Wild Tendy (IceCats 2)

“There it is,” she says, pointing at me and leaning on the counter. “For such a strong, beautiful woman, you sure are insecure as fuck when it comes to guys. It’s the main reason you took Mike’s bullshit for so long. You know you’re better than this, right?”

I shake my head. “Whatever. I’m not insecure.”

“Aviva, why did you let him see you the way you did?”

I gawk at her, confused. “’Cause he grabbed the boob. I didn’t want him to yank it off. That would have been something. I would have been mortified.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “That would have been the best story, though.”

“Focus,” I say dryly, and she nods.

“Yes, anyway…while I can understand that excuse, I know it’s just an excuse. You told him because you trust him, because for once, you felt good. And you felt confident about someone.”

I blink. “No way.”

“Yes way. You were fucking Mike for how long? Fifteen years?”

“Why is Mike coming into this?”

“Oh no! They scored again! Look at him, Aviva! He is so bummed!” Callie yells, and both Jaylin and I look at the screen.

Aw. He does.

“He’s a man. He’s fine,” I say offhandedly. My comment is not well received by Callie or Jaylin.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Why are you so mean?”

“What? I’m keeping it 100,” I say, mocking Jaylin. She just laughs, though. “Back to Mike, please?”

She holds out her glass to me. “After your surgery, Mike never saw your chest. Never. Am I right?”

I really don’t know why I chose her to be soul friends with. I look down into my glass, moving my fingers along the rim. “Yes,” I mumble.

“And that was, what, after five years of knowing him before you had the surgery?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’ve known this guy for like a month, and you showed him.”

I press my lips together, my heart beating funny in my chest. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, sis. It screams volumes, and you know it.”

I swallow hard as I shrug one shoulder. “He’s kind.”

“Yup.”

“And sweet.”

“Yeah, his eyes were trained on you like you were a puck.”

“Crap, they scored again!”

She jerks a thumb behind her. “Not tonight, though. Tonight, he apparently sucks.”

We both look over at the screen as the announcer says, “I have never seen Merryweather let in this many pucks in a ten-minute span. He looks lost. He looks like he’s not even in the game. I fully expect them to pull him.”

Callie looks back at me, her eyes wide. “No! That will hurt his feelings.”

“It’s a game, sweetie. He’s really strong,” Jaylin says then, waving her off. “But I think he’s good. Look at him. He’s pissed. He’ll bounce back.”

Callie seems to agree with that as she sits back on her heels. She’s newly obsessed with hockey, and if I’m honest, I may be as well. It’s mainly the thing I have for the goalie.

Jaylin looks back at me, her eyes critical. “For the first time in, shit, I don’t know, nine years, I actually saw excitement in your eyes.” She leans over, taking my hand in hers. “You had this smile on your face that warmed me from the inside out, Vee. I mean, it was beautiful. When you kissed him, I watched your whole body do it—”

“You sound like a stalker,” I comment, but she doesn’t care. She’s going to tell me what I don’t want to hear. What I already know.

That Nico means something to me.

“He makes you feel alive. And damn it, Aviva, I need that for you. I need you to live. If he has a way to make you want to live, then damn it, I’m Team Nico. All the way.”

“You’re supposed to be Team Aviva,” I say softly.

“That’s a losing team right now. I’m a winner.” When our eyes meet, we both laugh. “You’re a winner too.” She laces our fingers together and squeezes. “I think he is wonderful, and you should call him.”

Before I can even comment, Callie screams as she shoots up off the couch. “No!”

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask, panicked. Did she hurt herself? Was she flipping off the couch again?

She throws out her hands toward the screen. “They scored again!”

Yup, they sure did. Beside the celebrated hug is Nico, his shoulders drooping as he stares at the bench. He looks like a statue, and then he nods. He smacks his stick to each side of the net and then skates toward the bench as another goalie comes on.

“Oh, they kicked him out!”

My heart aches as I watch him throw his stick down the hall and then his gloves. He kicks the door and then slams himself down. His helmet is still on, and when they hand him a hat, he throws it back at them.

“I have never seen this behavior out of Merryweather. It’s as if I don’t even know him,” the commentator rambles on.

“For sure. He needs to regroup and come back strong on Wednesday. We need him. This game is over,” the other jerk in a suit says.