Page 133 of The Head Game

Nico paused, whistling when he got to the kitchen. “Damn, Charlie, you did do a lot of work in here.”

Nico’d seen some of Charlie’s interior design work on his Instagram, but the full reveal of Dustin’s house hadn’t been posted yet.

It had been ugly as shit before but everything from the sleek wood cabinets to the simple gold hardware suited Dustin and Charlie much better now.

Charlie smiled. “Oh, I just came up with the concept. The construction crew did the real work.”

“He’s too modest,” Dustin said, staring adoringly at Charlie. “I’m in awe of how talented he is.”

Charlie gave Dustin a little smile.

“It’s beautiful,” August murmured, looking around. “You do incredible work.”

Charlie shot him an appreciative glance. “Why thank you, August.”

Nico smiled, unsurprised by Charlie’s reaction to August. Yeah, he was hot.

Once they were all seated in the living room, Dustin asked everyone what they’d like to drink.

Nico declined the beer. “I’m not supposed to,” he said with a resigned sigh. “No alcohol, no caffeine, not much sugar, salt, or processed foods. It’s all very boring.”

“Well, if you need nourishing, not-boring recipes, let me know,” Charlie said with a smile. “They’re my specialty.”

“I might take you up on that. My parents are driving me nuts with it.”

“So, how are you feeling?” Dustin asked, leaning forward.

“Still getting headaches,” he admitted. “My grip strength is shit and I have no peripheral vision in one eye.”

Dustin winced. “Must be frustrating.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But Nico’s been working hard.” August patted his thigh. They were pressed right up against each other—mostly due to the general size of the people sharing the sofa with them—but Nico didn’t mind.

It surprised him every time how much he liked having a physical reminder of August being close.

The conversation continued, the guys discussing how Nico was feeling until the annoyance grew like an itch beneath his skin. He usually liked attention, but shit like this was awful.

It was fun when people talked about his skating or his DJing or his model work, but this was depressing.

“How much does rehab suck?” Dominic asked.

“So much,” Nico moaned. “I have to do all this stupid shit like training my eyeballs to work with my brain again. Basically, I can’t do anything strenuous. Can’t even work out. All I can do is go for gentle walks.”

“But look on the bright side, except for the time right around the second hit and the two seizures you had, your memory is back. And you got good news at the doctor visit yesterday,” August said.

“True.” Nico dragged his toque off and there was a hiss of indrawn breaths. “Scar is gnarly but healing really well.”

“Shit,” Colton whispered. “That’s badass.”

“I know, right?” Nico said, but only because he didn’t want to admit how much he hated it. “Miss my hair but whatever. It’ll grow back. At least there’s no infection and I didn’t have a stroke or anything.”

Dustin grimaced.

August nudged Nico’s side with his elbow. “You also got cleared for gentle swimming.”

“That’s not swimming,” Nico protested. “I’m allowed to float in a pool with supervision. But no laps. No getting my heart rate up.”

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