17

gio

“ R emind me to change the door code.”

I lean back against Nova’s kitchen counter, arms crossed, glaring daggers at her as she goes through the steps of making herself a cappuccino —from the machine I bought her, no less—as if she hadn’t fucked up my morning.

The ultimate cock block.

The faint sound of her music plays from a speaker somewhere, but it does nothing to cut the tension I’m radiating in her direction.

“In my defense, I wanted to go for a run.” She slurps from the coffee mug. “And ran out of electrolytes to put in my water bottle so I was coming to steal yours.

I stare at Nova, dumbfounded as she continues babbling.

“Then I heard noises and got worried—like, you could have been throwing up or whatever.”

Those noises were me fucking the woman I’m dating .

I clamp my lips shut because if there’s one thing I do not do, it’s discuss my sex life with my twin. Unlike Nova, I have boundaries I do not cross.

“When is the last time you heard someone throwing up? What world do you live in? ”

My sister laughs, leaning against the counter. “All I’m saying is I’m sorry! I’ll never come unannounced ever again—I swear.”

Her apology feels more like an afterthought than anything else, but that’s my sister for you.

She pokes at the foam on top of her coffee.

"Let’s stop talking about you, it’s annoying," Nova announces, throwing up her free hand in mock surrender. "Let’s talk about me and my sex life. Oh wait. That won’t take long, I don’t have one."

That piques my interest and I jump at the chance to change the subject. "What do you mean?"

She sighs dramatically, setting the mug down on the counter with a loud clink. "I mean, my love life is a barren wasteland. An endless desert. A desolate void of despair and loneliness."

"Okay, tone it down, Shakespeare," I say, but a pang of guilt tugs at me for finally finding someone I click with on a personal level when Nova struggles to meet someone. "Why? What happened to that guy you were seeing? Uh, Todd, right?"

"Bart," she corrects, expression souring. She sticks out her tongue as she says, "He ghosted me."

Ghosted her?

What the fuck kind of dumbass dumps the sister of a professional hockey player? It comes with perks and Nova is a badass. What reason could he have to stop responding?

"Could it be because his name is Bart ?" I ask, frowning. Nova doesn’t usually seem fazed when a relationship doesn’t work out, but the way her shoulders sag tells me she may have liked this one more than the others. "The dude sounded like an idiot."

I’m trying to be supportive, already hating this guy.

She shrugs. "I mean, I thought we were having fun. Good conversation, decent chemistry. And then—poof. Gone. Like he never existed." She snaps her fingers for emphasis.

I tilt my head, studying her. "Guys are such assholes. What a pussy."

She sets down her mug and crosses her arms .

"Honestly, it’s fine. I wasn’t that into him. It’s just…I don’t know. Getting ghosted sucks, you know? Seriously, why can’t people just be honest and say, ‘Hey, I’m not feeling this’ instead of disappearing like cowards?"

I nod slowly, watching as she picks at a loose thread on her sweatshirt. "Yeah, I get that. It’s not about Bart, it’s the principle."

Bart.

What a stupid name.

Can you imagine banging a dude and having to moan that name?

I almost laugh, but hide it in the hoodie of my sweatshirt.

"The principle.” She nods. “Exactly. I’m over it, you know? Dating. Talking to someone for a day and being unmatched on a dating app. Or having a guy I don’t know ask to see my boobs. It’s exhausting. Everyone is either playing games or looking for the next best thing. I hate it.”

Shit.

That does suck.

I’ve never had those issues; women slide into my DMs and hit me up after games on a regular basis. But those women are typically puck bunnies or fans, and the last time I got involved with one of those, it ended so poorly the entire break-up was headline news.

So yeahhh…

“Maybe I’m better off alone. At least then I don’t have to worry about idiots like Bart."

I stand straighter, not loving her tone.

Or the sadness in her voice.

"You’re not better off alone, Nova," I say, my tone more serious now. "You’ll find someone. Someone who calls you back and actually deserves you."

She looks up at me, her expression softening for a moment before she smirks. "Aww, look at you, being all supportive and brotherly. Who are you, and what have you done with my real twin? "

“Funny.”

She sighs. “I thought it would make me happy setting you up with Austin, but all it’s done is make me jealous.” Her laugh holds no humor.

"You’re jealous?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light, though I can tell this isn’t entirely a joke to her.

She rolls her eyes. "Not of Austin, you idiot. I’m jealous of...I don’t know—the fact that I’m single and you’re dating. I’ve gotten used to barging into your place and having you all to myself. I am happy for you, I swear. It’s just weird seeing you act your age. And it’s improved your game.”

It has improved my game.

We’ve won the last two games we played—because Austin was at both.

“Any dude that ghosts you or plays mind games. Or makes you question the relationship is not your guy, Nova. He’s not. He’s just a lesson and sometimes we learn that the hard way."

