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Viv

Now that I’m back in the grind of pre-season prep, I remember all the reasons I fell in love with rugby. Surrounded by my teammates, working day in and day out for a bigger purpose, a bright goal…

We’re going to win the national championship this year. I can feel it in my bones. I want it. I want it bad . I’ll stop at nothing to bring the trophy back home to Boston, where it should be.

Today has been the kind of dreary fall day where the weather has a mind of its own. It’s taunting me, teasing winter is on its way. Freezing cold rain. It hasn’t let up all day.

As captain, it’s my duty to attend all the social activities, so even though I’m not in the mood, after practice I pull myself together and show up at the pub where the team has gathered for drinks. Kiana waves at me from down the table, where she’s talking to Andi and Grace. I wave back but stay where I’m at on the periphery of the group.

Cari Gonzales, the new, fresh-faced phenom out of Harvard, bounds over to me.

“Hi, Viv,” she says, bubbling with enthusiasm.

“Hi.” I want to be welcoming to her. She’s surely going to be an asset for our team, but right now the exuberance… it’s too much.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” she says.

My eyebrows go up. I think she said that all in one breath.

“I’ve been a fan of yours for, like, forever,” she continues. “I had a poster of you on my wall growing up. And now to be on the same team as you—wow!”

“Wow.” My throat feels dry. I take a sip of my tonic water. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two!” she chirps. “I want to get a spot on the national team this year.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it,” I tell her. “You’re insanely talented.”

That’s not a lie. She’s one of the up-and-coming superstars in the making. College rugby is a different animal now than it was when I was in school. We’re only seven years apart, but it feels like seventy.

She gapes at me. “You really think so?”

“We wouldn’t have signed you if we didn’t think so,” I deflect.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks, and then before I can say anything, she continues: “I only wanted to get signed by Boston. My brothers both train here. I don’t know that I’m ready to live so far away from my family.”

Sidestepping that, I say, “Oh? Your brother is an athlete?”

“Both of them.” She giggles. “Tony is a gymnast with the U.S. national team. He’s based out of the training center in Dorchester. And Al plays for the Grizzlies.”

I swallow. “Your brother is a hockey player?”

She nods, eager. “And your brother plays hockey too. We have so much in common!”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Her smile dims, likely at my disinterested tone.

Shit.

Cari is bright and sparkly. Just because I’m a jagged black stone doesn’t mean I should dim her shine. I’m not a monster, but peopling doesn’t come easily to me, especially when their energy doesn’t match mine. I’m a pessimist by nature; it’s hard to relate to people who are naturally happy and outgoing. Once we’re friends, I cherish them deeply, regardless of any personality differences. It’s getting over that initial hump that’s difficult for me.

Still, I don’t want to be rude. She’s my teammate, which means she’s automatically someone whose feelings I should care about. I have to look out for her. And she’s so young. My heart aches at her naiveté. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into with a career in professional sports.

“How are you settling in with the team?”

“It’s going well!” She brightens again. “I’m having so much fun. It’s a lot of work but it’s the good kind of work.”

I know what she means. There’s nothing like the pleasant ache of sore muscles after a vigorous workout.

“Anyway,” Cari says loudly. “I was talking to Al, and I was showing him some photos of the team, and he thinks you’re totally gorgeous. Do you want to meet him?”

I blink. “Meet him?”

“I know blind dates are totally lame, but I promise he’s a good guy,” she says. “He’s twenty-seven, so yeah, he’s a bit younger than you, but does that really matter? He’s hot too.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“You think your brother is hot?” I repeat dumbly. My brain can’t kick into gear.

“Not, like… No,” Cari says awkwardly. “He’s objectively good looking.”

“Uh huh.” Unable to help myself, I eye her up and down. I don’t think I can keep the judgment off my face.

“I promise I’m not interested in my own brother,” she blurts, her face red.

To my surprise, that cracks my mood enough that I laugh.

“I get it. My brother is, like, movie star attractive,” I tell her. “Doesn’t mean I want to fuck him though.”

“You can fuck my brother,” she offers, then winces. “I’m making this weird. I just—you’re cool, and he’s cool, and it would be cool if you two got together.”

“And he’s not just looking to hit it and quit it? I know how hockey players are.”

Cari shakes her head. “He says he’s over the hook up scene. Not that I want to know what my brother gets up to. You know? I don’t need to know any details. He thinks you’re, like, super gorgeous.” She pulls out her phone. “Here. Let me show you?—”

The guy on the screen is objectively cute, I guess. He has a square jaw and dark brown hair, short on the sides and longer lettuce on top, with a scruffy beard. His eyes are soulful.

From the picture, there’s no tingling, no sparks, no nothing. He’s just some dude.

But when I see the eagerness on my teammate’s face…

“Okay, you can set us up,” I relent.

He doesn’t have to be Mr. Right. It’s okay if he’s just Mr. Right Now.

And that’s how I find myself two weeks later on the doorstep of a small row house in Mattapan. It’s not the kind of house I expected a big shot hockey star to live in. Knowing what my brother’s condo and the places his friends live in back in Colorado are like…

The door swings open and Cari is on the front stoop.

“You’re here!” She squeals and jumps in place. “He’ll be here any minute.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask her.

“Yeah, of course!”

Al suggested something low-key, grabbing coffee and then maybe dinner. He texted me while I was on my way that his practice was running late. Fine, okay, whatever. I get that.

He did not mention he lives with his sister.

I don’t know why that bothers me. I lived with my brother Perry for two years when he was signed with Boston. But now…

Taking a breath, I try to release the tension in my shoulders and look around.

The house is shabby but clearly well-loved. The room is clean and smells nice. The leather couch has a plaid throw blanket tossed over the back. There are photos everywhere.

My eyes zero in on a framed photo on the wall. It’s a family portrait, a young Cari and two brothers with their parents. She looks to be about fourteen, gangly and brace-faced. The brother in the middle is wearing a hockey jersey and a ball cap; he’s just been drafted. The other brother is?—

I swallow.

The other brother has dark hair and a short, scruffy beard. His muscles bulge in his too-small suit jacket.

But his face…

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing toward the other brother.

“Oh, that’s Tony,” Cari says casually.

I toss the name around. “Tony.”

“Yeah. Antonio. He’s the oldest,” she says. “He’s a gymnast.”

The room starts to close in on me. The walls are shrinking. My shirt collar feels like it’s choking me. I can’t breathe.

“I have to go,” I announce. I haven’t taken my coat off yet. Good. I can make a clean break for it.

Cari frowns. “Did I do something?”

“No. This is—” I gulp. “I have to?—”

She seems to read the panic on my face. “Can I get you some water?”

I shake my head. “Go. I have to go.” My hands start to shake and I shove them in my pocket so she won’t notice.

I can’t melt down. Not here. Not now.

Cari reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Take care of yourself, Viv.”

Turning to leave, I start my escape from the small living room. I’m out the door and making my way down the stairs when I run into a brick wall.

Fuck. That hurts.

Strong hands land on my biceps, steadying me.

“Are you okay?” a rough, gravelly voice asks.

I look up and recoil.

Because the wall I ran into? That’s Tony Gonzales.

The guy I hooked up with at the Olympics.

The worst mistake of my life.