Page 120 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

“You know,” he continued, his tone light, “I’m not great at coloring. I tried once, but Sloane said I couldn’t stay inside the lines.”

I smiled, because he was talking about some doodling he’d done on a piece of paper—hardly coloring. But I loved that he was trying. I glanced at Rome, hoping he’d pick up on the same ease, the same warmth he was offering him now.

For a moment, Rome didn’t move. Then, slowly, his eyes flicked to me, and I gave him a small nod, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Logan’s really nice. I promise.”

He didn’t speak, but his tiny hands loosened their grip on his knees just a fraction. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Logan smiled. “Can I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the floor a little closer to him.

Rome didn’t respond, but he didn’t shake his head either. Logan took that as permission, moving carefully, like he was trying not to spook him. He sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Sloane says your favorite color is orange,” Logan commented, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “That’s my favorite color too.”

Rome hesitated, his small fingers inching toward the crayon box in front of him. He didn’t look at him directly, but I could see the way his body was slowly uncurling, like he was starting to trust him, just a little. He grabbed an orange and hesitated before slowly rolling it toward Logan.

We both froze. “You’re going to share your favorite color with me? That’s awesome, bud.”

A small smile peeked across Rome’s lips. “There’s another one in the box.”

It took us a second to respond, because we were both gaping at the little glimpse of Rome’s personality.

“Oh, well, I’m still going to think I’m special you gave me orange,” Logan said with a laugh. “I’ll just imagine it.”

Rome finally met Logan’s eyes. His hand hovered over the crayons before he carefully plucked out the other orange he mentioned. He still didn’t speak, but I could see the tension in his shoulders easing, just a little.

“Okay,” he finally said with a shrug.

My eyes were glassy as I stared wide-eyed at Rome. This was the most I’d seen him interact with anyone aside from me.

Rome turned toward me…and handed me the crayon, his small fingers barely brushing mine as he did. It was a tiny moment, one that would have seemed insignificant to anyone else, but to me, it felt monumental.

“So you can feel special too.”

And there was no hiding the tears that fell down my face at that one.

Logan took over while I was falling apart, his smile never faltering. “Okay, show me what to do. Maybe you can teach me how to color, Sloane was a terrible teacher.”

Rome snorted—which made my tears come even faster—and then he picked up another crayon, blue this time, and started coloring quietly, his movements slow and deliberate. Logan followed his lead, staying inside the lines, though I noticed him purposely slipping outside them sometimes, just to make Rome smile.

“You are pretty bad,” Rome said quietly after a moment, freezing as soon as the words came out, like he was scared of Logan’s reaction.

Logan pretended not to notice. “Ouch,” he cried softly, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d been wounded. “You got me with that one. We all can’t be talented artists, though, Rome. Some of us have to be good at other things.”

Rome’s shoulders relaxed, and then there was another faint smile on his lips.

“What kind of other things are you good at?” Rome asked a few minutes later. “Cooking?”

I snorted, because that was also not one of Logan’s skills. Rome glanced at me, confused.

“I’m not good at cooking either, unfortunately. I’m good at hockey, though,” Logan said, his voice sliding into a whine. “Sloane, tell him I’m good at hockey.”

I smiled, my chest tightening over the small grin that had appeared on Rome’s face at Logan’s theatrics. “He’s very good at hockey, Rome,” I said in a patronizing voice.

Rome’s smile widened. “I don’t think she means that,” he said softly.

Logan huffed. “Shetotallymeans that. I even brought pucks with me today, because I’m that good at hockey. Do you want to see?”

Rome glanced back at his coloring page, like he was debating. Then he shyly nodded.

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