"Yeah, yeah—I know," she waves me off. "I’m not feeling this way ‘cause of Bart. Maybe I’m just not meant to do this whole…” She waves a hand in the air. “Relationship thing."

I narrow my eyes on her. "That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and you’ve said some really stupid shit."

Her snort is a weak attempt to cover the vulnerability. "Gee, thanks."

I take a step closer, forcing her to look at me.

"I’m serious , Nova. You deserve someone who gets you and likes all the dumb shit you do and your weird little quirks. Stop wasting energy on dudes who waste your time.” I run a frustrated hand through my hair, feeling like a life coach. “Stop settling for losers."

“They’re not losers.”

Is she defending these lazy assholes who can’t be bothered to text her back?

How hard is it ?

I scoff. “Any guy who doesn’t at least text you to say he’s not interested is a fucking loser.” Or lazy at minimum.

Her lips twitch, but the sadness in her eyes doesn’t fade. "You’re annoyingly good at motivational speeches, you know that? Maybe dating someone like Austin is rubbing off on you."

I shrug, letting a smirk creep onto my face. "What can I say? I’m thriving or whatever."

My sister watches me for several seconds, tapping her long nails against the ceramic handle on her mug. Opens her mouth, then closes it.

“It’s easy for you to stand there and tell me not to settle for losers when you literally have women trying to get naked in your hotel rooms.”

She is not wrong.

That happens on occasion.

“I don’t think you can take offense to me telling you to stop settling and maybe raise your standards a little."

Nova wrinkles her nose. "Oh—'cause my standards are so low?

Newsflash: it’s not like I go searching for these guys. They find me. Like stray cats, but with worse manners and no social skills."

"Then stop feeding them.”

She blinks at me for a moment absorbing my wisdom, then a genuine laugh bursts out of her.

It’s the first time she’s really laughed all morning, and it’s enough to make me grin.

“Can I ask you a question?” Nova asks once she’s done giggling. “Why haven’t you ever set me up with one of your teammates on like…a date?”

I raise an eyebrow. Never not once has my sister mentioned wanting to be set up with one of the guys on my team.

Never.

Not that I would do it .

"Uh. You mean the guys who think Taco Bell is an appropriate pre-game meal and that socks are optional in public?"

No offense to Taco Bell, but you get what I’m saying. Most dudes our age aren’t exactly taking women to fancy restaurants and sweeping them off their feet. They take them for coffee.

Or: to the bar then back to their place for a quick fuck.

She smirks, crossing her arms. "But at least one of them has to be decent, right? Like, statistically?"

"Statistically, sure," I say, rubbing my chin to make it seem as if I’m seriously mulling the idea over. "But then you realize they’re overgrown toddlers with too much testosterone. Jank once missed practice because he “lost track of time” watching videos of cats riding Roombas. Ivan can’t remember to pay his phone bill, so he uses everyone else’s to order UberEats."

I frown at the idea of her dating either of them.

My sister tilts her head. “Knock it off. Be serious, I’ve met a bunch of them, they’re not terrible. Maybe you’re overprotective and it wouldn’t kill you to do me the same favor I did you.” She hesitates. “Things are going well with Austin, maybe you could…you know. Hook me up.”

Hook her up?

Over my dead body.

“What about the new assistant coach?”

“Tyler?”

Nova rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “Yes, Tyler. What is he, like—thirty-five?”

I rear back, hating the idea. “How the hell would I know how old Tyler is? The answer is no. He’s a fuck boy.”

My sister is undeterred. “How do you know he’s a fuck boy?”

“He looks like one.”

Duh.

Nova snorts, crossing her arms. “He looks like one? That’s your entire basis for judgment? You can’t just slap a label on someone because they have good hair and a decent jawline. ”

She thinks he has a decent jawline?

The man has a beard. “He has a weak upper lip.”

“Fine,” she says with a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Forget Tyler. Forget your teammates. Forget everything. I’ll just join a nunnery or something.”

“Good call,” I say, nodding. “You’d look great in a habit.”

“You are such a jackass.” Nova’s laughter finally fades as she wipes at her eyes, still grinning. “Seriously, though. What’s your problem with setting me up? You’re acting like I’m asking you to marry me off to one of your idiot teammates.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the counter. “It’s not that. I just know these guys, Nova. They’re my friends, sure, but I’ve seen what they’re like off the field. Half of them don’t even know how to do their own laundry.”

“So?” she says, arching an eyebrow. “That’s why I wouldn’t date half of them. I just need you to point me to the one with a working brain cell.”

“You’re assuming one of them has a working brain cell.” I realize I’m losing my patience and take a deep breath. Let it out. “Look. I’m not saying you can’t handle them, but why would you want to? Do you know how many times I’ve had to explain to Jank that you can’t put metal in the microwave? Twice, Nova. Twice.”

