Page 249 of Wrong Pucking Player

“You’re welcome, Wyatt.”

We take our time sipping our drinks before I have a proposition for him.

“I want you to return as a bodyguard at the end of the season.”

He doesn’t seem shocked by my request, but he needs me to answer one thing.

“Why?”

“Kenzie, Wyatt.” I have no choice but to admit it. “We can’t lose Kenzie in all of this.”

“How bad do you think it’ll get?” he questions.

“It’s not how bad.” That’s not important. “They know who she is, Wyatt. Where she belongs.”

We’re barely breathing as the tense silence is interrupted by the arrival of his drink.

“They’re scared,” he mutters after the server’s departure.

“Salvatore. Cyrus. Andrews.” I dictate each surname. “Wouldn’t you be trembling shitless seeing those three families on one sheet of paper?”

“Xandra doesn’t know anything,” he stresses.

“You think they don’t know that?” I offer back. “More importantly, won’t use that against her even. That’s what they’ve been doing. Keeping her bound to this country is like it’s a privilege. Controlling her funds. Keeping her captive in this small shithole so she never sees her potential.”

It makes me mad just thinking about it.

“That’s what they did to Nico, Wyatt,” I bring up. “Belittled his woman until she felt like she was fucking garbage. He interfered but kept a distance, even though I’m positive it was killing him.”

“He lost his smile ‘cause of it…” Wyatt grumbles, knowing what this dark world does to so many. How it can make or break you.

No different from hockey.

The world would be traumatized watching your end on the ice, but in the shadows, no one cares. You’re lucky they find your body.

“They still call him Smiley, though,” I admit and allow myself to smirk because Nico earned that nickname. “He always ensures to smile when he takes out anyone who tries to take what’s his.”

He understands what I’m saying as he reaches for his drink and takes his time drinking it. I do the same, the silence easing my thoughts and worries.

We have to do this together, or else the future we want will be doomed before it has the chance to gain wings and fly.

“I want to tell her,” Wyatt whispers.

“We will.” I don’t have a problem letting her know. “But I want to see something.”

“See what?”

“How desperate he wants what’s ours.”

We share a look again.

“He?” Wyatt repeats the single word.

“He.” I nudge my head ever so slightly to the right, encouraging him to move his gaze until he sees what I’ve already caught onto.

Winchester and Fernandez.

Their footsteps can be heard as they’re guided to the table a few booths down. It’s a bit amusing to see that’s all they can afford, especially in a place that either acknowledges luxury or mocks it in unique ways.

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