Chapter 16 Nico
nico
By Wednesday, I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t waiting for his name to show up on my screen.
He hadn’t responded to my message on Sunday or Monday, and I tried to play it cool.
When he finally texted me after his game on Monday night with “Miss you too,” I was so relieved it took a moment to catch my breath.
At first, I held back, but then I lost my mind and went into full shameless mode.
NICO: You looked really cute when you were pissed off.
PACKY: You always flirt by text?
NICO: Only when someone’s worth it.
PACKY: I’ll take that as a compliment. Gotta go. See you in five days.
Jesus. I’d taken a risk, considering we were barely off enemy status, but he was the one who brought up flirting. And at the end, he’d said, “See you in five days.”
Five days.
Not “See you later.” And not “Talk soon.”
I put my face in my hands and groaned. I was pathetic, obsessing over a few words like I was back in eighth grade, passing notes to a girlfriend sitting across the room.
We traded more texts over the next few days, things like “Nice goal tonight,” “Busy day,” and “Can you believe Boston blew that lead?”
Before long, my pulse jumped with every buzz of the phone. Half the time, it was Noah sending memes, or the Condors group chat with its usual gossip and banter. About once a day, though, it was Pack. On Thursday, I messaged him before morning skate.
NICO: Don’t forget to bring your lucky tape to Quebec. You’ll need it in our one-on-one demo.
It wasn’t even a minute before my screen lit up with a reply.
PACKY: Still got it wrapped around my stick from last week.
I read it again. “Still got it wrapped around my stick.”
Shit. Which stick does he mean? And is he talking about tape, or his hand?
My heart pounded like I’d been skating suicides.
Maybe I was reading into it because I missed him, but the words brought back images of Pack’s rough voice when we were in bed.
He’d been as turned on as I was. If my alarm had waited thirty more seconds to beep, I’d have had his sweatpants off and his cock in my mouth.
Why the fuck didn’t I take a later plane and face the consequences for missing a game?
The thoughts stayed with me all day. At practice, I missed two passes in a row because all I could think about was how Pack had looked when I was on top of him. That goddamn text had turned my mind upside down. “Still got it wrapped around my stick from last week.” Shit.
That night, I stood by the window in my bedroom, scrolling through our message thread. There was nothing new, only short exchanges that shouldn’t have mattered so much. I typed “See you soon,” deleted it, and then did both again. Fuck me. I set the phone on my nightstand and got ready for bed.
My chest was tight as we taxied to the terminal in Quebec City. In a few minutes, I’d see Pack again, and I had no idea what to expect. Would he be happy to see me? Still feel like he had when I left him that morning?
I pulled out my phone.
NICO: Hey Pack! I’m here. You on the ground yet?
Then I thumbed a message to Marissa.
NICO: Landed in QC. Is Paquette here? Where’s the car?
Her reply came quickly.
OUR TORMENTOR: Curbside outside international arrivals. Your partner’s plane is taxiing now. I told him to meet you at the car.
Partner.
I pocketed my phone and found the exit. Outside, the wind sliced through my jacket. Quebec City had real winter, the kind that made New York feel like a joke. I shoved my hands into my pockets and scanned the curb until I spotted a sign: Paquette/Rossi.
The driver greeted me in French-accented English and opened the door. “Mr. Paquette?”
I ducked into the warm car. “No, I’m Nico Rossi.”
“We are still waiting for Mr. Paquette?”
“Yes. His plane just landed, so he’ll be here soon.”
“Good,” the driver said. “It isn’t a long drive to the hotel.”
Thank God. We can’t get there quickly enough for me.
I watched the terminal exit as people came and went. My breath caught when Pack appeared, smiling as he rolled a suitcase toward the car.
The driver got out to handle the luggage, and Pack slid in beside me. A grin spread across his face. “Nix.”
“Pack.” My voice was steadier than I felt.
“Long time,” he said.
“A week.”