“He is not from America!” my sister shouts in his defense. “He’s from Ukraine, of course he doesn’t know you can’t put metal in the microwave!”

“I’m trying to protect you. You deserve someone who isn’t going to make you question all your life choices every time he opens his mouth and a loose tooth falls out.”

Nova shakes her head, laughing. “You’re such a pain in the ass, but thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

Nova tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe Austin knows some single guys.”

“No,” I say flatly, already regretting where this is going .

She frowns. “Why not?”

“ Because . The guys Austin knows are college students and too young for you.” I am delighted to enlighten her. “She’s a professor. You want me to set you up with one of her students ?”

“Pause.” Nova blinks, jaw dropping. “Wait—what? Back up. She’s a professor? You’re dating a professor?”

My chest swells with pride.

“Yeah,” I say, smirking at her stunned expression. “What did you think her job was when you played matchmaker?”

“I wasn’t thinking about jobs at all!” Nova admits, throwing her hands up. “You didn’t exactly say, ‘Hey, I’m dating a genius.’”

“She’s not a genius,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I mean, maybe she is—I’m still getting to know her. Hard to tell under that sassy mouth.”

“Wait. Back up. What does she teach? I’m literally so stunned by this news,” Nova presses, still trying to process. “English? Rocket science? Marketing?”

“Sociology.”

My sisters rears back. “I have no idea what that is.”

Yeah, same.

“Me either—I had to google it,” I say with a shrug. Sociology is: in a nutshell, the study of people and how they interact with each other. Why people do the things they do in groups, how societies form, what influences them. “She’s smart, but normal. Unlike the guys you keep chasing.”

Instead of letting them chase you.

Nova stares at me for a moment before shaking her head. “Unreal. You’re dating a college professor, and I can’t even get a guy who knows how to use a dishwasher.”

“I have no idea how to use my dishwasher, either.”

My sister scoffs. “That’s because you have a housekeeper.”

As I stand in my sister's apartment my mind begins to wander; now that we’re speaking about Austin, I can’t stop my brain from going back to my bedroom .

This morning and last night—and all the times in between.

And then another thought enters my brain and before I can stop myself, the question pops out:

“Can I ask you a question—promise you’re not going to freak out?”

“Of course I’m not going to freak out,” she says earnestly, expression serious. “Just ask.”

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the weight of the words before I even say them, already wanting to snatch them back: “ Do you believe in love at first sight?”

For a moment Nova stares, blinking like she didn’t hear me right.

Then she gasps, putting a hand to her lips. “OH MY GOD, are you in love with Austin?”

“NO!” I blurt, a little too loudly. I mean…maybe? “No, I’m just asking if you believe in it. Hypothetically.”

Nova takes a few moments to respond.

“I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight—I’ve never seen it.” She leans her hip against her counter, shifting her weight as she fiddles with her mug. “I think people can feel a spark . But love? I don’t believe it’s instant, no. I believe love grows. It takes time—don’t you agree?”

She’s watching me expectantly.

“Yeah. I agree.” I nod, pretending like her words don’t land a little heavier than they should, because I also don’t agree.

My voice sounds hollow even to me, and I know Nova hears it too. I glance away, pretending my phone buzzed and I need to check messages, anything to avoid the intensity of her stare.

“Gio,” Nova says, her voice cutting through the silence. “You’re such a terrible liar. Just tell me what’s going on.”

That’s certainly true enough.

The truth is that the truth is somewhere between: I’ve never felt this way before and I have no idea what the hell I’m doing—or how to begin communicating how I feel to a woman I only just started dating .

What if she thinks I’m out of my fucking mind?

What if she feels like I’m needy and decides to peace out?

“What I can’t believe is that we’re having this conversation,” my sister echoes what’s in my mind, doing that creepy twin thing we used to do when we were younger.

Our mom loved it.

It was one of her favorite things about us.

Mom loved having twins—even dressed us alike, though Nova is a girl and I’m a boy—we coordinated in matching sets until we were ten and I’d get humiliated by it, once throwing a temper tantrum so horrible on an Easter Sunday that spelled the end of the outfits.

What I wouldn’t give to go back to those days …

Whatever you want, Mom.

Yes, Mom.

I love you, Mom…

I miss you .

Not to get sappy, but she would have the answers for me. And she would have liked Austin—had this way of making everything feel less complicated, even when it wasn’t.

And boy do I need that now.

“What’s with the look on your face?” Nova quietly asks.

I shrug, glancing at her. “Thinking about what Mom would tell us about relationships if she was here.”

Surely she’d impart wisdom.

My sister goes still a few seconds before her shoulders go back and her spine straightens. “She’d tell you to stop overthinking everything and enjoy dating. She’d tell you life is too short to sit around waiting for the perfect moment.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it impossible to respond. Nova is right.

That’s exactly what Mom would’ve said.

