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"That's awesome, Avery!" Eric grins, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "I can't wait to see it. Bet it'll look killer in our new place."
I beam at his enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. This is what support feels like, I think. This is what I've been missing.
"Actually," Eric says, his voice taking on a mischievous tone. "I've got something to show you too."
He takes his right hand off the wheel, fumbling with his sleeve. "Check it out."
I lean closer, curious. As he pushes up his sleeve, Igasp. There, inked on his forearm, is a heart with our names intertwined.
"Oh my god," I breathe, tracing the lines with my fingertip. "Eric, it's beautiful."
He grins, clearly pleased with my reaction. "You like it?"
"I love it," I say, my voice thick with emotion.
Eric leans over, capturing my lips in a deep kiss. The car swerves slightly, and we break apart, laughing as he quickly rights it.
"Whoops," he chuckles, turning on some music. "Ready for our new adventure?"
As we drive away from Boston, leaving behind everything I've known, I nod. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Chapter Seventeen
Victor
The buzzof my phone jerks me awake, a continuous vibration against the nightstand. Groggy and disoriented, I fumble for the damn thing, half-convinced one of my properties is going up in flames. But nope, it's just the guys. Figures. They're relentless when they've got ammo to rib me with, and yesterday's coaching gig is like a machine gun's worth.
"Morning, Sunshine," reads the latest text that pops up on my phone, dripping with sarcasm so thick you could choke on it. I rub the sleep from my eyes, knowing full well this chat's gonna be one big roast at my expense.
Before diving into the masochism that'll be that conversation, I decide to check my emails. Maybe something there will salvage my morning. Updates, updates,blah, blah—stuff that can wait. Then, a glimmer of positivity: Jenna's email. "Knew you had it in you, Victor!" she writes, and her words are like a shot of espresso straight to my heart. The woman's got faith in me, bless her.
Next up, a note from Tim. He's all business, calculating how my stint with the kids might charm the board into swinging my way. And then, an interview request from a local journalist. That's worth a second look. I flag it and take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next.
"Alright, let's see what you got," I mutter and tap back into the group chat. My thumb hovers over the screen, ready to scroll through the endless jabs about yesterday's unexpected dive into nostalgia on the ice.
I swipe through the digital barrage from Roman, Sebastian, and Lawrence. Their initial texts are as predictable as a rerun of an old sitcom.
Roman
Saw you on TV, Coach Stone! Paid for the special broadcast and everything.
Lawrence
Never pegged you for a bleeding heart.
Sebastian
Local hero, huh?
Roman
Got to say, Vic, you were rocking the dad vibes hard.
Lawrence
What would you even know about dads, Rome?
Roman