Page 64 of Blood on Ice

Except it was a big deal. I doubted anyone other than Val knew that. I never really expected anyone to pay attention when I talked. “You need me to carry you into the shower?”

Zeke shook his head as he rolled over and pushed himself up to a seated position. “I think I can make it.”

He stood and began to walk on wobbly legs. When he saw me smiling, he flipped me off. “I know you’re loving the effect you have on me.”

“I sure don’t hate it, and the tie is the perfect accent.”

“Fuck off.”

If it could be saved, I was never going to be able to look at that tie without smiling again. Once the bathroom door was shut and the shower was running, I pulled on my boxers and T-shirt and started looking around the room. I wasn’t going to go throughdrawers or anything, but I wanted to see what I could learn by looking at his stuff.

He has a few framed pictures on the top of his dresser, one of him and his mom, one of him and some of his teammates in Vegas, and one of him much younger, also in hockey gear, with a group of guys, probably his high school team.

Otherwise, the room was sparse, just the necessary furniture which I through must have come with the apartment. He hadn’t done too much to personalize it, but I guess he hadn’t been here very long, and he spent most of his time at the rink.

I wandered out into the living room. There was an afghan tossed over the back of the couch. It was a mix of lots of colors, like someone was using up all the bits of yarn they had. I wondered who had made it. His mother? Another relative?

I looked at a bookshelf where he had some trophies next to a few rows of books, including one that looked like family recipes bound together and a few picture books that must’ve been his favorites as a child. The other volumes were mostly horror or thrillers. I pulled one out and started reading the back cover.

The bathroom door opened. I hurriedly put the book back on the shelf, but Zeke was already watching me from the doorway wearing fucking gray sweatpants and a T-shirt. Did he have to look so good? “You move fast.”

“You should see me on skates. Are you snooping around, trying to see what secrets you can find?”

“I’m just looking at things you have out.”

“You can borrow that book if you want to.”

I pulled it back off the shelf. “Is it good?”

He nodded. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“So, you’re a horror fan?”

“I am. What about you? Do mobsters get any time for reading?”

I looked down at my feet. Why the fuck was I embarrassed? “I’ve never really been all that into reading. I read really fucking slowly. Val is the smart one.”

Zeke frowned. “Just because you read slowly doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. Have you tried audiobooks?”

I shook my head. “I just play video games.”

“That’s fine, but if you want any book recommendations, you can get most things on audio, and that might be a lot more fun for you.”

I looked back down at the book I’d pulled from the shelf. “How scary is it?”

Zeke grinned. “Is the big, tough mobster worried he’ll get too scared?”

“No. I just want to know.” So what if scary movies unnerved me, but killing people in real life didn’t. I wasn’t into jump scares, that was all. But a book wouldn’t give me that.

“It’s okay, you know? You’re allowed to be scared of some things.”

“What are you scared of?”

The words hung in the air. I held Zeke’s gaze, and he didn’t look away. Why had I asked that? It was too much, too personal.

He eventually answered. “Losing my place in the NHL.”

“Yeah, I get that. I don’t like jump scares. I can handle it if I’m armed and ready to defend myself but… My mom had a boyfriend for a while, and he yelled a lot. Sometimes in the middle of the night, and it would startle me awake. I just don’t like that.”

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