Chapter 20 #2
I love him for that, for how instant and unshakable his support of Lex is.
“Is there anything green?” Lyla asks, clearly only acting exasperated.
“There are jalapenos on the nachos, Lyla,” Ruko points out.
I hide my snort well, Lex does not.
“I should actually eat something healthy too, since I’m not training.” Lex looks around at the buffet of typical arena foods—nachos, hot dogs, burgers, and fries.
Ruko waves that off. “It’ll do you good to fatten up for the playoffs.”
Lex smiles indulgently at his dad, and this time I’m not lost, because since my deep dive into all things hockey I understand what no one is saying but everyone is thinking—it’s very unlikely that the Demons will make it to the playoffs.
They’re ranked in the lower end of their division, and are definitely not in contention for a wild card at the moment. If Lex does come back to play at the start of February, he’d have to put on a legendary, record-breaking two months to get them there . . .
But he shouldn’t have that on his shoulders, so I’ll never say it. The other guys on the team are also professional hockey players, they should be able to pull their weight.
Though clearly they need some different type of motivation or . . . training, maybe.
If the universe is on their side, then a few teams in their division could start sucking majorly too . . . that would help for sure.
“When is Ally flying in again?” Lex asks Ruko. He told us earlier she’s coming to appear on a late night show on Friday.
“Thursday, mid-morning.” And damn if Ruko doesn’t smile like a schoolboy with a crush. I never thought I’d want to coo at him, but thankfully Lyla does it for me—I don’t know how any of us would react to me doing it.
“And she’s staying for the weekend, right? So, you too?”
As far as I know, Ruko doesn’t have a specific date for flying back to LA, but with the way Lex is biting his bottom lip nervously, his eyes jumping from his dad to the wall then back again, it’s obvious he wants him to stay longer.
“Yeah.” Ruko claps him on the shoulder. “I’m staying until someone kicks me out, and she has to fly back Saturday to get back to set.”
“Okay, awesome, so—”
Lex stops when a knock sounds behind us and we all turn in unison to find a sheepish Tucker.
“Hey,” he says and waves awkwardly.
“Tucker, so nice to see you,” Lyla says and walks right over to hug him. Then we all follow her lead and pointedly ignore how hard Tucker tries not to fanboy over Ruko.
That more than anything seems to put Lex at ease.
Tuck is just another hockey-loving guy, and yeah, they haven’t really seen each other since they were sixteen, but they did play together for two years.
“Wanna head down?” he asks Lex after he’s done telling Ruko what a big fan he is. I’m actually pretty sure Tuck has met Ruko multiple times before today, but maybe he’s trying to be extra nice now that Lex is playing for the Demons?
“Sure, can Eli come too?”
Tuck shrugs, casual and bordering on careless. “Of course.”
It’s a solid image, one I suspect is absolute bullshit.
I stay quiet while he leads us to a private elevator then down wide, concrete-walled hallways, and I admit—if only to myself—that I’m nervous when we stop in front of two big red doors. It’s obviously the locker room.
Tucker pushes them open like he’s done it a million times, and more questions start piling up about his role in the organization, but there’s no time for any of that.
In the second between Tucker walking in and Lex following him my fingers twitch with the impulse to reach for Lex’s hand, but I curl them into a fist instead and look straight ahead, forcing my feet to move.
I don’t register the faces, I can’t, because all my focus is on acting like I’m really looking at the men who cheer for Lex when Tuck introduces hi—
What?
There’s a rushing sound in my ears as it dawns on me that this . . . whole thing might not be something I need to disassociate from.
They’re cheering for him.
Some throw plastic bottles in the air, others wave towels over their heads, but they’re all smiling as they look at Lex.
He is . . . well, processing. Just like me.
But the edges of his lips are turned up just a little as his cheeks flush with that ridiculously adorable blush. It seriously doesn’t belong on a six-foot-five mountain of a man, but he pulls it off.
Somehow.
I didn’t realize Tuck had wandered off until he’s walking back with a big smile and a Demons sweater bunched up in his hand. He offers it to Lex, and I can tell he’s warring with himself over it, but he takes it, holds it up to see the horned head on the chest, and the sixty-six on the shoulders.
I wonder briefly why he doesn’t turn it around, why he doesn’t spare the last name on the back even a second, but as his smile grows and his shoulders drop almost imperceptibly, I realize it probably matters less to him.
