Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Victor relaxed in his chair at Pat’s Pub, took another sip of beer, and let the conversation continue around him without hopping in.
It had been nearly a month.
Twenty-eight days, if Victor was being exact about it.
Twenty-eight of the happiest days of his whole damn life.
It was safe to say, the time he’d spent with Belle had been almost perfect.
But only almost.
Because hovering in the background was the knowledge that they’d left way too fucking much unsaid.
Twenty-eight days of not talking about what was going on between them.
Twenty-eight days of pretending they didn’t need to.
Victor leaned his forearms on the wooden table, staring down into the near-black swirl of his Guinness like it might offer answers. It didn’t.
Still, he watched the foam slowly dissolve, waiting for the fucking universe to give him some goddamn sign about what he should do next.
“Jesus, you look like someone just told you hockey got canceled,” Tank said, bumping his shoulder against Victor’s.
He growled. “Don’t joke about that. It could happen. You remember the fucking pandemic.”
Tank snorted unapologetically. “Then stop looking like your dog just died.”
“I don’t have a dog,” Victor snapped.
“Exactly my point.”
That got a huff out of Preston, who was sitting on his other side.
He clapped Victor on the back hard enough to jostle his beer.
Preston, who’d just retired at the end of the last season, had been all-in on joining them for drinks following their workout.
He’d admitted he was having some separation anxiety after so many years on the team, so he made them all promise to invite him to social outings. As if they’d exclude him.
“Seriously, man. What’s with the funeral face?” he asked.
“We just wrapped up a solid practice. Preseason’s looking good. You should be riding high,” Tank added.
Blake and Rook were chatting amongst themselves across the table, drinking their beers, trash talking. The situation was a familiar one. Their group enjoying one of their post-practice dinners, followed by drinks. Fun, familiar, easy.
Victor wished he felt any of those things. Instead, his chest was tight. Like something was pressing against it from the inside, demanding to be let out.
Now, however, thanks to Preston’s question, everyone’s attention had turned to him, with Tank’s comment further piquing their interest.
Fucking awesome. Just what he needed. An audience to see just how fucked up he was.
Typically, Victor was tight with these guys, and to be honest, there weren’t many secrets between them.
In addition to being teammates, they were his best friends, like brothers to him.
However, he hadn’t told any of them about the change in status between him and Belle.
The two of them had agreed to keep things on the down-low, but that had only been for Vivian and Pip’s benefit, neither of them wanting to confuse his little niece, or for her to say anything to his sister that might distract from her work.
But they hadn’t explicitly said they couldn’t talk to their friends.
Regardless, Victor had kept mum, stupidly afraid that by talking about what was going on, he’d somehow jinx the budding relationship.
Or…well…whatever this thing between them was.
They hadn’t exactly given it a label.
Instead, they’d jumped from the nanny/uncle dynamic to temporary roommates/co-parents to lovers. All without a single fucking word about what that meant.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Viv’s coming back the end of next week,” he said, hoping that would distract them from his grumpy-ass face.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Blake asked. “I mean, I know you’ve missed her.”
“And with her home, you get your quiet house back,” Rook added, obviously recalling Victor bitching about Belle and Pip coming to stay for the summer.
Jesus. June Victor had been a fucking idiot, because it occurred to him that for his entire life, he’d merely been living in a house.
Belle and Pip had turned it into a home, and he wasn’t looking forward to returning to his quiet, solitary, lonely lifestyle.
“I do miss Viv. And I’m glad she’s coming home,” Victor said.
“Then what’s the problem?” Tank leaned his elbow on the table, angling his body toward him.
Victor hesitated.
This—this right here—was exactly what he and Belle had been avoiding. The talking. The naming of things. Because once they named something, it became real. And dangerous. And something he could lose.
He exhaled slowly. “I’ve…been seeing someone.”
The fact that four heads snapped toward him in almost-perfect unison would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking sad. Victor didn’t date. Ever. And his friends knew it.
Preston blinked. “You’re what now?”
“Seeing someone,” he barked, a little more defensively than he intended.
Rook whistled low. “Well, shit. That’s new.”
“No kidding,” Blake added. “Last I checked, you were still swearing off anything that remotely resembled a relationship. Thanks to Amelia, the bitch.”
“Who’s Amelia?” Rook asked curiously.
