Page 20 of Stubborn Puckboy (Puckboys #9)

NINETEEN

Novi

One of the things I love most about my kitchen is how calming it is. Like a cave. Polished cement floors, black cabinetry, and a ten-foot-long milky bench top with deep brown vein running all through it.

Plus, it is always stocked with food.

I hunch over my counter, shoveling chicken and rice into my mouth and pointedly ignoring my constantly ringing phone. Maybe I should have left it in that lake. Every time there is a pause in the buzzing, my whole house presses down on me in comforting silence.

The vibrating goes off again, and Pala-SOOK lights up the screen.

He is not giving up.

I drain my water glass, and when it is still not done, I finally answer.

“Da.”

“Bestieeee!”

“This was a mistake.”

Ezra’s husky laugh answers me. “Why am I reading an article about how you’re besties with big Kiki?”

“You jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous. I’m outraged. I claimed you.”

My low chuckle is loud in this room. “I was friends with Connor first.”

“With shitty decisions like that, you’re lucky you have me.”

“So this call has nothing to do with all those drunk photos of me online?”

Ezra makes a strange sound. “What a man does with the other end of a bottle of vodka is his business.”

“If it is anything other than drinking it, I don’t want it to be my business either.”

“Did you want to talk about it though? I feel like that’s probably something a best friend should offer.”

“Which part?”

“The part where you drunkenly rambled about being stupid and going swimming?”

Nope, I do not want to talk about that. “Nyet.”

“Okay, so let’s discuss the part where you confessed your undying love for me and Anton had to defend my innocence?”

“Never happened.”

“You were all, ‘ Ezra, you’re so sexy and the best hockey player ever. Gretzky, who? ’”

“That does not sound like me at all.”

“Sorry.” He drops his voice, all deep and angry. “Gretzky, who?”

“That definitely did not sound like me.”

From the background, I catch Anton’s voice. “Actually, that one did.”

“You always need your husband there for backup?”

“It’s more that I’m here for your sanity than his,” Anton replies.

“If it will make you get off the phone, we can talk about me getting drunk.” As much as I really don’t want to go there, there’s a small part of me that does. I have been keeping it out of mind as best as I can, but even without focusing on it, there’s this lurking feeling of wrongness.

“We already were,” Ezra says.

“The real reason.”

Ezra drops his playfulness. “Your coach did you dirty. He should have ended that press conference about six questions earlier.”

“I should not have gotten all twisted up.”

“They pushed you into it. Those assholes were baiting you to get something homophobic.”

It’s not like they had to try hard. “Maybe I am homophobic.”

He grunts. “Closeted doesn’t equal homophobic. You?—”

“I had sex with Colby.”

Ezra stutters to a stop. There is a long silence before he replies again. “How was it?”

“Incredible. We kissed. I have not kissed a man before.”

Ezra breaks into laughter. “Before we became friends, I never would have thought Radimir Novicov was a gossip. Listen to you.”

I smile at my empty bowl. “He was very good kisser.”

“You wanna do it again?”

“Repeatedly.”

“Then go for it.”

This is one of the many things I admire Ezra for.

Everything is easy for him. Would I have been the same way if I wasn’t so worried about my family?

If I wasn’t raised with the idea that straight was the only way to be and everything else was wrong?

“I am very confident on the ice, but for this, I have no idea. What if he doesn’t want to do it again? ”

“From what big Kiki said when I called him to tell him to back off my bestie, I don’t think you need to worry.”

“Now look at who is gossiping.”

“Yeah, but people expect it from me.” Ezra has a point.

Though I don’t know why people don’t expect it from me when I am always having cute gossip huddles with my teammates. I can’t hold back my next question. “What did Connor say?”

“That your coach was all heart-eyed for you.”

“He said that?”

“Well … no. What he actually said was that he thought he was picking up on a vibe between you two, and since I’m an amazing best friend, I told him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

But if there was enough of a vibe that Connor-I’m-so-straight-Kikishkin could pick up on it, you don’t have to worry about Kessinger. ”

Somehow, that terrifies and excites me. I hate knowing we are so obvious but love that maybe he’s thinking of me the same way I’m thinking of him.