When he lowers it and looks around, there’s a calmness in his eyes. “Can’t wait to get out on the ice with you,” he tells the room at large.
The answering cheers are somehow louder than before.
“Come on.” Tucker gestures at the fabric with a nod. “Try it on and let me take some pictures.”
Tuck puts him in front of the locker that already has “Jankowski 66” over it, and then two guys join him. They’re the alternate and the captain, which I can tell from the letters patched onto their jerseys, and then the whole team joins in, forcing me and Tucker to step back a few feet.
No one pays me any mind, but the few glances I get are friendly, and that’s enough for now. Especially because nothing is as interesting as watching Lex.
He has the same smile on for the whole team photo, but I still see the moment the reality of it all hits him.
He doesn’t move, his face doesn’t even shift, but his eyes start to shine with so much emotion that I feel my own dampen just from watching it.
I know the last thing he wants is to let any of them see him cry—which is what’s going to happen in about a minute—so I nudge Tucker after he’s taken the fifth shot, and try to convey with only my eyes that we need to be done with this.
He understands.
“All right, finish getting ready!”
“We’ll show off for you,” I hear one guy say, and when I turn to look, I see it’s the goalie and he’s clapping Lex on the shoulder. It seems like a familiar pat, at least more familiar than the ones he gets from the rest of the guys as he makes his way toward me and then out of the room.
Tucker mumbles something about posting and tells us he’ll see us Saturday, and I’m left to decide if I should distract Lex or find some secluded room where he can let go.
He’s looking around, eyes jumping from one spot to the next nervously as he bites down hard on his bottom lip, so I go with my instinct and grab his hand, pulling him toward the first door to the right. It’s marked as a PT room, and when I open it I sigh at how blessedly empty it is.
“Eli, what—”
“Just sit, Lex.” I pull on his hand, and nudge him gently toward what I guess is an exam table. “We’ve got time before the game starts, and it’s only me here.”
I can tell he’s thinking about protesting, about wanting to go back up to the suite and put on a show of being the good sport who only feels happiness for being here.
I know it’s not true. I know this is more complicated than what someone can process in two weeks, so I’ll happily be the one to give him this space.
“Just sit and breathe,” I urge him, stroking his arms from shoulder to wrist. It’s easier when he does finally sit, and not only because he mimics my breathing.
He inhales deeply, then a long exhale brushes my forehead as his eyes slowly drift closed.
“There we go. You’re okay. We’re okay, and whatever you’re feeling, I’m here, Lex. ”
His hands come up to my waist as he keeps breathing, as his shoulders drop lower and lower.
A flood of love for him fills me.
I get to be the person who’s next to him in the locker room when he’s being celebrated, and I’ll be next to him later when they probably show him and our family on the jumbotron and the fans will more than likely go insane for him, but I’m also the one who sees this side of him.
The one so few get the privilege of.
And every day we get closer to that moment when we’ll be able to be like this whenever and wherever.
I’ll make sure it’s not too long now, even if the spotlight on him gets brighter—and that’s apparent more than ever when, just like I thought, they show him with his brand-new Demons jersey and he waves at the crowd. His smile is so easy, no one would suspect what went on before the game.
And just like I thought, the fans almost blow the roof of Barclay Arena off because yeah, Alexei motherfucking Jankowski is in the house.
Lex’s words after the game is that a three–two win for the Demons is respectable, and no one disagrees.
I don’t offer my input, first because I also agree, but also because I want to learn more, from him and from my own research, so I can actually have an intelligent conversation about hockey with him.
Soon.
For now we all go home and get some rest after such an emotional day.
Wednesday is quieter, with me staying home except for a few hours when I have to go back to the office, but mostly I work from home, and Lex works out in the basement gym Dad installed for him all those years ago.
After Ally gets in on Thursday, we all pack ourselves into three cars—because with bodyguards it’s bound to get too crowded otherwise—and head to Irvington to check out the house Lex fell in love with.
We all insisted he had to at least walk through it before putting in an offer, even though he was adamant they’d had certified inspections done and it was livable, but we won that argument.
It’s a two-story colonial-style brick home that has ivy running up the sides, a perfectly manicured front lawn, and a long driveway, so it’s away from the main road. Surrounded by big trees and with a back yard made for big gatherings, it’s inviting.