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"You could be part of our group. You want in?" he asks, his eyes holding nothing but sincerity in their depths.
I eye him, puzzled. "Why would you want me in your group?"
Roman gives a half-hearted shrug, green eyes steady on mine. "We're all outcasts here, Victor. Just figured you might fit in."
It stings, hearing it so plain, but there's truth twisted up in his words. I remember the family, their promises, the cold finality when they changed their minds. "Was supposed to be adopted once," I confess, voice barely above the wind. "They... they left me behind."
"Adults," Sebastian cuts in, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Can't trust 'em. Never do what they say. That's why we stick together."
Lawrence nods, fiery hair catching the dim sunlight. "Got each other's backs, no matter what."
Ilook at them, these boys with histories like mine, patched together by broken pieces, and something like hope flickers within me. Maybe I'm not as alone as I thought.
"Alright," I say, the word scraping out like it's been dragged over gravel. "I'm in." I can't help but tack on a stiff, "Thanks," because what else do you say when handed something that looks like friendship?
Roman chuckles and leans back on his palms, the snow making crackling sounds beneath us. "Man, drop the formality. You're with us now."
He stands up suddenly and offers me a hand, all grins and boundless energy. "Come on, let's skate."
I shake my head, pushing his hand away gently. "Nah, go ahead. I'm done with skating. For good."
"Suit yourself," Roman says and there's no pity in his voice, just acceptance.
I watch as Lawrence strips off the skates with deft fingers and then calls to some kid hovering at the edge of the pond. "Hey! You!" He waves the skates in the air. The kid, a scrawny thing all elbows and knees, scuttles over and takes them, his face lighting up like someone flipped a switch.
"Wait, why didn't you—" I start, staring at Lawrence who should be carving up the ice, not standing here with a loser like me on the sideline.
"Victor," he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder, "it's no big deal. You're part of the crew now. We stick together, remember?"
His hazel eyes are serious, and it hits me hard. These guys, they mean it. All for one, one for all, or however that saying goes.
"Thanks," I mumble again, this time meaning it. It's strange, feeling like maybe I've got something worth holding onto. Maybe even worth thawing for.
Chapter Thirty-One
Victor
"So,what do you think of this place?" Roman asks, leaning back in his chair. I take in the restaurant. It's like a museum of modern eccentricities – exposed brick walls clash with abstract art, and hanging plants dangle beside sleek, digital menus. The table is a spread of fusion dishes that look more like art than food; miniature tacos next to a deconstructed Caesar salad, all style and flair.
"It's eclectic," I say honestly, skewering a piece of tempura avocado with my fork. The crunch is satisfying, unexpected.
His eyes light up, and he grins, showing off those pearly whites that could charm the most cynicalcritic. "I'll take that as a compliment. This investment's gonna be solid gold, I can feel it."
"Got plans for any new ventures?" I prod, curious despite myself, sipping on some kind of cocktail that glows neon blue.
"Actually, yes." Roman leans forward, elbows on the table, his blonde hair catching the ambient lighting. "I'm thinking of expanding our franchises back to our hometown."
I can't help but chuckle at that. "Do we even have a hometown, Roman?"
"Sure we do," he insists, waving his hand dismissively. "The place where we all first met. That's close enough to a hometown for guys like us, isn't it?"
"Guess you've got a point," I concede, raising my glass to him. "To hometowns—real or just barely so."
The clink of our glasses pulls me away from the neon-infused ambiance to the present moment. Roman's looking at me with that all-too-familiar, easy grin, but my mind's wandering down a lane lined with memories – our rough-and-tumble childhoods, makeshift families in the system, and the first time we met.
"Hey, Roman," I start, voice barely above the hum of conversation around us. "Why'd you come up to me back then? You had Sebastian and Lawrence already. It's not like you guys needed another stray."
He leans back, his chair scraping softly against thepolished concrete floor, and huffs a laugh. The green of his eyes seems to darken with some unreadable emotion.