Chapter 12
NICO
Jo and I have hung out every day for the last four days, even if it was only for a coffee and a chance for me to learn her order.
She has two, depending on the season: cinnamon latte with whipped cream for the fall and winter or an iced matcha latte for the spring and summer.
So, naturally, I added a cinnamon latte with extra whipped cream to her daily breakfast DoorDash order before I left for morning skate.
Because Jo has never been spoiled in her life, and I intend to rectify that.
I know she receives it because she texts me Thank you, Nico. Like she has every morning. I always send her back some emoji like the angel or kiss or eggplant with water, to which she responds with the side-eye emoji.
As if she doesn’t love it.
My sassy little emo girl.
I smile to myself then toss my cell phone into my locker before I finish lacing up for morning skate.
It’s our second game of the season. We easily beat Colorado last night, but tonight, we’re up against my former team from Florida.
I wouldn’t say there is any bad blood there—at least between the team and me; I can’t speak for Jared Craft—but I wasn’t sad to leave.
A lot of hot tempers and douchey attitudes. Their leading D-man, Sean Kane, is one of the dirtiest players in the league. I didn’t mind when I was on his team, but now I can’t stand the motherfucker. Actually, I couldn’t stand him before either, but I put up with him.
Now, I’m looking forward to kicking his ass.
The morning of a game looks different for every player, but it’s always the same for Davey.
Coordination drills in front of the net.
Most of the guys usually take the time to work up a sweat.
Coach Elliot pulls some players to go over certain things, last-minute adjustments.
Sheffy hypes up each of us like a personal cheerleader.
He orders me to shit talk as much as I want, and I’m looking forward to it. I have enough info on the Seadevils players to harass them the whole game. That’s my role. Be a pain in their fucking asses.
Afterward, I shower and grab something to eat from the cafeteria, my bed and Gus awaiting my pregame nap, but I am headed off in the hallway by my minder.
“Do you have a concussion?” Malcolm asks without preamble, and I’m so thrown off by his question that sounds like an accusation, I’m not sure.
“Maybe?”
He huffs. “Because that’s the only reason I can think of that you’d do this.”
I look around for one of the team’s staff members so they can tell me what’s going on, but the trainers ignore me, and Coach’s office door is closed. That means stay the fuck out.
“You’re gonna need to be more specific about what this is.”
He pinches his nose between his thumb and index finger, sighing. When he finally opens his eyes to me, he’s world-weary. And I kinda feel bad for the guy.
Chasing after all of us fuckups. But I truly don’t know what I did wrong this time.
“I’m lost here.”
“You are engaged to Josephine,” he seethes, and I smile.
“Oh yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“Is this the concussion? Do you have CTE? Do you need an MRI?”
“No, and that’s nothing to joke about, man. I—”
“Shut up,” he says, raising his finger to my chest. “Barely a month ago, I sat in that conference room because you can’t keep your dick in your pants, and then last week, I received an odd email about you being engaged. I thought it was a joke until I saw on your Instagram that it’s true. Engaged!”
His legitimate anger sets me back on my heels.
Jo and I haven’t exactly been shouting it from the rooftops, but ever since we “came out,” I haven’t been hiding it either.
I posted one photo on my social media yesterday, of Jo’s hand on top of a table, my ring on her finger clear.
I didn’t put a caption, but I didn’t think I needed to. A picture speaks a thousand words.
“Do you have a problem with that?” I ask, defensive of my relationship.
I mean…my fake relationship.
Malcolm’s eyes narrow, and I notice that, for once, his usually cool exterior is shot. His tie askew and some kind of spot on his coat. A spill or something.
I finally managed to break Malcolm King.
I’m not sure whether to be honored or scared.
“Yes, I have a problem with it,” he says quietly, scornfully. “That woman doesn’t deserve whatever it is you are planning on doing with her—”
“Hey, whoa.” I hold my hands up. “I’m not some kind of movie villain, okay? I’m not planning on doing anything to her.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“We’re getting married. I don’t understand what’s so hard to understand or why you’re acting like this.”
He crosses his arms. “You are not marrying that girl.”
I huff, offended. “Yes, I am. And if you’re going to act like this, we won’t be sending you an invitation.”
“You, Nicholas Tremblay the 3rd, are having a wedding?” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Don’t full-name me.”
