33. Roman

33

ROMAN

M ichael and Violet’s engagement party was everything I’d expect from them: warm, lively, and decked out in the tackiest holiday gear imaginable. Their new apartment, which was also part of the reason for the celebration, looked like Christmas had exploded in it—twinkling lights, garlands, and a ridiculous number of gingerbread-scented candles. It was an Ugly Christmas Sweater party, but half the guests had clearly put more effort into their sweaters than others. Some looked practically fashionable, while the rest of us fully embraced the ugly with no shame.

Yeah, us. I was part of the tacky squad. I adjusted my sweater, which jingled obnoxiously with every move thanks to the little bells hot glued to it. Rachel had helped me make the monstrosity. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking back to the night she came over with bags of craft supplies. The three of us—me, Wes, and Sawyer—sat around like a bunch of kids, trying to figure out how to glue pom-poms and felt snowflakes onto cheap sweatshirts without completely wrecking them. Rachel guided us through it all, laughing so hard when Sawyer’s first attempt turned into a glitter-covered mess, while Wes, as always, tried to make his look designer-worthy.

My sweater was a disaster, but the memory alone made it worth wearing.

As I took another sip of my spiked eggnog, Nakamura wandered over, eyeing the sweaters Wes, Sawyer, and I were all sporting. He smirked, clearly noticing the matching theme. “What’s with the sweaters? You guys start a club or something?”

I couldn’t resist the opening. “Nah, we made ’em at your mom’s house. You know, after we finished taking turns with her.”

Nakamura’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked genuinely shocked. Then he groaned, rubbing his face. “You gotta be kidding me. Really, Roman? A ‘your mom’ joke? How old are we?”

“Hey, Keiko’s got a great craft room. You should be proud.” I added it deadpan, barely suppressing a grin. Wes and Sawyer chuckled beside me, and Nakamura shot us all a mock glare.

“You idiots are the worst,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Can’t believe I let you assholes on my team.”

“You love us,” Wes chimed in, nudging him with a grin. Nakamura flipped us off but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips as he walked away.

I was still grinning when I glanced across the room, my eyes automatically searching for Rachel. She wasn’t close enough to hear the joke, but I kind of wished she had been. I knew she would’ve rolled her eyes, probably given me that playful shove I always looked forward to. But she was at the threshold to Michael’s new kitchen, standing with a group of Violet’s friends. She looked a little off tonight, more tired than usual, yawning into her hand like she hadn’t slept in days. I suspected some of her low-energy mood was also because we couldn’t be open here, not with Michael around. Not yet. I wanted to go over and ask if she was okay, but I held back. We were supposed to be blending in, just friends at a party. Nothing more.

That secret connection between us, though—electric as always—was starting to weigh on me. The small touches when no one else was looking, the stolen glances, the way I wanted to cling to her side the whole damn night. It was thrilling, but I wanted more. I wanted her on my arm, in front of everyone.

“God, Michael and Violet seem so happy,” Wes said, coming up beside me. His eyes were on the newly engaged couple, who were laughing together by the Christmas tree, wrapped up in their own little world.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Poor girl’s stuck with him for life, though. Hope she knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“Endless hockey talk,” Wes quipped with a smirk. “Every game, every stat, every player in the league. She’s got no idea.”

Rachel joined us a little later, standing between Wes and Sawyer. She was right there, close enough to touch, and I told myself that if she stood beside me, I’d have a harder time keeping my hands to myself, so this was for the best.

Together, we all chatted about the happy couple, making light conversation, letting other partygoers duck in and out of our circle but never breaking it. I could feel the warmth of Rachel’s presence next to me when she eventually moved to my side, and though I wanted to pull her closer, I settled for brushing my hand against hers out of sight. She gave me a small, almost sad smile.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Michael’s voice cut through the chatter, sharp and angry.

I turned, and my stomach dropped when I saw Sharon hanging on the arm of Gregory, the guy on the team I liked the least, solidifying his place on my shit list. Gregory was all swagger and smirk, and Sharon? Well, she was trouble in a miniskirt. The second she walked in, I knew she was here to cause a scene. She got off on it.

“Come on, Mike, it’s a party,” Sharon cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “You wouldn’t want me to miss all the fun, would you?”

“Since this is my house, yeah, I’d love you to miss out,” Michael’s jaw clenched, and he looked like he was ready to throw them both out right then and there. But before he could say anything, Sharon’s gaze flicked over to me, then to Wes and Sawyer. And then, with a grin that made my blood run cold, she opened her mouth and ruined everything.

“Well, fine then. But before I go, don’t you want to know what I learned recently about your skanky sister?”

The room went silent. It was like someone had hit pause on the music, the chatter, everything. Michael’s face red with fury, his eyes darting back and forth between Rachel and Wes’s ex-girlfriend from hell.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Michael growled, stepping toward her, his fists clenched at his sides.

Sharon grinned wider, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Oh, you didn’t know? Your buddies here”—she gestured to me, Wes, and Sawyer—“are all getting real cozy with Rachel. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Goddamn it. This was not the plan.

Michael turned to us, his eyes blazing with betrayal. Sharon wasn’t a trustworthy source, but the way we were all standing together, dumbstruck, certainly gave her some credibility. Michael looked at Rachel, ignoring the rest of us. “Is this true?”

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, Rachel swallowed hard and nodded. “It’s true, Michael. I…we were going to tell you.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rach?” Michael cut her off, his voice shaking with rage. “You’re boinking my friends? All three of them? Are you kidding me?”

I could feel the tension crackling in the air. Wes tried to step in, tried to explain, but Michael wasn’t hearing any of it. He was too far gone, too furious to listen to reason. And Rachel—God, she looked devastated. She hadn’t wanted this. None of us had wanted this.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Rachel said quietly, her voice steady despite the chaos swirling around her. “It’s not—we’re not trying to hurt you.”

“Bullshit,” he spat.

I stepped toward Rachel, putting a hand on her lower back. At least I could touch her openly now. “Let’s go, alright? Give him some space.”

The party was breaking apart anyway. Sharon had seen to that. I could hear Gregory laughing about something, but I was already focused on Rachel, on getting her out of there. Sawyer and Wes were right behind us as we headed for the door.

“My place,” I murmured to Rachel. “All of us. We’ll take care of you, okay? It’ll be better with some space.”

Rachel nodded, but tears were falling. Damn it. She was always so strong. Seeing her cry was like a knife to my heart.

We left Mike standing in the ruins of what was supposed to be his happy night. I didn’t care. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Rachel, making sure she was okay. The rest of the mess could wait.