Chapter 38 Adrian
ADRIAN
We’re at the men’s hockey game between Canada and Sweden, and despite how crowded the arena is, Kavi’s vivid pink hair is easy to spot.
I can’t help but smile at it. I’ve never told her this, but Kavi reminds me a lot of my youngest sister. They both spent a lot of time struggling with their confidence, but you wouldn’t know that from looking at them today.
Kavi has her own photography studio, mentors younger artists, and is the only person I know with the power to make the grumpiest player on the Vancouver Wings, her husband Dmitri Lokhov, crack a smile in public.
Sonya hasn’t seen Kavi yet.
I can’t help to point her out, because Sonya’s not beside me.
The plan is for Sonya to meet Kavi first, while I stand off to the side. According to my ballerina, it makes it seem less of a thing that we traveled here together.
I wait.
Sonya’s picking her nails and craning her head, looking around.
Kavi doesn’t know about the yips, I remember. With how long the World Hockey Championships have been going on for, this is the first time Sonya’s seen her best friend since her life’s been turned upside-down.
Kavi sees Sonya first and yelps—rushing over and pulling her into a big hug. Sonya’s arms are stuck to her sides, but after a stretched moment, she drops her head onto Kavi’s shoulders and stays there.
My heart lifts. Sonya might play it cool with everyone else, but she can’t with Kavi. Not really. It’s probably why she’s been avoiding talking to her about her ballet. A best friend is like a mirror. You can only hide for so long.
Eventually, they pull apart. Kavi’s determined and talking. Sonya is crossing her arms, but also leaning forward and talking.
Their friendship is fucking adorable.
Kavi’s expression makes it seem like she’s asking Sonya something. Sonya seems disgruntled and reluctant, but slowly points to…where I’m standing against the wall.
I perk up, glance around, then point to myself and grin. Me?
I saunter over—and am yanked into a warm hug by Kavi the second I get close enough. “And here I thought no amount of convincing would change your mind about coming here.”
“Logistics,” Sonya jumps in to say. “That’s why we flew together. Because I wanted to see you and see Quinn, and Hughes also has things to do. You know, his own stuff. So it’s a schedule thing. Timing and complete randomness.”
Kavi’s grin is slow and teasing. “Wow, that all sounds so believable.”
Sonya pouts.
Well it’s more of a frown-pout, but the first time I’ve ever seen it. Of course, I’m cataloguing it.
Another one of her frowns I’ll remember, save, and cherish.
Kavi nudges Sonya with her elbow and gives her a pointed look that reads: We’re totally going to talk about this later when we’re alone together. Then she turns to me. “Dmitri mentioned you’re trying to find Jung, but didn’t tell me why.”
That’s because I’ve been shielding the rest of the team from how seriously the GM is pushing to make changes.
It hasn’t gotten to the point where everyone needs to worry, I rationalize.
I can still work harder, brainstorm more, and throw around my influence as captain of the Wings to protect us. Whatever it takes, I won’t fail.
“It’s contract stuff,” I tell Kavi. “You know, that boring, negotiating side of hockey. Strategizing a few things with Forrester there, too. All things I’m making sure get handled before our next season starts.”
Above Kavi’s head, Sonya’s expression shifts subtly. Our eyes meet and something raw passes between us. Somehow I feel naked. Exposed.
I rub a spot over my chest, unable to move otherwise. There’s an urge to look away. Her hands twitch to the side as if she feels it, too.
I see what you’re doing, her dark gaze tells me. Pretending.
You also do it, darling. So well.
But I still see you.
And I see you, too.
“It’ll be impossible to find Jung.” Kavi goes up on her toes as if it might help. “Especially with the game about to start.”
I pretend my hands are goggles and press them against my eyes, dramatically swinging my head around. “But we must find him!”
Kavi sniggers.
I smile, cloaking the worry coursing through me. Because she’s right.
