Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JONAH
Feeling along the edge of the cardboard, I used my elbow to press the flaps down and secured the tape over the top. “This one is the final box of office stuff.”
Amedeo took it, and I tried not to wince at the sound of the Sharpie scratching out what was probably the word “office,” but fuck, it was an obnoxious sound. “Done. I also just got a text from Hugo. He and Bodie are here with the truck.”
Most of my dad’s stuff was going into storage. It had been three weeks since the court appointment. Three weeks since getting the call from Shaded Meadows Memory Care telling me they had a spot for my dad.
Three weeks since getting him settled into his new room with a new medication to start and round-the-clock staffing care to make sure that if and when he wandered, it wouldn’t be off the grounds and into another kebab shop.
Not that I regretted when he’d done that the first time, considering it had gotten me a boyfriend and two very good friends out of the deal.
I shivered at the thought of the word “boyfriend.” At the memory of Alexio’s warm hands and thick cock and the kisses he couldn’t stop giving me now that it was allowed.
“You’re smiling,” Amedeo pointed out.
I pressed my fingers over my lips and sighed.
“Young love is disgusting.”
My brows shot up. “Are you serious? My friend. My buddy. My dude…”
“I know, I know.” I could hear the grin in his voice.
“You two are still disgusting, and I fucking love that for you.” I settled back on my hands and tipped my head up toward the ceiling. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was coming in through the blinds, warm on my cheeks, which was nice.
This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to spend my day. I would have rather been at the arena for Alexio’s final game of the season before playoffs started, but needs must…I don’t know, keep me from hiding in the locker room and blowing my hot boyfriend after his game once everyone was gone.
Or whatever that saying was.
“We get to meet him tonight, right?” Amedeo asked softly.
Tucker, Ford, and Killian knew Alexio well, and Boden had met him the one night he’d helped out at my dad’s, but that was long before Alexio and I had become a thing.
I hadn’t wanted to do a big coming-out moment because the idea of it during the season was way too fucking stressful, so I let Ford unleash the secret he’d been holding for a few weeks now, and all I did was deal with the barrage of text messages saying I either won or cost them money on their bets.
The only people I told myself were Micah and Caleb.
Micah seemed annoyed that it was Alexio Zeki. Caleb wasn’t a sports guy. He still called hockey the flat-ball, knife-shoe sport, so Alexio’s name meant nothing to him. But they both seemed happy for me.
Or something like it.
They weren’t angry or judgmental, so that was enough.
Then life continued to happen. I had doctor appointments with my dad, a shitload of paperwork to fill out, and now it was officially moving day.
We’d be stopping by the storage unit, then Shady Meadows, and then I was going to meet Alexio at the arena and ride home with him because fucking hell, I needed to be in his arms.
“We’re doing dinner at my place, and then all of you have to immediately get the fuck out so we can have sex on all the furniture.”
“Gross.”
I snorted and rolled up to my knees, then stood and cracked my back. “Like you and Tuck don’t do the same thing when you haven’t seen each other for a while.”
Tucker had given up playing sled hockey, but he was now my coach, which meant the roadies were longer, and his stress levels were higher. We had already secured our wildcard spot in the playoffs, and Amedeo said he was finally starting to adjust to the schedule.
And to Tucker’s bad moods.
Amedeo squeezed my arm gently, and then I heard him lift the box and shuffle out of the room.
I wasn’t very careful when I followed him.
The apartment had come furnished, but the only thing I needed to worry about now was the bed and a few end tables on my journey from the bedroom to the living room.
The place felt weird now. Sort of empty and hollow. I wasn’t going to miss this place. Not really. It was sad and terrible, and while the bitter part of me might have thought it was a little bit of karma biting my dad in the ass, I didn’t really believe that.
He wouldn’t remember it anyway. Not really. And not for long when he did. It had been a week since he’d had any idea who I was, and I didn’t bother trying to remind him when I went to see him. He called me at least seven different names, and it was easier to go with it.
The only person he ever asked for was my mom, and all we could do was tell him she was on her way. But it did make me hate her a little more each time I heard the lost note in his voice, wondering why he was there alone.
I doubted I’d ever see her again, but if I did, I wouldn’t be able to hold back.
Letting out a sharp breath, I turned the corner, then froze when my phone began to buzz in my pocket.
