Chapter 30
packy
I woke knowing I’d fucked up.
As the Vegas sun cut through the gap in the drapes, my legs felt surprisingly good for the morning after a game. But the knot in my stomach was so tight it hurt.
I reached for my phone. Nico’s message stared back at me: Sure. Good night.
Those three words should have been fine, but they weren’t. The message wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t Nix.
I scrolled up and read my message from last night. My stomach clenched harder. Usually, we couldn’t shut each other up, trading jokes and updates until one of us fell asleep mid-sentence. These texts looked like we were strangers checking boxes.
This couldn’t stand, so I started typing.
PACKY: Morning, handsome. Sorry I had to go out last night. It was my turn to pay, and I knew it was the middle of the night in NY. You doing okay?
I stared at the screen. Nothing. Finally, I got up, used the bathroom, and came back. Still nothing. Then the screen lit up. Typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, and came back. Then they disappeared again.
“Fuck.”
Finally, a message came in.
NIX: Morning. I’m good thanks. It’s 10:30 here, so I’m at the rink. About to go to morning skate. Hope you slept well.
NIX: Fun night?
My chest tightened. He was being polite, but since when were we polite?
PACKY: No. I’d have much rather talked to you. But it was my turn to pay, so I had to go. We’re flying home today. Talk when I get back? I’ll call as soon as I get to my house.
His reply came fast.
NIX: Sure. Have a good flight.
“Sure”? Did he not want to talk to me?
PACKY: I’ll be thinking about you until then. Have a great day.
NIX: Me too. Gotta run.
I stared at the heart emoji, hoping it would explain what the fuck was going on. Normal words, usual emoji. So why did I feel like I’d been dismissed?
A few days earlier, I’d been lying in bed with him, thinking everything finally made sense. Now I was analyzing text messages like they were depositions.
Maybe it was nothing. He really was heading to the ice, right? Was I spiraling over a few words and finding problems that weren’t there? Or had I already fucked this up worse than I thought?
Shit.
I shut my bag and headed for the elevator. My stomach was still in knots.
We rolled into the airport like a horde of zombies in Warriors sweats. A few of the guys had stayed out too late, and it showed. Riley shuffled along, muttering about a headache. Dog was fully asleep on his feet, and Holky kept jerking himself awake every few steps.
Logan groaned. “Goddamn Vegas. Feels like the airport is hungover.”
Riley slung an arm around him. “Because it is, babe.”
Holky elbowed my ribs. “Your boyfriend watch the game last night?”
“Pretty sure Nico did.”
“Pretty sure?” Dog asked. “That’s the answer of a man too emotionally fragile to confirm.”
Edwards snorted. “Emotionally fragile? Packy? No. Nico, maybe.”
“Guess it was too late in New York for you to jerk off on a video call,” Holky said.
“Definitely no video, and we didn’t even talk,” I said. “We were both tired. Chill.”
After we left our luggage with the concierge, Riley grinned. “We’ll chill. But for the record, you’re walking around this morning with an undeniable ‘I miss my man’ face.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I tried to sound grouchy, but my mouth twitched anyway.
Dog made a kissy noise. “How long till you see each other again?”
If I hadn’t liked those idiots, I’d have gone to Terminal 1 and flown commercial.
Instead, I followed them outside, where we boarded and claimed our usual places near the back.
Riley, Holky, and Gabe sat at a card table; Dog and I sat across the aisle from them with our Switches.
After Logan and Brody settled in with their tablets, Harpy flopped down in the seat across from Dog and me.
He flashed his shit-stirring grin. “Tell us, Packy. When you FaceTime Rossi, do you use good lighting or rely on your natural glow?”
Holky groaned, way over the top. “Jesus, Harpy. Packy knows all the angles. He’s got that soft-boy, ‘wanna mess around?’ lighting preset.”
Riley snorted. “They don’t jerk off on the phone. They stare at each other until they melt.”
“Packy melts first,” Dog said.
Gabe scoffed. “Bullshit. Rossi’s the puddle. Packy’s strong.”
“It’s all those protein bars he eats,” Brody said.
Logan looked up and grinned. “He needs those for when Nico’s not there to make protein shakes.”
