Chapter 38 Nico
nico
I started falling apart on day three. For the first two days after leaving Buffalo, I lied to myself. Pack was tired, locked in for the Lynx series. I convinced myself the silence was only temporary, something we’d laugh about soon, stretched out on his sofa, chirping each other for being dramatic.
By the third morning, the lies stopped working.
The gray early light matched my mood. The knot in my stomach was still as tight as it had been when his house disappeared in my rearview mirror.
My phone sat face-down on the nightstand where I’d put it last night, as if that would stop me from checking it all night. It hadn’t.
I couldn’t resist looking at it before I got out of bed. My eyes stung when there were no notifications, texts, or missed calls. Desperate to understand, I opened our thread and read our last messages. They were from late in the day after I left Buffalo.
NICO: Wanted to let you know I made it home okay.
I’d had so much else to say and was writing more when his reply came in.
PACK: Really glad to hear that. Thanks for coming. We’ll talk after playoffs.
He was obviously in no mood to hear anything else, so I deleted what I’d typed and sent something else.
NICO: Good luck. I’m here anytime.
Since then, I’d stared at the texts so many times that the words barely registered anymore. With spectacular lack of success, my brain tried to rearrange them into something better.
Miss you already, maybe.
Can’t wait to see you. That would have worked.
Or best of all, We’re not over.
When nothing changed on the screen, I dropped the phone beside me and closed my eyes. The apartment was too quiet. Usually, I liked the silence, but now it was suffocating me.
I got up because staying in bed made things worse. My chest was empty, and my temples throbbed like someone was driving nails into them. I went through my usual routine: making coffee, showering, and staring at myself in the mirror, wondering why I had to look so very bad.
Get it together. He didn’t say it was over.
He also didn’t say it wasn’t.
The coffee tasted burnt. Even though I wasn’t hungry, I opened the fridge and found nothing but a sad row of leftovers. I slammed the door shut and checked my phone again. Blank.
Fuck me. I can’t live like this.
I opened our messages and typed, “Hey, how are you holding up?” My insides vibrated as my thumbs hovered over the screen. At the last minute, I didn’t tap send. Pack had asked for space, and I agreed. If I reached out now and he didn’t answer, I might go under. So I erased the text.
A sudden buzz sent the phone flying out of my hand, and I barely caught it.
Could it be Pack?
Sadly, it was only a reminder about the ice time I’d booked for the guys to skate. Hoping it would make me feel better to see them, I threw on some sweats, grabbed my gear bag, and headed out.
At the rink, Jace was taping his stick while Theo and Noah laced their skates. Kai was sitting in his stall, talking staccato-style to McKay about some new game mechanic.
“Rosco,” Jace called. “You alive?”
“Define alive.” I sounded normal, which felt like another lie.
The ice felt strange. Usually, the first push was pleasure, but today it seemed like hard work.
Every stride dragged. We took it easy, skating laps and practicing stops and starts.
My body moved the same way it had for twenty-three years of hockey, so that wasn’t the problem.
The issue was my distracted mind, constantly pulling me back to Pack’s house.
Too fast. Need space. After playoffs.
I caught an edge near the boards and almost fell. The pain was sharp enough to make me hiss, and when I stopped, the guys were already circling back.
“You awake, Rosco?” Theo asked. “Looks like you’re skating in your sleep.”
“Just tired. Long week.”
Noah coasted backward and tilted his head. “You look like shit. Are you eating?”
“Yeah.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Sometimes.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
He dropped it because that’s who Noah was. He trusted I’d come to him when I was ready.
Kai, who’d been doing C-cuts nearby, spun around and stopped close enough that our skates touched. “What’s your brain doing?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Nothing helpful.”
He hummed. I could see him filing that response away. “Coming to lunch?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Skating didn’t help, and neither did food. We went to a deli near the rink and sat in our usual booth. When some fans asked for autographs, we smiled and made small talk. I angled my face when they asked for selfies. No need for everyone on Instagram to see me looking like shit.
After we finished huge pastrami sandwiches, Noah clasped his hands and set them on the table. “Okay. Everyone, tell us something good about your week.”
Jace groaned. “We’re doing feelings now?”
“Yep,” Noah said. “I’m an alternate captain, and I hereby decree it’s time to share.”
Theo laughed, and McKay talked about beating his personal record for bench presses. Kai launched into a ninety-miles-per-hour rundown of a new hyper-focus project that involved building a custom stats model. His words tumbled over each other as he bounced in his seat.
