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Frustrated because, once again, I'm being left out of his plans. Frustrated because it's an act that's so sweet and well-intentioned, it's hard to be mad at him.
But most of all, frustrated because I can't stop thinking about him. About his kindness, his thoughtfulness, and the way he always puts others before himself.
Groaning out loud, I start typing to Nonna.
“I'm glad you're getting the help you need. I’ll thank Jacob when I see him next. Take care, Nonna. Love you.”
Nonna sends back, “Love you too, dear. Enjoy the game. And give Jacob my thanks as well!”
The second the text hits my phone, the buzzer announcing the start of the playoff game sounds off.
We need this win to make the team look good. To make Jacob look good. And maybe to distract myself from these confusing feelings I might be having for the one man who has always—and will always be —off-limits.
Chapter 9
Jacob
The roar of the crowd still echoes in my ears as the final horn blows.
Blades win. 3-1.
Skating off the ice, pride swells inside my chest. Scoring a goal and leading the team to victory over the Rangers was exactly what I needed.
The locker room is a chaos of high-fives and laughter, the guys celebrating like we've just won the cup, not just a playoff game.
For me, every win is another piece of evidence, another argument to show George Corso that I deserve to be here. That my love life, dalliances, or lack thereof, won't eclipse my career, no matter what the rumors say.
Every time I doubt myself, I remember why I'm here—why I'm fighting to stay in the game I love.
I scan the faces around the rink, looking for the one person whose opinion somehow seems to matter the most these days.
Gabi.
It’s ridiculous, really, but I can’t help it. Not that I'd admit that to anyone, least of all myself.
Just as I catch a glimpse of her in the stands, Gio, her older brother and my best friend, charges at me, grabbing me by the neck in a bear hug.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Gio shouts, practically squeezing the life out of me with his huge arms.
I pat his back, smiling despite myself. It’s hard not to get swept up in his enthusiasm.
"Only took three tries to get past their goalie," I laugh, trying to shake off the goofy grin I know is plastered on my face. But the look Gio gives me isn’t just about the win.
He’s proud.
And that, coming from my best friend, means more than he might ever know.
As we shuffle into the locker room, the guys are still riding high on the adrenaline rush of our win. Gio's beside me, smiling from ear to ear, but I can feel the gears in his head turning. It doesn't take long before he starts his interrogation, albeit quietly.
"So," he begins, like he’s talking about the weather, "how's it going with Gabi?"
I know where this is heading and quickly dive into my locker, pretending to be engrossed in a routine search for something that doesn't even exist. "It's going," I reply nonchalantly, hoping that'll be enough to keep him at bay.
But Gio is persistent, and subtlety isn't exactly his strong suit.
"Going well, I hope?" he presses, his tone light but his eyes serious.
I pull out a random pair of socks, giving them way too much attention. "Yeah, well enough. You know how it is."
