Chapter 41 Sonya #2
Quinn doesn’t like to talk about it, but I know now that he wasn’t given access to a phone when they took him away.
He couldn’t call or write to me. And that once he was in a place to do so, it was impossible to find me because of how many times my foster guardians moved around.
But it was only when he had money to hire a private investigator that Quinn was able to track me down.
That was around five years ago.
Now he’s standing in front of me, holding himself back from asking for the third time whether I need anything or not.
In the background, some Team Canada players are setting up a corner for video games. They’re loud and poking fun at each other. The smell of popcorn and pizza fills the air.
I cross my arms.
Quinn tucks his hands into his pockets. “I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t think you wanted to come.”
When he found out he was playing for Team Canada in Oslo, he’d offered to pay for my flights and accommodations if I wanted to come along.
I’d turned him down for the same reasons I usually did. I was busy with ballet.
Except now…
I clear my throat. “Um, yeah.”
Quinn glances over to where Hughes is talking to Lokhov about Jung. Then he looks at me again. His eyebrow rises. “And you two came here together?”
“It’s not a big deal.” I defend, my voice going higher than usual as I scrape a hand through my hair.
At the same time, Kavi strolls over to us and asks Quinn, “Did you tell her yet?”
“Tell me what?” I ask, desperate for a change of topic.
Kavi steps closer, spreading her hands out. “Okay, it’s surreal. But we met your doppelg?nger here. Someone exactly like you.”
“A Sonya copycat,” confirms Quinn, his expression amused.
Hughes walks over, apparently having overhead. He smirks. “Not possible. No woman compares to our Sonya.”
“Actually, it’s a he,” says Quinn. “He plays for Finland.”
“Call him over.” Kavi gives me a knowing smile, her eyes lit up with mischief. “I want to see them together. What if they’re soulmates?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Hughes’ smile drop.
“Hey, Mikael Saros,” yells Quinn, gesturing at the couches where some other athletes are lounging. “I want to introduce you to someone!”
A tall giant of a man gets up and heads toward us, his gait leisurely.
He’s dressed in all black, his hand casually in his pocket.
His hair is so blonde it’s almost white and somehow neatly unruly, cropped on the sides but longer at the nape of his neck.
It makes the contrast between his features and clothes even more striking.
I have no idea if he’s all tattooed like Lokhov is, but his knuckles are marked with ink.
The whole look is intimidating and lethally sexy.
Piercing gray eyes cut to Quinn when he reaches us. “Yeah?”
“Meet Sonya,” says Kavi.
This isn’t planned, but a staring contest ensues. Our mouths settle into familiar downward shapes.
“Apparently we’re alike,” Mikael says eventually.
“I don’t see it.” That’s Hughes. He sounds like he’s standing right behind me, but I don’t turn around to confirm. An electric current runs down my spine in response to his low voice being so close to my ear. I want to shiver, but don’t. Can’t.
Flattening my lips, I tilt my head sideways. “Appreciating black doesn’t make us the same person.”
“Agreed,” deadpans Mikael.
“And I can’t stand most people.” I’ve no idea why I needed to clarify that, only that I have. I expect him to argue that he’s not most people.
“I also hate most people.”
“See?” whispers Kavi.
“I also don’t love anyone,” Hughes boasts louder than usual.
“That’s a lie,” says Lokhov. He’s come and wrapped an arm around Kavi’s midsection.
“Remember your last birthday?” Quinn brings up eagerly. “We ate at that pizza place in New York, and when the bill came, you paid for everyone’s meals. And when they clapped, you got on the chair and said you loved them all?”
“That doesn’t ring a bell,” Hughes denies, scowling.
“Okay, how about this? Remember when Jai’s boyfriend broke up with him? That prick who cheated on him. You made us start practice with a group hug, telling everyone to share one thing we loved about Jai.”
“He was a rookie at the time, and you’re…misremembering,” insists Hughes, making a frustrated noise. “I said to share reasons why he’s worthy of love.”
“And then you said we loved him,” quips Quinn.
“I remember that,” Lokhov adds.
The two hockey players keep going. There are plenty of examples.
“Remember,” says Quinn with a crooked smile, “when Adrian peer-pressured the whole team and we spent the afternoon planting trees in that one park? What did our captain do? The really old tree, he went up to it and hugged it and said—”
“Something about love,” finishes Lokhov, snorting.
Hughes comes around to stand beside me. “Trees don’t count! Who doesn’t love oxygen?”
Okay, what’s wrong with me? A smile tugs at my lips, wanting to come out in front of everyone in public. It’s because the sight of him so flustered is undeniably cute.
They’re clearly making fun of him. But it’s also unavoidably obvious how much Hughes cradles emotions in his hands and corrals others to join him to be more generous, open, earnest, and sweet.
I should turn around and run the other way.
His vulnerability is clearly contagious and has been infecting me continuously.
Because I might be justifying everything by saying I’m balancing the scales but does that properly explain why I’m doing things I’ve never done before?
Flying overseas, sitting on laps, asking about childhoods, secretly holding hands at a game?
I tuck my elbows tightly by my side and rub my arms.
Mikael steps in front of me. “How long are you staying?”
“Just for the night. No matter what, I have to go back tomorrow.”
Factoring in travel time, that means I’ll have taken three days off. Mostly. Close enough.
I really hope we find Jung tonight at the party.
“What’re your plans for tonight?” Mikael asks.
“There’s a party.” Kavi answers for me, shamelessly eavesdropping. “You should come, too. I’ll get my husband to text you the details.”
I give my best friend a pointed look.
She ignores me.
The very corner of Mikael’s mouth lifts. It’s not even close to being a smile. “I’ll see you there.”
As he walks out of the room, heads turn. Men and women drop their conversations, distracted by the sight of him. The attractive beast of a Finnish hockey player with the perfect cheekbones seems used to it.
On an unrelated note, Hughes’ expression has gone unreadable. Completely blank in a way I’ve never seen before. Usually he’s always emoting in some way or another. He’s also no longer arguing with Dmitri or Quinn.