Chapter 6
packy
Nico flashed an infuriating smirk as the car pulled up, and I should’ve known better than to hold the door open for him.
Of course, he would turn basic courtesy into some kind of power play.
But I was trying, really trying, to get through this PR nightmare without making headlines for the wrong reasons.
“After you,” I said.
He didn’t move. “Trying to score good-guy points already? Are there some cameras nearby?”
So much for trying.
“Just being polite,” I said. “Wouldn’t want you whining if I stepped on your fancy shoes.”
“They’re Italian leather.”
He dragged his eyes down my body before settling on my shoes, then snickering.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with Italian anything,” I said.
I looked him over, searching for something to criticize. Perfectly tailored gray wool pants, and a blue polo that fit like it had been sewn onto him. Cashmere, probably. Custom-built for showing off.
I considered asking for his workout routine, but rolled my eyes instead. “Pretty sure I could manage spaghetti.”
“Judging by your tie, I’m not sure you can even manage dressing yourself.”
“Very funny. I think you need an attitude adjustment before we see those kids.”
Leaning close enough for me to catch his cologne, he lowered his voice. “Careful, Paquette. Someone might think you’re flirting.”
I snorted. “You don’t have the right equipment for me. Besides, flirting requires interest.”
“Good.” He finally moved, sliding into the back seat but stopping short, blocking my way. His smirk didn’t fade. “Then you won’t mind walking to the school. I don’t think it’s far.”
I held my temper and kept my voice down. “Fuck off and move over.”
The driver looked back, grinning. “Everything okay back there?”
Nico’s smile flipped to charming. “Never better. I’m giving my buddy a hard time.”
He slid over, and I climbed in and patted his chest. “No one jokes around like my bestie.”
The driver laughed. “They said you two might be trouble. Buckle up and behave.”
“Aye aye, cap’n,” Nico said. “I’m Nico, and this is Packy. You stuck with us all day?”
“Yes, and I’m Toby. Let me know if you need anything.”
I met Nico’s eyes as the car pulled away. A whole day with him was sure to be a disaster.
While we pulled away from the curb, Nico opened his mouth to say something. Since I didn’t want Toby thinking Nico was in charge, I jumped in. “The people at the league said you’d have some gear for us?”
Toby glanced in the mirror. “I picked it up from the sports supply store on my way to get you. The woman from the league told me to give it to Greater Atlanta Youth Hockey after you leave.”
“Sounds like a good cause,” Nico said.
“Very good,” I said, unwilling to let him have the last word.
Nico glanced at me. “Great, in fact.”
“Su-perb,” I said.
He shook his head. “All right, Paquette. I’ll give you that round.”
Half an hour later, as we pulled into the school’s parking lot, Nico turned toward me and eased his hand across the seat, stopping just short of my leg. “Let’s have fun with the kids, okay? Truce until we’re done here?”
Was he serious?
“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he added.
I nodded once. “Fine. Truce till we leave here.”
Thirty minutes later, after a meeting with the principal, we were in the school gym unboxing the equipment Toby had brought. Nico opened the last box and shook his head. “I’m glad we don’t have to haul this crap around everywhere we go.”
“Aw, poor baby. Worried you might break a nail?”
“Fuck off. You’re the one who always hated carrying your luggage on road trips.” He pulled a face and launched into the stupid imitation he’d always used to needle me, voice going high and whiny: “I hate carrying luggage. It gets so heavy.”
“I never said that.”
“You said it every time we traveled for two years.”
I put the last cone in place and straightened. “Liar. At least I didn’t practice my cellys in front of a mirror like a ballerina before opening night.”
He rolled his eyes. “Good one. Did you rehearse that?”
“I don’t rehearse for you, but I do like annoying you.”
His face flushed. “You are—” He stopped, blew out a breath, and surprised me with a smile. “What are we doing, Pack? We called a truce.”