“Alexio calling…”
I picked up. “Babe. Aren’t you about to hit the ice?” I actually had no idea what time it was, but I knew his game had to start soon.
“I have a few minutes. I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s been a weird day.”
I frowned, leaning against the wall. God, I wished I were there. “Yeah? Can I help?”
“Just this,” he told me softly. “This is all I need.” He was quiet for a second, then cleared his throat and said, “Can I sleep over tonight?”
I scoffed. “If you don’t sleep over and fuck my ass in every room of my apartment, we are breaking up.”
He burst into laughter. “My slutty little goalie.”
“Only for you,” I told him with a grin. “Seriously though, are you okay?”
His laughter died down and ended on a sigh. “Yeah. I think I’m just…I don’t know…starting to realize that my seasons are winding down. I don’t know if I’m going to stick around to watch Boston get better.”
“Babe…”
“No. It’s not me being self-deprecating or anything like that.
I’m just feeling old, you know? Half the fucking veterans on this team are still in their twenties.
And it’s a little weird that I can literally hear my joints popping when I get out of bed in the morning.
That’s not supposed to happen for another ten years. ”
Bowing my head, I felt an ache to pull him into my arms. I understood, of course. I had just turned thirty, but my body felt decades older sometimes. I wasn’t ready to retire yet. That was so far off, but dear god, sometimes it felt like the years were racing by.
“Well, after everyone leaves tonight, I’ll make you feel very young and spry.”
“I don’t even want to know what you mean by that,” he murmured, “but I’m looking forward to you showing me.”
“I’m gonna buy spicy lube.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Oh, I’m on my way right now. I’m going to traumatize some poor clerk by asking him to find it for me.”
“Christ,” he said, then muttered curses in Greek which I loved hearing even if I couldn’t understand them.
There was something about reducing him down to his other languages that I was kind of obsessed with.
I was pretty sure he did it on purpose after he noticed how much I liked it—and how it got my dick hard.
But I wasn’t complaining. He sighed out another heavy breath. “I miss you.”
“I know, but I’m just gonna get my dad settled, and then I’ll be by to catch the end of your game.”
“Alright. I l—uh.” He stopped, but I heard the words. Neither one of us felt ready to say them, even if they lived in our chests. I think we were both afraid it was too soon—that if we rushed, it was all going to come crashing down.
But it was getting harder and harder to hold back.
“Me too,” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” I pressed the phone to my ear hard and fought the urge to say fuck it to the entire afternoon and rush down there to kiss the shit out of him before the game. “I need to run, but I’ll be there in a few hours. Do good hockey, babe.”
“I will.”
His words sounded a lot like a lie. They were playing Denver at home tonight, and it was going to be a fucking massacre. But I didn’t think Alexio much cared. His season was over, and in a few weeks, mine would be too.
And when that happened—when I could finally take a breather—I was going to let him know how just how fucking lucky I felt to be with him. And how much I didn’t want to live without this fragile thing we were building.
“Jonah. Shit, shit, shit.”
I froze at the sheer panic in Tucker’s voice. We were on our way out to the lobby of Shady Meadows when he grabbed my arm, tugging me to a halt.
“Ohhh, shit.”
“Dude, what?” I demanded. I was going to strangle him if he didn’t say literally anything else.
“Alexio.”
My entire body went cold. “What about him?”
“Hold on, I’m…oh Jesus. He took a bad check. He was stretchered off the ice. Vanya just texted me. He’s currently still unconscious.”
For a moment, I thought it was a joke. Because it had to be, right?
It had to be a joke. In this game, no matter what kind of hockey any of us played, we all took bad checks.
And wild shit did happen. Players had gotten throats slit by wayward skates, and there had been sticks to the face and blows to the head, knees destroyed.
But not Alexio. That didn’t happen to Alexio.
“What are you saying?”
Tucker was quiet for so long I almost reached over and shook him. Then he took my hand. God, it was never a good sign when he took my hand. “I’m texting Amedeo to get the car. We’ll head over to St. Mary’s now.”
My head began to swim, and it took me a second to realize I was dizzy. I nearly tripped over my own feet trying to take a step, and Tucker caught me.
“Hey, bud. Hey, come on. Breathe, okay?”
“Mm.” Breathing? What even was that? I sucked in air, and it felt like it was full of tiny knives, piercing my lungs. “I need to call someone. I need—”