Chapter Twelve #5
The weight of his arm across her shoulders. The heat trapped inside his coat. The solid line of his body along hers. The faint scent of soap, cold air and something clean she associated with the locker room before games.
Tessa’s steps faltered.
Matvei adjusted his pace.
“Better?” he asked.
His voice came from directly above her.
She should move away.
The gesture crossed no obvious line. It was cold. He had offered his coat, and she refused it. Teammates stood this close during national anthems and celebrations. Friends walked through winter cities with arms around each other all the time.
They were not friends.
That was the problem.
“Yes,” Tessa said.
The answer emerged quieter than she intended.
Matvei’s hand rested against the top of her arm. He did not pull her closer, but he did not release her either.
They continued walking.
The wind remained sharp, though less of it reached her now. His body blocked the worst of it.
Tessa kept her hands inside her pockets because she had no idea where else to put them. One rested awkwardly between their coats.
Neither spoke for nearly a block.
The silence was not uncomfortable.
That made it worse.
Or better.
She no longer knew.
“You’re warm,” she said eventually.
Matvei looked down at her. “Yes.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Sound like one.”
“It was an observation.”
“You observe for job.”
“Exactly.”
“You are working now?”
Tessa glanced up.
His face was close enough that she could see snow caught along the edge of his hat.
“No,” she said.
Matvei’s gaze held hers for half a second too long.
“Good,” he said.
Tessa looked ahead.
Her pulse had begun behaving as though they were doing something more dangerous than walking.
The closeness should have made conversation harder.
Instead, it removed some of the formality that had survived every other exchange between them.
Matvei asked about her path to the NHL beat. Not the version the Tribune published, but how she had spent years covering junior hockey and editing other reporters’ work before Frank retired.
“You want his job?” he asked.
“I wanted the job. I didn’t want Frank to leave.”
“He likes you.”
“You barely talked to him.”
“He covered team long time.”
“That does not mean you liked him.”
Matvei shrugged. “He did not make me stupid.”
Tessa understood the significance of the compliment.
“He recommended me,” she said. “I didn’t know that until Viktor mentioned it.”
“You think you did not earn?”
The question found the insecurity too easily.
“I earned it.”
“But?”
Tessa looked toward the lights ahead. “But there were people with more experience. People who had covered professional teams already.”
“You cover hockey.”
“Junior hockey.”
“Still hockey.”
“The NHL is different.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for proving my point.”
“You are good.”
The words stopped her more effectively than the cold.
Matvei continued walking, his arm still around her.
Tessa looked up. “You’ve read enough to decide that?”
“Yes.”
“You hated my first question.”
“It was bad.”
“It was not.”
“You ask same as everyone.”
“I didn’t know you yet.”
Matvei’s expression shifted.
“Now you know?”
The question carried more than hockey.
Tessa felt it.
“Some,” she said.
He nodded slowly.
“Some.”
The repetition sounded like agreement rather than disappointment.
They walked another block.
“What do you do when you’re not at the rink?” Tessa asked.
“Nothing.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I eat. Sleep.”
“You’ve built your entire life around basic survival.”
“Yes.”
“No hobbies?”
“I cook.”
“What?”
“Food.”
She looked up at him. “Thank you for clarifying.”
Matvei ignored the sarcasm. “Russian food. Some other.”
“Are you good?”
“Yes.”
“That answer came quickly.”
“I am good.”
“What else?”
“Read. Walk. Movies.”
“What kind of movies?”
“Not romantic comedy.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I know.”
“Have you ever watched one?”
“Yes.”
Tessa stopped trying to hide her surprise.
“Which one?”
“I do not know name.”
“That is convenient.”
“Woman writes magazine.”
“There are several of those.”
“She lies to man.”
“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?”
“Maybe.”
Tessa stared at him.
“What?”
“That is the movie that made me want to become a journalist.”
Matvei frowned. “She is bad journalist.”
“I know that now.”
“She writes fake story.”
“It was about the general atmosphere.”
“She loses bet?”
“Yes.”
“And still gets man.”
“That is how movies work.”
“Bad movie.”
“You watched all of it.”
“I was on plane.”
“You remember the entire plot.”
“It was stupid.”
Tessa smiled into her scarf.
The fact that Matvei Belov had watched the movie she blamed for her career choice felt too specific to be useful and too intimate to ignore.
His arm tightened briefly as they stepped around a patch of ice.
“Careful.”
“I saw it.”
“You almost fall.”
“I did not.”
“You walk like baby deer.”
“That is insulting.”
“It is accurate.”
Tessa attempted to step away in protest.
The cold reached her immediately.
Matvei pulled her back.
“Stay.”
The single word settled low in her chest.
She stayed.
They were nearing the final stretch toward the hotels when Tessa’s fingers began hurting.
The gloves had been sufficient earlier in the day. After nearly half an hour outside, the cold had worked through them. She curled her fingers into her palms inside the pockets, trying to restore feeling.
Matvei noticed.
“Hands?”
“They’re fine.”
He released her shoulders.
The loss of his warmth was immediate.
Before Tessa could regret it, he stopped beneath a streetlight and held out one hand.
“Give.”
“What?”
“Hands.”
She looked toward the hotels visible several blocks ahead.
“We’re almost there.”
“Tessa.”
It was the first time he had said her name outside an interview.
The sound of it in his voice did something she was not prepared to examine.
She pulled her hands from the pockets.
Matvei frowned at the thin gloves.
“These are bad too.”
“They’re lined.”
“With what? Paper?”
He took both of her hands between his.
His gloves were thicker, but the pressure alone brought warmth. He rubbed her fingers through the fabric, large hands enclosing hers completely.
Tessa stood still.
The street around them remained empty. Snow moved softly through the light above them. The city had become so quiet that she could hear the faint rush of traffic several streets away.
Matvei pulled one glove from her right hand.
Cold air touched her skin.
“What are you doing?”
“You need warm.”
He removed the other before she could stop him, then enclosed both of her bare hands between his gloved palms.
His eyes lowered toward them.
Tessa watched his face.
Matvei lifted their joined hands closer to his mouth and blew warm breath into the space between them.
Heat touched her fingers.
The intimacy of it arrived all at once.
Not because of the physical contact alone. Because of the care. The concentration in his expression. The way he treated her discomfort as something requiring immediate correction rather than teasing her for being unprepared.