“Cope,” I greeted.
He grinned, but there was a heaviness beneath it. Something that told me his existence wasn’t all sunshine and roses, even with his hockey-star status. Or maybe it was just the knowledge of what he had lost.
The grin slipped a little. “You okay, Warrior?”
“What’s with the nickname?” I asked, trying to change the subject and not wanting to know if he could see all the ways I was fracturing.
One corner of his mouth picked back up again. When it did, I saw that he had his own faint scar there. “Can’t tell me you’re notdetermined to fight all your own battles,” Cope said, the smile falling again. “But you look exhausted.”
That stung my pride. Apparently, my expertly applied concealer wasn’t doing its job today. “Is that a nice way of saying I look like shit?”
I expected Cope to panic, get flustered, apologize. Any of those responses. But he just stared at me, one eyebrow slightly cocked. “Do I look like an idiot?”
“Not sure you want me to answer that, Hotshot.”
“Definitely a warrior. She’s not afraid to level the death blow,” Cope muttered, amusement lacing his tone. “I may miss a lot of things, but one of those will never be how fucking gorgeous you are. Doesn’t matter if you’re covered in grease or flour or have dark circles you’re drowning in. None of it will take away an ounce of your beauty.”
My jaw went slack as I gaped at Cope. I didn’t have much dating experience. I’d gotten together with Roman my first year of college and had been on a total of three dates since we’d split. But even with my minimal experience, I’d gotten used to one thing. Game playing.
The tactics and strategies differed from guy to guy, but the arena was the same. And it was exhausting. But here Cope was, shooting straight and to the point.
“I, uh?—”
“Mom!” Luca called, waddling toward me in his gear and skates, his face scrunched. “My skates feel too tight.”
Panic shot through me as I felt the blood drain from my face. If Luca had outgrown his skates overnight, I didn’t have a solution. My emergency fund was gone, and my rent on both properties had increased. I was running on fumes.
Cope’s gaze moved from Luca to me and stayed on my face for a bit. “Hey, Speedy. Can I take a look?”
Luca looked up at his idol and beamed, then nodded. “Sure, Coach Reaper.”
Cope grinned and instantly crouched, dropping his bag onto the floor. His fingers moved deftly around Luca’s skates and laces before he glanced up at me. “You using waxed laces for his skates?”
My brow furrowed. “Um, I’m not sure. They came with a freshset, and I put those on.” I’d watched three YouTube videos first to make sure I was doing it right. I just hoped the secondhand store hadn’t given me the wrong laces.
Cope quickly untied the skate and rubbed the lace between his fingers. “Waxed.”
“Is that bad?” I asked, worrying my bottom lip.
“Not at all,” Cope assured me. “But it gives the skate a tighter feel, more rigid.” He looked at Luca. “Are you used to skating in the rentals from here?”
Luca nodded. “Mom got me these right before camp.”
“Bingo,” Cope said with a grin. “They use cloth laces for the rentals. It gives the skate a little more flexibility. I grew up skating with cloth and switched to waxed in high school.”
Luca tugged his lip between his teeth, a move I knew he’d learned from me. “You use waxed now?”
Cope nodded. “I don’t want my skates having too much give on the ice.”
“I can keep the wax ones,” Luca said quickly.
Cope chuckled and moved to unzip his bag. “There’s plenty of time for that. Let’s switch you to cloth for now. You don’t want blisters to keep you from skating.”
“No,” Luca agreed begrudgingly.
Cope pulled a set of white laces from his bag.
“You don’t have to do that,” I started.
