Page 18 of Yard Sale

He wrinkled his nose. “I hate muffins.”

“They’re not for you,” I reminded him with a laugh. “And who hates muffins?”

“Me. They’re like big, weirdly shaped pancakes.”

“I don’t know if you’ve had terrible muffins or amazing pancakes to say that, but just so you know, everyone is allowed opinions.” I lifted his hand and pressed it to my cheek. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why he didn’t stop me. “Even ones that are wrong.”

He stroked his fingers over my jawline, then slowly pulled back. He swallowed, his throat dry enough it clicked, and then he let out the smallest sigh.

“Do you have what you need?”

The space between us suddenly felt like a canyon, but I didn’t push into it. I took a step back. “I did. I should get going so you can enjoy your super-cold soda when Ivanov gets back.”

Tiago’s mouth settled into a smile. “There are no cold sodas. I just figured we could have one more moment alone before you had to go.”

Why did that sound like it meant something?

And fuck, why did I want it to?

CHAPTER 5

TIAGO

Stepping out of the ophthalmologist’s office, I squinted at the burning light that stung from having my eyes dilated. Shoving my glasses on, I reached into my satchel and pushed my laptop aside so I could grab my folding cane.

Too many people assumed that bright lights were perfect for people with RP, but that wasn’t the case. At least, it wasn’t my case. It was painful and almost fully blinding.

My ideal light was the perfect sunset, right before it dipped below the horizon. I could see so much then, for the few seconds it lasted.

But I knew those days were coming to an end. I’d lost even more vision since the hospital, and though it had plateaued over the last two weeks, the prognosis I was walking away with was losing all light perception by the end of next year.

Of course, my doctors had been wrong in the past, and they could have been wrong now, but I was tired of clinging onto fragments of hope.

Part of me just wanted to get it over with so I could start adjusting rather than focusing on the small bits I could see. But I also knew I’d regret it if I didn’t make the most of what I had and allow myself some time to grieve properly.

It wasn’t just my sight though. It was hockey. It was the fact that my knee was healing like shit, and I’d just been told I needed another couple of weeks in the brace. It was the conversation I was going to need to have with the organization because I was pretty sure my contract was coming to an early end.

I just didn’t know right now if that was against my will or not.

With a small breath, I turned to the right and tried to remember how far off the little café was where I was supposed to be meeting Amedeo. He was the only one free to pick me up, and I didn’t want to deal with Ubers right after a long appointment.

Now that the playoffs were over and everyone was home—and the respective winning teams were doing their victory laps in the players’ hometowns—things had calmed down.

Tucker, Jonah, and Ford had gone up to Montreal with Bodie, and everyone on my team was at home nursing their wounds. I didn’t want to be a burden on them right now. I knew they’d call me a jackass for thinking that, but in reality, I also didn’t want to keep having conversations about my future in hockey.

Fighting off a small pulse of irritation, I touched the wall to my right with the cane, then started forward, getting ten steps before my phone began to go off in my pocket.

“Thierry calling,” my phone read out.

Fantastic. As if this day couldn’t get any goddamn worse. I had half a mind to send him to voicemail, but if I did that, he’d start texting. Then he’d call again. Then my mom would call and leave a message crying, then Peter would send me passive-aggressive Instagram DMs.

I couldn’t cope with it.

I found a small cement square block with a makeshift bench and flowers in the center, and I sat, letting the sun warm my face as I answered and Thierry’s voice sounded on the line.

“I thought you were ducking my calls.”

“Hello to you too,” I said tiredly. “I just got out of the eye doctor.”