CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

L uke

I march into the locker room. I’m back in Boston. Back at the Blizzards Arena.

I check my phone.

It doesn’t say I have text message from Sebastian. Or a voicemail. Or a missed call. Or a fucking e-mail.

I squeeze my eyes.

My teammates chatter around me. We have a game tonight, and practice is mandatory.

“Luke!”

I hear my voice shouted from the murmur of voices and open my eyes. Keeping my eyes shut is hardly a long-term plan.

“How was Ashcove?” Axel asks. “Did you decide who you’re going to pick?”

I blink at him. “You’ve been watching Seeking Mr. Right ?”

Axel is like Vinnie 2.0. Scary and super good and not the person I would immediately say watches reality TV.

“Hey! I was featured in an episode,” Axel says.

“I’m still sorry about that.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m sorry about taking your girl. I didn’t know.”

I shrug. “That’s what I tried to tell them.”

“Axel doesn’t mind his bad reputation,” Noah says, laughing.

Axel gives a lackadaisical shrug. “It sets expectations. Besides, everyone loves an F-Boy.”

Most of my teammates have the good grace to look embarrassed, but a few are definitely fist bumping one another.

Normally I might smile or even chuckle, but now my heart is hollow. I glance at my phone again. Sebastian still hasn’t reached out to me.

I didn’t see him for the rest of the time in Ashcove, but Ella tells me he’s going to be hosting the live Christmas Eve segment.

I know she thought it was strange I defended him to my brother, and I didn’t want to ask more questions. Because I know Sebastian doesn’t want anything about our relationship to get out.

But I haven’t heard from him.

And maybe I never will.

Maybe that night with Sebastian was every bit as special as we both knew it was.

I vow not to call Sebastian again. My presence only hurts him. I’m clumsy and awkward and inexperienced.

Perhaps there’s nothing I can do, nothing I can say. Perhaps my only impact on Sebastian’s life was to make it terrible.

My teammates continue to chatter about the show.

“Who are you going to pick?” Axel asks.

I raise my eyebrows. “You’re really watching the show.”

“I told you that already,” Axel says.

I nod, but my mind feels foggy and unclear, like all the hits on my head in my lifetime are impacting me at once.

“You converted us all into Seeking Mr. Right viewers,” Noah says, and normally I would laugh along with them, but instead I plop onto the bench and start tearing off my clothes to gear up for practice.

“So are you going to pick Flora or Willow?” Vinnie asks, leaning in.

My eyebrows raise.

Vinnie shrugs. “It is a surprisingly addictive show.”

“With a nice host too.” Troy winks at me, but my face must fall, because Troy’s joviality is replaced with concern, as if he’s heard me get diagnosed with one of those life-ending diseases.

I look away.

I can’t look at Troy.

I can’t have him see what’s in my heart.

Because nothing matters. Sebastian won’t answer my calls. So what if I miss him? It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

Life is gray and gruesome.

“That is a silly question,” Dmitri says, his voice stern. “Of course he will pick Flora.”

“I like Willow,” Vinnie says.

“You are gay man,” Dmitri says sternly. “You know nothing about women.”

“Willow is intelligent,” Vinnie says. “And she is kind. They will have smart children.”

“Nothing can make Luke’s children smart,” Axel says, and I throw my sweatshirt at him, wishing only that I’d been able to make it dirtier and smellier on my walk to the arena.

“Flora is a former cheerleader. She knows sports.”

“She knows how to jump around on a football field,” Vinnie says.

The others frown.

“Luke will be forgiving. She is cheerful and upbeat. Willow does not interest him.”

“Does Flora interest him?” Troy muses.

I rise suddenly. “I’m going to see if I can get a massage.”

“You’re in pain, Luke?” Evan asks.

I glower and slam the door of the locker room, hearing shocked murmurs as I march down the hallway.