They cracked up, and I couldn’t help laughing too. As much as I hated to admit it, they were funny, but I still flipped them off when things quieted down. “Can’t you assholes talk about anything else?”
“We can,” Holky said through a big smirk. “But will we? Absolutely not.”
“Tell us more about Packo.” Riley waggled his brows. “I could use a thrill.”
“Fuck off.”
Harpy leaned forward. “Remember when Logan and Riley were getting together, and you were so interested in who pitched and who caught? Give us that much.”
“Fuck. Off.” I stuck my middle finger high in the air for dramatic effect.
Riley narrowed his eyes. “Just keep breathing if you like it when Nico gives it to you hard.”
“Stop.” Logan’s voice cut through the cackles. “Too far.”
They went quiet for about three seconds.
Brody pointed at me. “You’re tender now, Packy. I was sitting next to you yesterday when you texted him from the bus. You used an emoji.”
“Did not.”
“You absolutely did. A heart.”
Holky clutched his chest. “A man transformed.”
Dog nodded slowly. “You’re the face of hashtag Packo now. Better guard your heart.”
I snorted, trying to play it off, but the words stung more than they should have.
Harpy met my eyes across the table. “We’re giving you shit because we’re happy for you. It’s good to see you smiling again.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Riley said. “Nico’s solid. We wouldn’t chirp you this hard if we didn’t mean it.”
Dog nudged my shoulder. “We’re your family. We’ve got your back.”
“And Nico’s got his something else,” Holky stage whispered.
I laughed again, though my insides were buzzing.
Harpy went to play cards with the other three, and Dog and I played until the flight attendant brought coffee and banana muffins.
After inhaling half a muffin, Dog leaned close. “Okay, bud. Spill.”
“Spill what?”
“You were weird last night.”
“I was tired.”
“You’re still weird this morning.”
“Still tired.”
“Packy.” His voice softened, which scared the hell out of me because Dog was usually loud. “I’m happy for you, but you have to protect your heart. Reporters are baiting you, and fans hold up signs at games like they know everything. Shit gets twisted.”
I flinched. My stomach tightened the way it had in my hotel room.
Dog didn’t miss it. “I’m not saying Nico will hurt you. He looks at you like you hung the goddamn moon. But this is a lot, being with a man for the first time, with the whole world watching.”
I stared at the tray table. “I know.”
While we ate, I wondered what was new on social media, then told myself not to look. Five minutes later, I had Instagram open. Bad idea.
The first post on my feed was from a hockey media account with over a million followers. The photo was from the event in San Francisco. It showed Nico and me mid-moment, facing each other, eyes locked as if nothing else mattered.
The caption hit like a punch:
Is Warriors’ Kirby Paquette Gay?
Sources say the chemistry between Paquette and Nico Rossi is real.
My mouth went dry as I tapped to expand the text.
League sources say Paquette has been privately exploring his sexuality.
A teammate described the dynamic as “close friendship,” but the evidence suggests something more.
Fans have noticed the shift from hostile rivalry to a level of comfort that raises questions.
Is the Warriors forward testing new waters with Rossi, who is openly gay? This is a developing story.
My heart rattled like a snare drum. I set my phone on the tray table and struggled to breathe.
Dog glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Well, reporters.”
His eyebrows shot up when he looked down at my phone. “Fuck, Packy.”
All I could think about was Nico opening Instagram and seeing this. He’d probably wonder if it would make me freak out, if he should pull back before I did. After how things went earlier, the thought scared the shit out of me.
Dog rested a hand on my knee. “Nobody with a brain takes this stuff seriously. You okay?”
I nodded. “Tired.” Turning toward the window, I stared at the clouds drifting beneath us.
Please don’t let Nix see that post before I can talk to him.
A few hours later, I FaceTimed him as soon as I got home.
“Hey, baby.” His smile filled the screen. “Been waiting to talk to you all day.”
He sounded normal, so I took my first deep breath in hours. “Me too. I miss you so goddamn much.”
“No more than I miss you. Four more days until our event in Buffalo.” He cocked his head. “I’ll be staying with you, right?”
“Just try to get out of it.”
“Exactly what I wanted to hear.” He leaned back and gazed into my eyes. “I’m so happy to hear from you. Let’s talk about anything but hockey.”
The static faded. At least for now.