We stand opposite each other, both of us with our arms crossed, neither one giving in. If he thinks he’s going to talk to me like this, he can—
“Fine. You don’t want to tell me what’s going on, I’ll go talk to Fitzgerald right now. Have fun in your next city.”
I snort. “You’re bluffing.”
He pivots on his heel, his shiny black dress shoe squeaking on the floor, and he makes it all the way to the end of the hall before I give in.
Because I don’t think a man in a three-piece suit bluffs.
“All right, all right!” I jog to catch up to him. “I’ll tell you.”
He stops, turning with an expectant eyebrow raise, gesturing for me to go on.
So I do. I tell him the whole thing, from what happened in the hospital with Jo’s family to right now.
I tell him about how I’m doing this to protect my spot on the team, but also to protect her.
I tell him that it’s only for the season, long enough to get the front office off my jock and Jo’s family off her back, but I do not tell him about how I’ve been remembering her legs wrapped around my waist when I masturbate.
Or how she moaned my name when she came, and it makes me half hard just thinking about it.
How she took pictures of Gus and me and edited them so perfectly, I immediately ordered enough copies to send out to the entire team at Christmas.
How I started watching videos on knitting so I can learn.
How when I read my latest fated mate book, I thought maybe it was fate I hit her with that puck. That we were meant to crash into each other’s lives.
“This is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, which is really saying something.” Malcolm sighs, exhausted. I am exhausting him. “Because I’ve heard a lot of dumb ideas.”
“You’re so mean.”
“This will implode,” he goes on, like I didn’t say anything. “And when it does, Josephine will be collateral damage.”
“I would never hurt her.”
“Maybe not on purpose, but by trying to save her, you’re only going to make this worse.”
His warning sets my skin ablaze, angry on my own behalf, but mostly for Jo.
“Do you really have to be such an asshole about this? Aren’t you supposed to have my back?
Make me look all shiny and pure? I’m doing the work for you!
” I throw out my arm, as if I could motion to Josephine in her tiny apartment, probably putting on her makeup, drying her hair in front of the mirror with her Post-it. “I’m trying to fix the problem.”
“By pretending to be engaged? Do you even hear yourself?”
“Barely. You’ve been shouting at me so much, it’s difficult to even think around you.”
“I was hired to do the thinking for you, but clearly, you know what’s best for your career, so I don’t even know why I’m here.
You want to ruin your life with this idiotic plan?
Go right ahead. I don’t have the time to stand here, convincing you otherwise, but do not call me when this all goes to hell. ”
He takes off toward the exit once again, leaving me with one parting shot, “Because it will go to hell, Nico. Just don’t take her down there with you.”
I’m so irritated, I can’t do anything except glare at his back.
I’m not going to take Jo down. I’m not taking her anywhere except on a few dates and hopefully my bed.
With a grunt, I turn, intent on heading to the parking deck but, instead, run right into Sheffy coming out of the training room.
His shoulder has been bothering him lately, and he starts rambling about whatever exercises they’re having him do, but I guess I’m not sufficiently interested because he stops. “What’s going on with you, man?”
“What?”
He motions to my face. “You pissed off or something?”
I’m not normally this guy, the aggrieved one, but all that garbage Malcolm said? It was bullshit. And it’s one thing I can’t let go.
I can’t act like it doesn’t bother me.
That the possibility of hurting Jo doesn’t make me irate.
Sheffy lays his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “You all right?”
“No.” I give in to an exasperated sigh and tip my head, so he’ll follow me to the corner, where we can speak more privately.
Alex is the closest thing I have to a brother, and I don’t have any qualms about relaying my argument with Malcolm, assuming my best friend will agree with me, but he doesn’t.
He merely blinks at me.
As if there is more.
I widen my eyes. “So?”
“So…?”
“So, he’s totally off base, right? To come at me like that. Makes me want to tell Jameson to shove this whole babysitting idea up his ass. I don’t need Malcolm. I don’t even need Jameson.”
Sheffy shakes his head like I’m a child having a tantrum. “You need your agent. Don’t even pretend you can go rogue. He’s saved your ass from being traded.”
I almost—almost—say it’s not worth it, not if I’m stuck with an asshole in a really nice suit but a terrible fucking attitude. “I don’t want to deal with King anymore.”
“Why? Because he told you the truth, and it hurt your feelings?”
Yes.
No.
I don’t know.