“Victor’s ex,” Preston answered for him. Blake and Preston had been his teammates the longest, so they’d been around for the Amelia breakup. “She decided she couldn’t take the life of a hockey player’s girlfriend. Didn’t appreciate all the times we’re out on the road.”
Rook scowled. “Doesn’t sound like she was worth keeping.”
Blake tapped his beer mug against Rook’s. “Amen, brother.”
“Gotta admit, I’m glad to hear about the new woman. I was starting to worry you’d never put yourself back out there. Who is she?” Preston asked almost hopefully. He’d always been one of the nicest guys on the team, which was somewhat ironic, given the man’s take-no-prisoners style of play.
Victor stared at the table again. The wood grain blurred slightly as Belle’s face filled his mind—her joyful laugh, the way her eyes warmed when she looked at Pip, the way they darkened with arousal when she looked at him.
“Belle.”
His response was met with utter silence.
Tank recovered first. “Belle? As in…Pip’s Belle?”
Victor winced at the descriptor. “Yeah.”
“Pip’s nanny?” Rook asked, looking less shocked than the other guys and way more amused. Rook was the newest member of their group, so he was still learning their history. “The one you referred to as Mary Fucking Poppins?”
Victor scowled, pissed off by the nickname, even if he did come up with it. “She’s not Mary Poppins. She’s just—” Victor stopped short, blowing out a frustrated breath.
“She’s just…” Blake prompted, waving his hand, inviting Victor to say more.
He didn’t want to, so he just shrugged.
“So how long has Belle been just…” Tank mimicked Victor’s shrug in true smart-ass fashion.
“Almost a month.”
Tank’s smirk faded into instant annoyance. “A month?! And you’re just now telling us?”
“I don’t have to tell you fucking gossipy, nosy cunts everything about my life,” Victor snapped.
It spoke to the level of friendship he and his teammates had established that not a single one of them took offense at his insult. Probably because they knew he didn’t really mean it.
“You don’t have to tell us everything,” Tank replied. “But you should want to.”
Victor shook his head, though the edge of his lips quirked at that. “Didn’t think it was anyone’s business.”
“Bullshit,” Blake said. “You fucking told us when you switched brands of protein powder.”
“And when you lost one of your fake teeth in Pip’s birthday bouncy castle, trying to do a somersault,” Preston added.
“And when you accidentally sprayed yourself with Viv’s pepper spray, trying to get that big-ass spider out of her pantry.”
“It was dark in that stupid closet, and I thought the stuff would kill the thing. Didn’t know the fucking nozzle was pointed the wrong way,” Victor grumbled, suddenly regretting sharing so much with this bunch of yahoos.
“Regardless,” Tank said. “You told us all that. And this is way bigger.”
Victor raked his fingers through his hair. “Belle and I didn’t want to make it a thing.”
Blake laughed. “Jesus, Vic. Sleeping with Pip’s nanny? Trust me when I say, that’s a thing.”
Victor shot his buddy a dirty look but didn’t reply because what the hell could he say. As far as he was concerned, he and Belle weren’t just A thing.
They were THE thing.
“So did it fall apart or something? Because you know,” Tank waved his hand toward Victor, “that dead dog face has me concerned.”
“It didn’t fall apart. We just haven’t really talked about it.”
“Talked about what?” Rook asked, confused.
“Anything.” Victor let out a humorless laugh. “What we are. What it means. The future. Any of it. We sort of fell into bed and…kept going.”
Preston leaned back, looking incredulous. “You’ve been together a month, and you haven’t had that conversation?”
“We’ve just sort of been taking it day by day.” Even as Victor spoke the words, he could hear how stupid they were.
Tank lifted one shoulder casually. “You realize that’s basically how all relationships start.”
Victor ignored him. “It’s been good. Really good. Better than good.” He paused, then added, “Too good.”
Blake’s expression softened a fraction. “And that scares you.”
Victor didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Rook rubbed his jaw, his brows furrowed. “I don’t get it. If it’s good, then what’s the issue?”
Victor hesitated, then found himself spilling all the worries that had been piling up since he’d pulled Belle into his living room and took her on the couch.
“She’s more than just Pip’s nanny. She’s family.
If things go south, it’s not just me and Belle getting hurt. We’d take Pip and Viv down with us.”
A couple heads nodded, and he could tell his friends got it.
“Plus, preseason is starting up. I’m gonna be gone more. Travel, games, late nights. You know how it is.”