7. Caia
7
CAIA
I’m on the couch, a book perched open-faced on my knees when the apartment door opens. My head perks up.
I hear Alexie shuffling inside. He’s home earlier than expected. In fact, he’s not supposed to be here at all. I was planning a night of candles and a good time with my nightstand buddy.
“What happened?” I call out.
He drops his hockey bag by the front closet. “The planes are grounded. We’ll have to reschedule the game against the Fargo Force.”
A familiar incident tugs at my thoughts. “I remember back in 2016 they had to do that between the Detroit Power and New York Landers.”
“Weren’t you like ten then?” he calls back while I hear boots being kicked off.
“Alexie, you know that I’m 26. I’m not a baby.”
“Right.” He glosses over my retort. “I’ll leave you to your reading and I’ll go talk to one of the guys down the?—”
“No. You’ll stay.” I cut him off. He has been like this for two weeks. Cold, more than could be brushed off as “Russian customs” or newly wed jitters.
I’m not blind. He has purposefully been trying to avoid me. I’ve tried to be patient with him, give him space until he feels comfortable to open up to me. But the distance is wearing on me.
I fear that I’ve made a mistake and if we have to come clean, he’s gone forever. I want to make this work, but I can’t be the only one.
“You know that when we have the immigration interview, we have to know each other inside and out. If they figure out that we’re not really in love, they’ll send you away.” Just saying that I don’t love him stabs me in my heart. I used to think that Alexie was hot and sexy but now I’m starting to believe that there’s a genuinely wonderful man underneath his tough, chiseled exterior. Even if he is trying to repress it.
I know that I’ve been infatuated with him for a while… a long while . But even when he’s acting like he doesn’t like me, I can see him staring at me while I’m cooking and his eyes travel my body. He’s definitely an ass man.
Or when I walk from the bathroom across the hall in a towel, he pretends not to look, but I see him move uncomfortably at the kitchen island. And last week, he brought home dinner and flowers, just to surprise me. Little things that are giving me a tiny ray of hope.
He plops down on the couch. “Ask me anything,” he challenges.
“How many brothers and sisters?”
He answers almost immediately. “Seven. Three younger brothers, two younger sisters.”
I consider his response for a moment, brows furrowing. It doesn’t add up. “That’s only five.”
His voice softens and instantly pain settles into those gorgeous green eyes. “Two passed as infants, a brother and a sister.”
I suddenly feel self-conscious and like there’s so much I want to know about him. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s tough being the oldest and remembering everything that happens and how it affected your family.”
I bite my lip. “I’m sure it is.”
Fidgeting with the loose threads of his Frostwolves hoodie sweatshirt sleeves, he asks, “And you? Siblings?”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and then bring them back to him. “Well, you’ve met Harper, she’s the middle child, quintessential peacekeeper. And then there’s Leesa, she’s the oldest, nine years older than me and she’s the bossy one of the family.”
He chuckles. “Really, bossier than you?”
“Hey, I’m take charge and focused. She’s a lawyer and she’s cutthroat. She has one child, my niece, Jasmine, we call her Jazzy. Leesa’s been kind of sad since her divorce. They’ll be at Sunday Dinner as she’s back in town for Thanksgiving.”
Alexie’s demeanor switches. “About that. I… I don’t think I should go to the dinner. We can say that I have a cold.”
My father would know that’s a lie. He keeps his ear to the medical bay wall. If one player goes down with something viral… they all go down and they all act like they’re dying. His words not mine.
My breath hitches and my heart hurts. “Why wouldn’t you go?”
“Caia, getting attached to people and then having to say goodbye to them. It feels… unnecessary.”
My heart sinks. I thought maybe this could work, but these mixed signals are defeating my hopes.
“Let’s wait and see how you feel then,” I declare. “What’s your favorite color?” I pose the question half-heartedly, my pulse having plummeted through the floor.
“Platinum,” he wiggles his wedding ring. I realize he’s never taken it off. Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but that’s going to mean something.
I’m going to keep the hope, but I need to come up with a plan… I’m down a man and I need a power play.