“Rosco?” Noah prompted. “Your turn.”
I picked up my fork, then set it down again. “Don’t know. The season’s over, and I’m still here.”
Theo winced. “Jesus. Ten out of ten on optimism.”
Kai, who knew me better than anyone there, watched closely.
Noah let it pass, and the conversation moved on. Jace bragged about his latest hookup, Theo told us about a new car he’d ordered, and Noah mentioned a trip to Bali with his girlfriend.
I nodded at the right times and smiled when I was supposed to. Once, I even laughed just to fit in.
Jace told more of his hookup story, something about a hot waiter and a bottle of tequila, but I kept waiting for my phone to buzz. Every time someone else’s phone went off, my pulse jumped.
I’d barely kicked off my shoes when the doorbell rang. My heart jumped as I crossed the living room in five long strides. On the way there, I planned how I’d push Pack against the wall, kiss the hell out of him, and tell him how I felt before he could get away again.
The visitor turned out to be Kai, hoodie half-zipped, beanie pulled down over his forehead. A paper bag dangled from one hand, and a six-pack of soda from the other.
“Not the person you were hoping for, I’m guessing,” he said.
The disappointment hit so hard my knees wobbled, and I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself. “You’re a solid second,” I said, trying to manage a smile. “Maybe third.”
“I’ll take top three. Can I come in, or are we doing this in the hallway?”
“Doing what?”
He shouldered past me, lifting the bag. “Cookies. Seemed cruel to show up with feelings and no sugar.”
“For the record, sugar’s the only reason I’m letting you in.”
“Exactly why I planned ahead.”
I closed the door and leaned against it, bracing myself for what was sure to be a difficult conversation.
Kai set the bag and drinks on the coffee table and turned to face me. “You want the soft start, or the one where I tell you your misery face is deeply troublesome?”
I tried to laugh, but it caught halfway and threatened to become something worse. “Soft.”
He flopped down on the sofa and patted the spot beside him.
“You haven’t been yourself since you got back from Buffalo.
Quiet, dodging my texts. When I called, you gave me some bullshit about wishing Packy the best.” He ticked off more points on his fingers.
“You haven’t chirped me once. You skated like shit today.
At lunch, you looked like you were at a funeral. ”
I stayed by the door. “That’s the soft start?”
He ran his fingers over the pattern on the sofa, first with one hand, then the other. “The other version involves me guessing until I say something that makes you cry.”
“Kai…” I swallowed hard. “No.”
“No?” He put a hand over his heart and rubbed. “You’re my best friend, Nico. I love you. I’d rather hear it from you than TikTok.”
I could have lied and blamed how our season ended, the distance from Pack, the stress. But I was worn out, and I’d never been able to fool Kai about anything. I walked over and sat down next to him.
He handed me a soda, then held out the bag. “Chocolate chip macadamia.”
“Fuck you for bringing something I can’t resist.” I took a cookie and demolished it in three bites.
He had black cherry soda, of course. I drank too fast and burped.
“Glad that’s settled,” Kai said. “Okay. Start wherever it hurts.”
“Not helpful.”
He passed me another cookie. “Try the middle, then.”
I stared at the cookie until my vision blurred, then dropped it back in the bag. Kai drank soda while he waited.
“He asked for space,” I said. “Until after the playoffs. Said he didn’t want to rush anything.”
“Only until after the playoffs?”
“He didn’t… I’m afraid that was a nice way of saying forever.”
“Hm.” Kai started on another cookie. “Did he say he was done?”
“No.”
Kai rested a hand on my knee. “Did you ask if he was done?”
I hesitated, then shook my head.
“Did he say anything else?”
“That he didn’t want to break up, but the way he said it—” My chest cramped, and I had to push through the rest. “It was a decision he hadn’t made yet.”
Kai turned toward me. “Is that what he said, or is that what your brain heard after running it through old damage?”
“He wouldn’t look at me. Sat as far away as he could and kept asking for more time. He said it over and over.” My voice broke, and I had to take a deep breath. “All I could hear was, ‘You pushed too hard. Asked for too much.’”
Kai took another sip of soda. I did the same, mostly to have something to do.
“Did you?” he asked. “Push for too much?”
“Fuck.” I blinked hard, but the tears came anyway. “I asked him to talk to me, tell me what he wanted. Tell me if there was a future when we weren’t always living in different cities. Apparently, that was too much.”