Page 162

“It’s the truth. Ask Vera. I already had this conversation with her. And fuck you for thinking that I’d stick around for her money. In case you haven’t realized, I have my own fucking money.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

Snoh’s cell phone vibrated across the table. He checked it and cursed.

“I gotta go. My coach is looking for me. But before I do, I need you to tell me something.”

“What?”

“You claim you love her. What do you love about her?” he asked, fitting his beanie on his head.

“She’s mean as hell,” I said instantly.

He snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I believe you, and I plan on doing everything possible not to end up on her bad side. I love that she challenges me and calls me out on my bullshit. She’s so fucking smart, but she’s not a snob about it. I can sit there and listen to her talk about fermentation and yeast strains all day. Not because I know what the hell she’s talking about, but because she gets so animated—her eyes shine, she talks faster, and her hands move while she speaks like she’s conducting an orchestra. She’s passionate, kind, and thoughtful, and she believes the little things matter. She makes me feel like a person first and everything else is just background noise.”

Snoh tilted his head contemplatively. “What do you mean by that last part?”

I chuckled. “She couldn’t give a damn that I play hockey professionally. To her, that’s probably the least exciting thing about me. If I told most women that I wanted to retire at the end of my contract, they’d probably try to talk me out of it. But not Vera. And I love that she trusts me enough to be soft with me.”

I looked down at my hands.

“I don’t know everything about Vera. Apparently, I didn’t know a pretty fucking significant part.” I looked at him. “But I know I love all the parts she’s shown me.”

Snoh held my gaze for a moment. “What are you fucking, Shakespeare or something?”

“Not Shakespeare; Sweet Hart.”

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh God.”

He stood from the table and threw a few bills down. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around more than I’d like.”

I nodded. “I hope so.”

He started to leave when I stopped him. “One sec. Vera told me the origin of Obsydian Trip’s name, but she probably bent the truth.”

Snoh smirked. “Probably. Vera is the queen of plausible deniability. Obsydian Trip came from Verydian and Black triplets.”

Briefly, I closed my eyes and sighed. “It was right there in my fucking face.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad,” Snoh taunted.

“I have one more question.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m curious. What instrument do you play?”

Snoh’s eyes narrowed into slants that reminded me of Vera.

“The flute, motherfucker,” he snapped, yanking on his gloves.

I blinked repeatedly.

Is he just fucking with me?

I could feel the heat climb up my neck as I held back a laugh. It wasn’t funny because he played the flute, but it certainly was unexpected.