Pack? He hasn’t called me that since…
I was ready to call bullshit until I realized the smile was real. Except for the press conference, he hadn’t smiled at me like that for seven years.
“You’re right.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s try to have fun.”
The kids filed in, and after the teachers wrangled them into seats, the principal introduced us. The kids clapped and cheered like we were movie stars. I caught Nico’s eye, and we shared a smile.
When the noise settled, he held out a hand, telling me to go first.
“Hi,” I said into the mic. The kids erupted again, so loud I had to wait before going on. “I’m Packy. I play for the Buffalo Warriors.”
I nodded at Nico, and he leaned in beside me. “I’m Nico, and I play for the New York Condors.”
More cheering.
We asked who’d seen a hockey game, and about a quarter of the hands shot up. Before we could explain anything, a girl near the front asked us to do exactly that.
After we covered the basics, Nico said, “Talking only goes so far. Want to see a demo?”
That got the loudest cheer yet.
I winked at him. “Why don’t you demonstrate while I talk?”
He grinned and played it up for the room. “My buddy Packy always wants to do the talking.”
I leaned in to the mic for a stage whisper. “Don’t tell him I’m letting him skate because he suc— er, is bad at talking.”
The kids laughed, and Nico cupped a hand beside his mouth. “Got him fooled. I’d rather skate than talk any day.”
He demonstrated stick handling first, then waved me over for a one-on-one.
Because hockey players can’t help themselves, we were competitive from the start.
I went at him fast, and he deked left and stole the puck.
The kids screamed. I made a quick turn and checked him with my shoulder, just hard enough to throw him off.
Once we got into it, we forgot the audience and played hard.
Goddamn, it was fun. We were all precision and speed, trading the lead back and forth.
I’d forgotten how good it was to play with him, the good times we used to have.
Nico won by a point, and the kids blew the roof off the place, chanting both our names.
I leaned close to Nico’s ear. “Ready for them to play? We’ll let them try stickhandling around the cones, then passing and shooting.”
Nico smirked. “Tell them not to shoot too hard. We don’t want to be responsible for denting the principal.”
It took a while to get everyone through forehand and backhand passes, and then wrist shots.
“Should we show them how to do a slapshot?” I asked.
Nico grinned like a third grader. “I’d say yes, but remember, no dents.”
“Shame,” I said. “I always wanted to dent my principal.”
His breath was warm on my neck when he whispered, “Pretty sure I did once. She was a fucking trip.”
We laughed so hard people turned to stare. One of the teachers wandered over, shaking her head. “I should be scowling because we’ll never calm them down, but this looks fun. May I try?”
A few other teachers joined in, and the kids loved watching them embarrass themselves. When we moved on to Q and A, everyone was still grinning.
The next fifteen minutes were the best kind of chaos.
“Do you ever fight?” a kid asked.
“Only when he’s wrong,” I said.
“So, every day,” Nico deadpanned.
The kids’ laughter was contagious, and we looked at each other while we joined in. It was too easy.
“How long have you been friends?” a redheaded girl asked.
“Since college,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “Wow. You guys are old.”
At the end of the session, we signed notebooks, homework, and even a few sneakers. When the kids left, the quiet pressed in. We packed up the equipment and carried it to the car, then climbed into the back seat.
Nico looked over at me. “Not bad for a truce.” His voice was lighter than I’d heard it in years.
“Yeah,” I said. “Almost forgot what it was like when we weren’t at each other’s throats.”
He was quiet for a moment, staring out the window. Finally, he turned to me and said, “We used to be good at this. Being a team.”
For a moment, it was college again. Just the two of us, on the same side of everything.
“Guess we’re still pretty good at it,” he said.
I smiled. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
We rode across town in silence as I tried to sort out what had happened. My pulse was still buzzing from playing one-on-one with him again. We’d fallen into an easy rhythm without even trying.
Damn it, I missed that. And as much as I hated to admit it, I missed him.