“Not all the time,” I continue. “There are a lot of days where I’m still uncomfortable in my skin, but that used to be every day. That’s not the case anymore.”
He moves the mess I like to call my morning hair away from my face. “Progress, Vee.”
“Progress,” I agree.
“One day, I hope you can fully appreciate the body you’re living in because, sweetheart, it’s smoking hot, and my dick has never been happier.”
“Jesus.” I fall back with a laugh. “You’re the worst.”
“You’re obsessed with me. Admit it.” He covers my neck and cheek with kisses. “Hey, I’m getting a new number, so I’ll text you with it later, okay?”
“Because of your mom?”
Zanders’ expression goes blank and rigid before he nods in agreement.
“Do you want to talk about yesterday?”
“Not really, no.”
I shoot him an understanding smile. “Okay.”
Zanders hesitates, searching my face before taking a deep breath. “I had a panic attack because I was so angry with her for everything. For calling me, for leaving me when I was a teenager, for trying to come back into my life because of my paychecks. I don’t have them often, but if I get really upset and I can’t think straight, sometimes I fall into them.”
I keep my arms wrapped around his neck.
“Does that freak you out?” he cautiously asks. “Maybe I should chill out on telling you absolutely everything. That’s a lot to put on you.”
My brows crease in confusion. “What? No, of course not. I think it’s probably the most attractive thing about you, your openness towards your mental health.”
“More attractive than my smoking hot bod, or, as you moaned multiple times last night, my award-winning dick?” His smile could not be more smug.
“Almost as attractive as your humble personality,” I deadpan. “And your mom is the absolute worst, Zee.”
“So is yours.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Look at us,” I tease. “Trauma-bonding.”
His body shakes below mine in a silent laugh. “Yesterday, I realized I think I’m mad at her for hurting my dad, and to be honest, I’ve never thought about it from his perspective before.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Not since Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still angry with him, but not as angry as I thought. I’ve been selfish, thinking it was only me who got hurt when it was his wife who left him too. I’m confused about how I feel even as I say it.”
I lightly scratch the skin under his tightly faded haircut. “Progress,” I repeat his earlier words.
His hazel eyes shine in understanding. “Progress.”
He hides his face in my neck. “What do you think about maybe coming to my games?”
“Zee,” I tease, pulling his face away and making him look at me. “So official. Are you asking me to go steady?”
“Yes.” He pops a kiss on my lips.
“Do you really think that’s the best idea? I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve never had someone to come cheer for me besides my sister, and it could be nice.”
Understanding floods me. “Then I’ll be there.”
“Yeah?” He beams with hope.
“Yeah, but I need to sit away from the ice where no cameras could catch me in the background. We need to be smart about this.”
“Okay.” His smile is giddy and childish, his perfect teeth unable to hide. “I’ve never had someone to give my season tickets to. I’ll make sure they’re away from the ice. You just make sure your sexy ass is wearing my jersey.”
“Eh, I don’t know about that. I was thinking about rocking number thirty-eight.”
“Rio? Fuck no! You’re only allowed to wear number eleven.”
“Bossy.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” His laugh is dark and condescending as he picks me up, carrying me back to his room. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Eleven is just such a boring number.”
“You’re asking for it now, Stevie girl.” He tosses me on his bed. “Besides, nothing boring about being number one twice. Why do you think I picked it?”
An understanding laugh flows through me. “It’s all making sense.”
He lies down on the bed, patting the mattress next to his face. “Come here. Put your knees on either side of my head and sit right here.” A single index finger bounces against his lips.