Page 195 of The Head Game

“Oh, is that what they’re saying?” August asked, smiling at Nico. “Well, all I’ll say is that if that’s the case, they’re going to be shocked when we’re still together in a decade or two.”

“Just a decade or two?” Nico teased.

“Well, maybe a little longer than that.”

Nico’s grin widened.

* * *

Nico lovingly petted the leather steering wheel of his Porsche as he slid out of the driver’s seat.

August had been sweet to chauffeur him everywhere but, God, it felt good to be able to drive himself places again.

“How do you feel about going to the game tonight?” August asked as they walked toward the arena.

“Good. It’ll be weird but good.”

“For me too.”

Nico shot August an understanding glance. “I bet.”

“But I’m glad your headaches are gone.”

“Ugh, me too,” Nico said with a groan. “I mean, it’s been a whole month without one!”

August squeezed his hand. “That’s something to celebrate.”

They’d tried to attend a game previously but the lights and noise had triggered Nico’s headaches, so although he’d been at the arena before every home game in the past few months, he’d stayed back and focused on behind-the-scenes stuff.

It had given him a chance to see his teammates and do his social media work. He and Kelsey were now good friends and he’d enjoyed driving Kate nuts with increasingly outlandish plans for the team.

But tonight he’d get to hang with the boys, then watch the game from the team box, and that was going to be a blast.

Although there was one thing they needed to do first.

“So,” Nico said as casually as he could manage. “I need to stop by Kate’s office before we go to the locker room. You wanna come with?”

“Sure.”

Nico tried to hide his grin. August had no idea what was in store for him tonight. Gah, this was going to be so much fun.

“Hey, Kate,” Nico said ten minutes later, knocking on the frame of her half-open door. “I’m here about that thing we talked about earlier.”

“Sure, come in,” she called.

Nico swung the door open and gently nudged August though first. He stopped in his tracks, barely far enough inside the door for Nico to squeeze by.

He was too busy staring at the man seated in a chair across from Kate’s desk.

Silver-haired and handsome, he smiled broadly as he got to his feet, holding out a hand. “You must be August Manning.”

“You … you’re Martin Foster,” August whispered. “Oh, sir, it’s an honor to meet you.”

Martin chuckled. “No need to be formal. You can call me Marty.”

“Just like your fish,” Nico reminded him.

August flushed. “Uh, Marty, I—I hope you know I only meant that as a compliment. You were my favorite player growing up and—”

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