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When they break apart, Gavin’s attention comes back to me. “Seriously, though. Do you want us to wait for you?”

“No. Go home. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

“Okay,” Gavin says, but he doesn’t look convinced. He steps over and bumps my fist. “Go get some rest. Ride with us to practice tomorrow.”

“In the El Camino?” I actually feel my face light up. Gavin bought a restored 1970 El Camino for Connor over the summer and had it shipped to Buffalo as a surprise for him. I have yet to ride in it, but it looks cool as hell with the two of them in it.

“It’ll be a little cramped, but sure,” Gavin says.

“Can I drive?” I ask with a hopeful grin.

“No,” Gavin says, completely stone-faced.

“Okay.” I shrug. And for the first time in hours, I feel a little better.

Nikolai

This is so stupid. Why am I doing this? I ask myself as I pace in front of the exit to the Blizzards locker room.

I should be getting on the team bus. It’s probably still here. If I hurry, I can catch it. I mean, I don’t even know if Ander is still in there. I saw Connor and Gavin leave a few minutes ago when I was down the hall, pacing in front of the entrance to the visitors’ locker room. Thankfully, they didn’t see me. But why would they? I could see from where I was that the two of them, similar to Ryan and Brandon, were lost in their own little world.

I wonder what that’s like. From an outsider’s perspective, it looks pretty nice. Wonderful, even. I’ve never had that. Not even with Sofia. Looking back, she always had one foot out the door, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t care. She’s beautiful. Smart. Ruthless in business. Any man other than me would be thrilled to have her. But as hard as I tried, the two of us together never felt like we fit.

“Is that you, Nikolai?”

I’m wrapped in a woman’s arms before it registers to me that the voice I heard was Momma B’s. I’d hug her back, but she’s trapped my arms at my sides.

“What are you still doing here?” she asks, squeezing harder.

Over her head, I lock eyes with Ander’s dad.

She releases me from her hug but slides her hands down my arms and grabs my hands. “Have you seen Ander?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I was just…” Just what? Waiting for him? Checking on him? Making sure he didn’t hate me?

“Come on, dear,” Big Mike, Ander’s dad says. “You know Ander isn’t going to be in any mood to go to dinner tonight.”

“No,” she says. “I suppose he won’t.”

They’re right. He’s gonna want to be alone in his misery. I should leave here.

I release my hands from her grip and look down the hall towards the exit. “I should go,” I say. “Team bus to catch.” But as I turn to go, I slam right into a solid Ander Bouchard-shaped wall.

“We really need to stop bumping into each other like this,” he says. There’s an attempt at humor in his voice, but it sounds hollow.

“Sorry.” I wince. “I did not see you there.”

“Clearly,” he says, then turns his attention to his parents. He steps away from me and stoops down to accept a hug from his mother.

So that’s how it’s done. Huh. I’ll have to remember that for next time. Assuming, of course, I don’t get ambushed as usual.

“What are you all doing here?” Ander asks. “I figured you would have left by now.”

“You know Brandon and Ryan,” Big Mike says. “They wanted to go back to the hotel.” He jabs me with his elbow. “Apparently someone made a bet with Brandon…” His voice trails off before he finishes his statement. Probably realizing that rubbing in the deal for dinner I made with one brother about scoring on the other wasn’t going to make Ander feel any better right now.

“A bet?” Ander says to me. “What kind of bet?”

“Was stupid,” I say. “Does not matter.”