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"Victor," he says, shaking his head slightly, "you've always sold yourself short. From day one. Why is that?" His tone is gentle, but there's an edge to it – a seriousness that he doesn't often show.
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. "Old habits die hard, I guess."
"Right..." He taps his finger on the table, catching a drop of condensation as it races down the side of his glass. "I approached you because you had this... intensity about you. Even then. You were focused, determined. Like you had something to prove, and I admired that. Still do."
"Is that why you invited me out tonight?" Roman asks suddenly, tilting his head, a playfulness returning to his voice. "Because you're second-guessing yourself again?"
"No," I admit, feeling a weight in my chest. "Just been feeling out of sorts since getting back from Worcester. Needed a friend, not a therapy session."
"Ah, Worcester," he muses, nodding as if putting pieces together in his head. "Well, you've got a friend here. Always."
"Thanks," I say, meaning it more than I expected to.
I take a slow sip of my cocktail, the warmth unfurling in my chest. Roman's green eyes are fixed onme, waiting for me to fill the silence that has stretched between us.
"I know you had your reasons for not getting on the ice with us back then," he says. He leans back in his chair. "But now? You're out there with the kids. How did you manage that?"
I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of the memory settle inside me. "At first, it was just PR for the firm. Had to play the part, you know?" The image of those eager, young faces flashes through my mind, and my heart does a strange little flip. "Then... seeing the kids so happy, something shifted in me."
"Victor Stone, the big softy." Roman's teasing breaks through the heaviness, and I can't help but crack a reluctant grin.
"Shut up," I mumble, but there's no bite to it.
I glance at my phone on the table. The little text message notification is still at the top of the screen. I can't help but think about Avery. I haven't replied to her yet, and guilt gnaws at me for leaving her hanging. She deserves better, even if I'm not sure what I can offer right now.
"Something on your mind?" Roman eyes me, sharp as ever.
"Just... stuff." I avoid his gaze, feeling suddenly exposed. Avery's text burns a hole in my heart, but I'm not ready to dive into that mess—not yet.
I swipe my phone off the table and put itin my pocket, trying to shove Avery's message and my guilt deeper into my pocket, but the weight of Roman's gaze is like a physical thing. He's watching me with that look he gets, the one where he sees right through the walls I put up.
"Okay, spill it," he says, leaning forward, his elbows on the sleek, modern table. "You've got that broody cloud over your head again. Same as the day I met you."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I quit the coaching gig," I admit, avoiding his eyes as I toy with the stem of my cocktail glass. "And it didn't go over well with one of the moms."
Roman cocks an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about pissing off a hockey mom?"
"Since she turned out to be leading the charge against the development project," I grumble, finally meeting his look. There's more to it, but I'm not ready to dive into those murky waters.
"Ah." His green eyes narrow, and I can tell he's putting the pieces together. "Is that all she is? Just a concerned citizen?"
I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. "That's all she should be."
He laughs, a light, easy sound that grates on my nerves just a bit. "This is why I keep it casual. Relationships, women—they mess with your head."
My nod is stiff. "Yeah, this whole thing's gotme twisted up."
"Victor, man, you're many things, but a cold-hearted bastard isn't one of them, even if that's what you try and make the world see." Roman's voice is sincere now, earnest in a way that's rare for him. "So here's some advice, free of charge—do what feels right."
I frown. "I don't know what 'right' feels like anymore."
"Come on," he chides gently. "You're not being honest with yourself. You know exactly what you want. Just need some time to sort through the noise."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Avery
The steamfrom my hot chocolate curls up into the chilly evening air, mingling with the tension that hangs heavy over the bleachers. Beside me, Emily's knee bounces nervously as we watch our kids' hockey team struggle to keep up. Samantha and Jessica couldn't make it tonight, so it's just us two mothers, huddled in shared disappointment.