“Maybe we should both take her advice.” I sniff, feeling tears welling in my eyes.

“Do not make me cry right now, you dick.” Nova’s laugh is quiet as she regards me. “Mom would think my love life was a mess, because it is.”

“Yes, but you were her favorite.”

She rolls her eyes. “Only because I was a girl and she loved buying me outfits and doing girly things with me. Dad did all the hockey shit and I think she probably felt left out sometimes.”

I nod my head.

That’s true, too.

“She probably did,” I say, my voice soft.

“But you know she loved watching you play. She never missed a game.” Nova snorts. “She spent half the time asking Dad what was happening. Like, what’s a power play? Or, why does Gio keep sitting in the penalty box? I think she secretly hated hockey.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “She hated watching me get the crap kicked out of me.”

I wasn’t always a goalie.

When I started the sport I was shuffled around from position to position and began in the goal box my senior year of high school. Until that point, I’d gotten into tons of fights, many of which were started by me .

“She did hate watching you fight,” Nova agrees, a smile on her lips. “She hated seeing either of us get hurt—but she was so proud of how good you are. She bragged about you all the time.”

I raise an eyebrow. “She bragged about you more .”

“Well, obviously . I was her little sidekick,” Nova recalls fondly. “Straight A’s, her little gymnast. You were a little shit growing up.”

“I was not,” I protest though we both know it’s a damn lie. “Okay I was. But you were annoying as hell.”

Nova laughs, shaking her head. “We were her little shits and she loved us. Even when we went at each other’s throats.”

I nod, my chest tight. Nose stinging. “I miss them. ”

“Me too,” she says, just above a whisper, her eyes shining a little too brightly. “Every damn day.”

We sit there for a moment, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable. It’s one of those rare moments where words aren’t necessary—where we both know exactly what the other is feeling.

After a while, Nova nudges me with her foot. “You know she’d kick our asses if she saw us sitting around moping.”

“We're not moping. We’re bonding over the fact that you busted in on me fucking my girlfriend.”

The word slips out before I can stop it.

And I don’t hate the sound of it.

My sister's eyes go wide and her mouth makes the surprised shape of an O.

“Pause,” she says, drawing out each word. “ Girlfriend ? Did you just say girlfriend?”

Her eyes are wide, and the grin splitting her face is borderline obnoxious. I groan, dragging a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling about ten years younger—like when she used to tease me about crushes in middle school.

“It just slipped out, okay?” I mutter, avoiding her gaze.

Nova’s smirk doesn’t fade. If anything, it grows fifty sizes wider.

“It is a big deal. My brother, the emotionally constipated hockey player, just admitted he has a girlfriend. I feel like this is a milestone—our baby boy is growing up.”

“Can we not make this a big deal?”

“I’m not making it a big deal,” she says, setting her mug on the counter behind her and holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m appreciating the moment. They don’t happen often.”

“Yeah, well—appreciate it silently.”

Nova nods. Pretends to zip her lip.

Sighs .

“So what’s next with you and Austin?” She wants to know. “Another date?”

“I think so. She wants me to watch a movie at her place this weekend, but…”

Nova nods, her brows raised in curiosity. “But?” she repeats, leaning forward like she’s already anticipating the drama I’m about to unload.

“She has a dog.”

“So? You like dogs.”

I shift on my heels. “Not this dog.”

That has my sister's attention. “Why? What’s wrong with the dog?”

“It’s ugly.” I pause, dreading this moment. “And its name is Gio.”

My sister blinks.

Hand goes to the counter to brace herself as she dissolves into uncontrollable laughter. She’s gasping for air, face turning red as she struggles to form words.

“Shut. Up,” she coughs. “I’m dying, shut up she does not have a dog named Gio. How? Why?”

This isn’t exactly something I want to share, but Nova’s relentless stare is like a pry bar, cracking me open. “Her dad died,” I tell her quietly, glancing away. “And he was into hockey.”

Nova’s laughter halts mid-breath. Her head tilts, her expression softening with a bit of regret.

“Oh,” she says, her voice dipping sadly. “Wait, so…”

“Yeah,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Apparently, he was a huge fan of the Baddies. Came to every game, had season tickets, followed my stats—the whole thing. When he passed, he left the dog to Austin.”

“Oh my God,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s so sweet. And so awkward.” My sister giggles. “You’re literally competing with a dog version of yourself for Austin’s attention. ”

“Not helpful,” I grumble. “Did I mention it’s ugly?”

“There is no such thing as an ugly dog.”

I shake my head in disagreement. “False. It’s a Chinese Crested and it’s the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen and now she wants me to meet it in person.”

“Hey. Listen to me.” Nova straightens, putting on her “big sister” face, a trace of amusement in her eyes. “You’ve got this. It’s a dog , not a gatekeeper to her heart.”

Famous last words.