

Evan’s face is grim. His fingers clench.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should just leave and forget all this awkwardness ever happened.

Evan will have a professional looking after him.

I glance at Stella.

He needs someone to watch her, too.

“It’s late,” I say softy. “Let’s get you home.”

“But—”

“I’m sure you can find someone else to hire,” I say. “But right now, you need someone. Not in one hour. Not in two hours. I can watch Stella too. Let’s get you into bed.”

His face crumples. “Just for tonight.”

I nod, relieved.

He looks at Dr. Novak. “But please send me the information. I’ll hire someone tomorrow.”

She looks at me uncertainly.

“I can handle it,” I say, and I hope it’s true.

Maybe Dr. Novak is eager to get home too, or maybe she knows it would be hard to find a nurse willing to babysit.”

She hands me some papers and explains the concussion protocol to me. Next thing I know, I’m leading Evan and Stella to their car. I make sure Stella is in her booster seat, then help Evan into the passenger seat. Then I take the keys and drive Evan to his house.

“You need the address?”

“I remember.” I tighten my grip on the wheel, my heart beating against my ribs.

EVAN

Vinnie zooms my BMW away from the arena. Rain drizzles around us, and the bright lights seem large and fuzzy. I rest my head against the cold glass.

I don’t get knocked down by anyone, much less rookies.

But I’d been off all night, stressing whether I should speak to Vinnie. That had been an obvious fail. He’d seemed shocked when I’d invited him for pizza.

And now he’s next to me, driving Stella and me home.

The car is silent, which is probably fine. Stella is fast asleep in the back. But I hate the tension that reverberates between us, that seems thicker than the grinding of the tires over the fallen leaves, and the squelch as it moves over the occasional puddle.

“Rest,” Vinnie says, his tone an unwelcome mixture of soothing and authoritative.

I glare at him.

Okay, maybe confronting him now isn’t a good time. I don’t want to wake Stella.

I fold my arms around myself, then wince. He jerks his head to me at once. I hate it.

Vinnie has always been aware of my every move. It’s helpful in hockey. Confusing everywhere else.

We cross the Charles, the large trees gloomy and melancholic in the night, then he ascends onto Beacon Hill. Lampposts splatter golden light onto the brick walls, and the SUV bumps as it bounces over centuries-old cobblestones.

Finally, Vinnie pulls into my driveway in Louisburg Square. A former presidential candidate lives in the next house, and when he’s in Boston, and not at one of his other mansions, it’s to dispense wisdom to Harvard graduate students. We don’t have much in common.

I scramble for the garage opener, moving some Barbies from the console.

The garage door zings open, and Vinnie slides the car inside. With another press of the button, the door closes behind us.

We are alone.

In my townhouse.

“How do you feel?” Vinnie murmurs.

“Okay.”

He nods, then exits. Stella is still asleep in her booster seat, and he unbuckles her gently. She blinks up at him.

“Shhh... We’re home now.”

Stella stretches out her arms, and he lifts her into his sturdy grasp. He carries her up the steps of my townhouse. I blink, then open the door.

I turn on the lights, then direct Vinnie to Stella’s bedroom.

“I’ll take it from here,” I say.

He nods solemnly. “Let me know if you need anything. I can make food?”

“I’m so not hungry.”

Vinnie looks at the paper Dr. Novak gave him on my aftercare. “Apple sauce?”

“God, no.” Bile hits the back of my throat. “Maybe some water.”

His eyes soften. “You’ve got it.”

“I feel geriatric.”

“You’re not. You played like a warrior.”

I blink, and I think his cheeks are a darker color than before.

It could be my imagination.

Everything is groggy.

“Need help here?” Vinnie asks.

“No.”

He nods, then turns.

I hear Vinnie pad around downstairs. I put Stella through the bedtime routine, making sure she brushes her teeth.

“Story time?” Stella asks hopefully.

“Uh—” My head aches, but I only smile. “Sure, sweetie.”

I don’t want to disturb her routine. She’s the best thing in my life, and she deserves everything.

I grab the closest book. It’s thin, which is a big plus.

“Not that one, Daddy,” she pleads.

“Er—right.” I blink at the row of books in the long, cream-colored bookcase. My girl likes to read. “Which one, sweetie?”

Stella grabs a book. “This one.”

Right.

I open the book, blinking.

Then footsteps sound behind me. I turn, and Vinnie is there with my water.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Stella wants me to read to her...”

He frowns. “Your daddy has a headache.”

Stella’s lower lip trembles.

“It’s okay,” I say, grabbing hold of the book.

“Why don’t I read tonight?” Vinnie asks, slipping me the glass of water.

I blink.

Stella blinks.

He turns to Stella, aware he might have said something wrong. “If that’s okay with you?”

She glances at me, and I nod.

She smiles. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Vinnie beams, then begins to read.

Thankfully Stella falls asleep quickly. This has been an exhausting night, but she feels calm.

I realize with a start that I do too.

I gesture to Vinnie once I’m sure she’s out, and he puts the book down. I kiss Stella’s forehead, because I so can’t resist, then we sneak out of the room.

I close the door, then turn to him. “Tell me what the fuck’s going on.”