“What should I do?”

“Taunt him until he shoves you up against a wall and takes you there and then?”

I’m concerned by how easily that came to him. “That is not a thing that would ever work.”

“Ah, yeah, never,” Anton mutters somewhere in the background.

“Do I text him?”

Ezra makes a noise of disgust. “Seems sort of basic and normal to me, but be boring if that’s what you want.”

“Colby will like it.”

“Urg, he’s boring too ? Where have all the fun people gone?”

“I am very fun. I went swimming last night.”

“No, you tried to go swimming. Your phone is the one who made it. I was about to give up calling in case it was broken.”

“You give up?”

“Only when Anton promises sex.”

From how they both talk, the need for it does not lessen. If I reach out to Colby, that might be a mistake because then if I get it again, will it help? Or will I keep wanting more? We could keep things quiet. Private. But is that something he would even want?

“I need to message him. We will talk later.”

“Before you hang up,” Ezra rushes out, anticipating me. “Love you.” He is mocking, but he won’t let me go unless I say it back.

Little pest. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.” Love you too.

We end the call, and I agonize over what the hell I’m supposed to text Colby. It might be boring to Ezra, but my nerves are running high. It’s like I’m on skates for the first time when I hit the speech-to-text button. “What are you doing?”

That doesn’t give anything away, and if he’s busy, I can leave it at that.

He doesn’t keep me waiting.

Kessinger:

About to pick up lunch.

That doesn’t tell me anything. Technically, he is busy, but is he only picking it up, or is he eating it with someone, or … or … I scrub my hands through my hair and pace to one side of my kitchen and back again. I activate and deactivate the speech button a few times but still have nothing to say.

Kessinger:

You hungry?

I glance over at my empty bowl, think of my fridge stocked full of meals, then hit the button again. “I’m starving.”

Kessinger:

Burritos are on their way.

My nerves soar. This is promising. We can talk when he gets here and work some things out. At least face-to-face, Colby will not be able to resist my boyish charms.

The whole house is spotless, so I have nothing to do to release some of the restlessness taking over me.

After signing multimillion-dollar contracts for close to twenty years, I can afford a big house and people to look after it for me while I’m gone.

This might be the first time I hate that they do their jobs so well.

I glance over at the little pink bunny sitting on my mantle that my niece Mishka sent me for Novy God and am hit with guilt again.

My sister and her family have only visited me a handful of times, and I used to go back there every off-season but haven’t made the trip the last two years.

Mishka calls me her Zaychik—her bunny—and by following this path to Colby, owning who I am, I have to come to terms with the fact I will never be able to go home again.

Probably ever.

Most people cannot understand why I love Russia so much, but they do not understand growing up there.

The sense of community in the town I lived in.

There’s a small part of me that doesn’t blame Elena for not wanting to leave, but it’s being quickly drowned out by the part of me that wants to shake her.

All she has to do is denounce me, goddamn it.

My phone buzzes with another text.

Kessinger:

Are you going to send me your address or am I expected to guess?

My face floods with heat as I quickly reply. I have been waiting here for nothing. It takes way too long for my front gate to alert me to a visitor, and when the gate slides open, I head to the door and wait for Colby.

He pulls up in his black E-PACE, and when he climbs out, I forget to be guilty. I forget to worry about consequences.

His black hair is slicked back from his face, sweet lines settled on his forehead, sunglasses blocking his eyes from my view, but not that goddamn crooked smile. He cradles our burritos in one big hand as he hits the lock button on his keys with the other.

“This is showy,” he says, nodding toward the house.

“It was well below budget,” I reply. Then I kick myself because I sound stupid.

Colby breaks into laughter. “I don’t think you’re supposed to say that about a place that most people will never afford in their lifetimes.” His feet slow as he reaches me, hovering right in my space. “You said you were starving?”

I clear my throat. “Ravenous.”

“Let’s go inside and get you fed.”