He chuckled, a low, rough sound that went straight to my dick. “Felt longer.”
My pulse went into overdrive.
We were quiet as the driver left the airport and pulled onto the highway. Snow streaked across the windshield, but the road was clear. Pack looked out the window, then at me, and then back out again. His hand rested on the seat between us, and without thinking, I slid mine over until they touched.
He looked confused but didn’t pull away.
“Ready for another round of public humiliation?” I asked.
He laughed. “Born ready.”
By the time the hotel came into view, I wanted to kiss him so much my lips tingled, but the entrance was clogged with people. While we signed autographs, I nudged him. “Surprised you showed up, Paquette. Thought you’d fake an emergency to avoid me.”
“Come on, Rossi. The only reason I showed up was to keep you from embarrassing the league.”
A woman gave us a hat to sign and said, “You two should get a room.”
Pack smirked. “Funny thing is, we’re getting two.”
He glanced at me. I smiled and gave him an upward nod. Doesn’t mean we have to use both.
The Fairmont Le Chateau Frontenac did not disappoint.
When the bellman left me alone in my room, I turned in a circle and whistled.
Soft golden light streamed through the arched windows, making the dark wood furniture gleam.
A massive bed anchored the space, with a fluffy white comforter turned down enough to make me want to crawl under it.
It was too romantic for one person, and my thoughts turned to Packy.
He’d look incredible standing by the window with snow falling behind him and the frozen St. Lawrence River below.
I hated how much I wanted him there, not because I hated him, but because I didn’t know what I’d do if he’d changed his mind.
I showered, then pulled on gray sweatpants and a Condors hoodie. After spritzing on a touch of cologne, I headed out. It was time to find out what Packy wanted.
He opened his door barefoot, dressed in sweatpants and a faded Warriors T-shirt. His hair was damp from a shower, and he smelled like body wash and cologne. The sight of him nearly knocked the breath out of me.
I swallowed and said, “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stepped back and let me in.
For a second, neither of us moved. Then he cleared his throat. “Schedule says lobby at eight. Dinner with the committee that’s trying to bring a team back to Quebec City.”
I nodded, and the silence stretched.
“You okay?” he asked. “You were quiet in the car.”
“Yeah. You?”
“Thinking.”
“About?”
He huffed. “Stuff.”
“That’s specific.”
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t quite manage a smile. “You’re still a pain in the ass, Rossi.”
I should’ve fired back. Instead, I said, “Were you thinking about me this week?”
He went still. “What?”
“I don’t—”
“You keep looking at me like you’re trying to figure something out.” His voice was rough. “And I’m losing my mind trying not to say the wrong thing.”
“Then say something right.”
He took a step toward me. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore. We fight, we joke, we text stupid shit. I tell myself to step back. Then you show up, and I forget every reason I had for keeping my distance.”
“Pack—”
“Don’t.” He looked away. “If you tell me I’m imagining this…”
I moved closer. “Say what you mean.”
He hesitated, then met my eyes. “You sure you want me to?”
“Yes.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. His throat worked like he was trying to get the words out, but nothing came.
Finally, I whispered, “Say it.”
His breath caught. I closed the distance between us and cupped his face.
“Fuck,” he whispered as his hand found the back of my neck.
The first brush of our lips was barely a kiss. Contact, maybe. Heat sizzled up my spine. I leaned in again, and this time, the kiss was real. We wrapped our arms around each other and held on for dear life.
When we finally separated, he leaned his forehead against mine while we both panted.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“Yeah.” My voice caught. “That was—”
“Amazing.”
“Yeah,” I repeated because I couldn’t think of anything else that didn’t sound stupid. We were still holding each other.
I pulled back enough to see his face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“Yes, you should have.” He flicked his eyes to the side, then back at me. “I don’t know if I would’ve found the nerve. I don’t have this figured out, Nix. But right now, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
I smiled and kissed his nose. “Let’s get on the bed.”