Page 51 of Dice & Dekes

I’m sobbing, begging him to wake up, when I notice something tucked just behind his boot. A box. A ring. My chest cracks open as I fumble for it, as if my hands can rewind time. As if love can resuscitate him.

But when I look down again, it’s not Mick.

It’s Viktor.

The blood is the same. The smile is gone. And the ring in my hand might as well be a funeral shroud.

“No—Vik, stay with me,” I plead, shaking him, but he’s already gone. They always go.

Every man I love leaves.

I jolt awake with a gasp, hand flying to the tags around my neck.

The TV is still on. The sandwich Viktor brought sits untouched on the coffee table.

But I can’t stop shaking.

Chapter Twelve

Viktor

Knova’s frosty mood clings to her like a second skin. It starts as a chill and turns into a full freeze. I don’t understand what I did, but I feel the distance like frostbite—I’ve lost feeling, but the damage is still there. I don’t understand why she got so angry, and then I’m traveling, so there’s no good way to ask. I try texting her and get only brusque responses. All my calls go straight to voicemail. This isn’t entirely unusual for her, but it is a special brand of torture.

I finally stumble through the door at the end of my trip, hoping we’ll finally have a chance to talk, only to trip over a stack of packages.

“Knova?” I call through the front door. “Did you order something?” I nudge the packages inside with the toe of my shoe, since my hands are full of all my travel crap.

Knova emerges from the bedroom. I open my arms and pucker my lips for a kiss. She ignores me and bends down to pick up the nearest envelope. She upends it onto the couch, shaking out two t-shirts in the bright green and purple Venom colors. They aren’t branded merch, though. They’re both printed with QR codes, one in her size and one in mine.

“What are these?” I ask, as I foist my crap onto the other half of the couch. So she didn’t kiss me. No big deal. I’m just here. Vibing. Not worried about whether she’s done something in my absence to bring us closer to an annulment…

Why does it feels like getting benched after scoring a hat trick—like I’m being punished for a win.

“See for yourself.” She holds up one of the shirts so I can scan the QR code, which I do. An image pops up on my phone of the Venom logo over the wordsSlay All Day. “Aw,” I say. “I love it.”

“I thought you might.” She whips off her old shirt to reveal a black bra.

I drop my phone. “Yes! That’s more like it.”

…and pulls on the new one.

“Never mind.”

She snorts. “You’re ridiculous. Here.” She tosses me the other shirt. “It’s the same as mine.”

“Aw, are we gonna be that couple?” I pull my shirt off, drop it on top of my duffle, and don the new one. I grin like a fool. Maybe this is her way of saying sorry—of showing me we’re okay without having to say it. Maybe we’re finally good. It’s a perfect fit.

“Exactly. Twinsies.” Knova holds up a hand for a high-five. It’s not exactly the earth-shattering kiss I was hoping for, but it’s better than being iced out. I slap my palm against hers and grin.

“You know…” I pause, because now might not be the best time to bring this up, but if I don’t, it’s going to bother me. Once more unto the breach and damn the torpedoes, or however the saying goes. “You were a little cold while I was away. I thought you were still mad.”

I’ve spent the entire road trip replaying every moment between us like a coach reviewing footage of a loss. I need to know what I did wrong. And I can’t fix it if I don’t say something.

Knova pouts. She swoops forward to smoosh my face between her palms. “How could I stay mad at you? Come on, let’s go. Knight told me everyone’s meeting up at the Puck Drop.”

I swallow a sigh. I hadn’t mentioned the meetup on account of her radio silence. I was hoping we could stay in and talk about what happened. Things are still off. I think. Or maybe Knova’s just got me all turned around. After all, the Knova I know wouldn’t buy us matching t-shirts to wear to a team event. Is this her version of staking her claim? Maybe she’s just being weird because she doesn’t know how to express her… love?

That doesn’t sit right with me, but if she’s not going to explain herself, then I guess I’m not going to get a real answer tonight. Instead, I take a couple of minutes to freshen up in the bathroom—I smell like airplane, and I’m not a fan—before heading right back out the door in our matching shirts.

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