All around us fans are heading to their seats, chatting loudly, arms full of snacks and drinks. Bodies crammed together around the concession stands, the bathrooms, and the stairs leading to the bowls of the stadium. In this crowd, Jung will be impossible to locate.
“Hm.” Kavi’s mouth quirks to one side. “There’s a party tonight after the game. Every player and their friends are invited, no matter what country you’re playing hockey for. Do you think he’ll show up to that?”
Hell yes.
Jung is in his early twenties, attractive, single, and loves a good time. If he’s here in Oslo, he’ll be there.
Even so, I genuinely try searching the crowd around us—and fail at seeing anyone resembling Jung. Before we met up with Kavi, Sonya and I already toured the luxury box. He wasn’t there. Macklin also hasn’t gotten back to me yet.
“This party might be easier to search,” Sonya says—then glances sharply at Kavi. “Not that I’m here to help Hughes with that. No, I’m here to…watch the game. And have fun.”
Her face scrunches as if she’s swallowed something sour. I smother a laugh.
“Okay, yay!” Kavi pulls us towards the stairs, but deflates right at the entrance. “Wait, you two don’t have seats, right?”
Twenty minutes later, the three of us are sitting against the glass.
“How do you do it?” Kavi wonders, unabashedly staring at me.
Sonya’s nose wrinkles. “He’s a people person.”
“But it was like magic. One minute we were talking to the people sitting here, the next you’ve got their life story and are signing autographs, taking photos, upgrading them to watch from the box, but also giving them ideas on where to travel because it’s their fiftieth anniversary. And they’re thanking you?”
I smirk. “You’re right, Kavi. I am magic!”
Sonya and Kavi groan, before their attention is stolen. Team Canada is skating onto the ice.
One player heads straight over to stand in front of us.
Kavi must have texted him about our new seats.
Even in his gear, you can see the tattoos marking his neck and hands.
Normally, his mouth is permanently turned down but it softens as soon as he sees his wife.
He hasn’t even noticed Sonya and me here.
Dmitri’s glove comes up to tap the glass. Kavi leans forward and puts her palm on the other side.
“I’ll never get over that,” Sonya mumbles.
I snap my gaze over and stare at her. I’m imagining me being on the ice, skating over to Sonya in the stands, eyes only and always just on her, lifting my glove—
Kavi pokes me. Lokhov finally noticed his wife wasn’t alone. His eyes have widened on me, then they flick over to Sonya. Then come back to me. It’s like the gears are turning in his head, and that’s when I remember—
Fuck. The group chat. With us showing up together right after I sent those messages, it’s incriminating. Really incriminating. He’s going to guess my cock concerns were about Sonya!
Before Dmitri can say anything about that—not that he logically can right now—I knock on the glass. The defenseman grunts, trying to ignore the sound, but I don’t let up.
Kavi pulls out her camera. The one she always has on her.
Dmitri glances at her. One pleading look from his wife is all it takes for menacing Dmitri to give in. He scowls and taps his glove on the other side, across from my hand. Our own fist bump.
I beam.
Kavi snaps a photo. “Another memory for the best friends forever album!”
“I hate you all except Kavi and Sonya,” Dmitri calls out, before turning around and skating away.
I grin wider at the two women beside me. “It’s really a suffocating amount of love that I receive from him.”
We watch Dmitri skate over to Quinn. He points us out in the stands. Quinn does an energetic wave with his hockey stick, before squaring himself off in the net.
Things move fast afterwards.
As soon as the whistle blows, familiar adrenaline courses through me. I can taste the rush on my tongue as if I’m the one out there in my uniform, clutching my stick, warming up with the puck, slapping it so fast it becomes a dark blur.
When the puck drops, my teeth ache. I’m smiling but in this stuck way. I thought that I could handle this. That watching hockey at this international level wouldn’t be the same as playing it. That it didn’t count and I wasn’t betraying the memory of Jesse.
But it strikes me that I was wrong.
So wrong.
All of a sudden, I’m thrust back into the past.