Page 139 of The Head Game

And while August had spent most of his life with a careful plan for his future, he didn’t have one anymore.

But what had all that planning gotten him anyway?

A fiancé who left him for someone less rigid and a career that might be over at the age of twenty-five.

So, August decided maybe he should take a page from Nico’s book and enjoy life for a while. What more could he lose?

Something else had changed in Nico lately.

He’d buckled down when it came to his rehab exercises. He’d even started the jigsaw puzzles Isa and Pieter had bought for him. Initially, he’d scoffed at the idea of them being good for his finger dexterity and brain recovery but now, he applied himself.

He often did them while they watched hockey games and August found himself missing the weight of Nico’s head on his thigh and the soft texture of his hair under his fingers.

Following his rehab appointment this morning, he’d slid into the Porsche and had been talking nonstop. They were halfway home and August wondered if he’d taken a single breath between sentences.

Well, halfway to Nico’s condo, anyway.

Though considering how much time August had spent there in the past few weeks, it was as familiar as his own house.

Yesterday, August had made a quick trip to his place in Hamilton to grab some belongings, throw some food to the stray cats who roamed the neighborhood, and check on Marty.

August had worried Marty would be lethargic or something, being so lonely, but the fish had been fine.

Maybe August had been overly optimistic in thinking the fish cared one way or another about him being around. August supposed as long as he was getting fed and his tank was clean, Marty didn’t care who was on the other side of the glass.

The companionship was all one-sided, apparently.

The thought had made August feel rather glum but when he’d returned to Toronto last night and been greeted by Nico’s enthusiastic kiss, he decided having a fiancé, however fake, was a definite upgrade from a fish.

Nico poked at his thigh. “Hey, are you listening, Auggie? I have good news.”

August briefly took his gaze off the road ahead. “Sorry. You said your peripheral vision has improved ten percent.”

“Yeah, and my grip strength is up too.”

August glanced over at Nico. He had a black toque on, and in this light, his eyes looked especially blue.

He looked happy. Happier than August had seen him in a while, and August wanted to keep that going, make it last.

“Hey, do you want to go do something fun?” August asked, feeling impulsive. “To celebrate the good news.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Uhh …” August racked his brain.

What did Nico enjoy?

Hockey, of course, but that might be a little fraught at the moment. He was a DJ so he must enjoy music. Going out to a club was certainly something he’d enjoyed in the past—August had seen proof on his social media—but he probably wasn’t feeling up to it either.

Even on good days, Nico was often in bed by ten or eleven p.m. and loud noises and bright lights still made his headaches worse.

So that was definitely out. August would have to keep thinking.

“Let’s grab lunch,” he said.

“Oh, sure.” Nico shrugged. “Sounds good.”

He still looked happy but August wondered if he’d been hoping for more.

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