by Lynn Rush
“It’s not that. It’s—”
“Who do you think pays for that decked-out car of yours? Keeps your credit cards open? Provides a roof over your head any kid would dream of having?”
“You can have it all back. If it means you’d be around more, you can take it all away. You’re never here. Caleb is always asking when you’re coming home.”
Dad huffed.
“He misses you. So do I. And then you let all the staff go and I find mail like this in our box? What the hell is going on?”
He stepped away but stumbled to the side enough that he had to grip the counter. I thought maybe something was on the floor there, but when I rounded the corner of the breakfast bar, there wasn’t.
And then the stench of alcohol swarmed around me. I recognized that smell from parties, and it’d always made my stomach clench. Sure, I’d drank before, but after losing Mom to a drunk driver…I never touched the stuff again.
Dad, he had the opposite reaction. He drank all the time.
“Are you drunk?” I didn’t see any bottles or anything on the kitchen counters or table behind him. “Who was that on the phone?”
“None of your business.” He stumbled away toward the living room, which led to the hallway to his master bedroom.
“Dad.” My voice ricocheted off the vaulted ceilings, and he stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “Please.”
His shoulders slouched.
I gulped through the fear preventing me from saying what I wanted to say. What I needed to say. “We lost Mom already.” Tears burned my eyes. “We…we can’t lose you, too. We need you.”
“No, you don’t,” he whispered, still showing me his back. “You’re better off without me.”
“Don’t say that. Of course we—”
“I have to go. California.” He stood straight again and coughed. “Business.”
“Dad. Wait—”
He stomped off and disappeared around the corner. A few seconds later, I heard the door to his room slam shut.
Silence.
He hadn’t told me what was happening, but it was bad. I felt it in my stomach. Final notice mail. Dad drinking. Firing the staff.
The walls of the spacious kitchen closed in on me. Suffocating. It suddenly felt like Boston College and playing hockey for them was somehow slipping through my fingers. I mean, who would take care of Caleb? If we were getting final notices, who would pay for it?
Unless I scored a full ride. But am I good enough?
I flopped onto the couch and let the tears fall. The first tears since Mom’s funeral.
Only I wasn’t sure I’d ever get them to stop.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Willow
JESSA: I still can’t believe you kissed him!
JESSA: In front of me and your dad!
ME: I know…
ME: Talk about humiliating.
ME: Thanks for not freaking out on me.
JESSA: Not going to lie, it was surprising!
ME: I wanted to tell you about the park, how I was feeling about Brodie, and everything else in between.
ME: I just didn’t know how to do it.
ME: I’m so sorry!
ME: Do you forgive me?
JESSA: Of course!
JESSA: I thought something was going on before you laid one on him in the hospital…but I knew that you’d tell me once you were ready.
ME: You really are the best! Do you know that?
JESSA: Duh!
JESSA: ((wink emoji))
JESSA: You’re my best friend.
ME: And thank you for keeping it between us…for now.
JESSA: I totally get it, and don’t worry, my lips are sealed.
JESSA: ((three heart emojis))
JESSA: Love you!
ME: Love you, too!
I felt so much better after telling Jessa. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I really was lucky.
My thoughts floated back to the hospital scene when I kissed Brodie. Sure, it might have been a loopy kiss, and I only vaguely remembered it, but it’d happened. We’d made it six weeks without kissing. We’d stayed focused on our sports. Trained hard. Hell, pushing the limits on my training was the only thing that kept me from throwing my goalie gear in the net and jumping on him during practice.
My thoughts were interrupted by a new slew of texts from Ericka.
ERICKA: Hey, babe!
ERICKA: Was just thinking about you…
ERICKA: How’s everything going?
I’d called Ericka the day after I kissed Brodie. She’d been super supportive. Between her and Jessa, I’d struck the best friend gold mine.
ME: Pretty good!
ME: More importantly, how are you feeling?
ERICKA: A little better each day.
ERICKA: But not fast enough.
ERICKA: Six weeks off my feet is killing me!
ME: I know. It’s horrible! ((sad face emoji))
ERICKA: How’d you get through it with your injury?
ME: You helped!
ME: ((heart emoji))
ME: Lots of crying, focusing on healing thoughts.
ME: And did I mention you?
ERICKA: I wish you were here.
ME: Me, too. Love you, girl! Stay strong. You’ll get through this!
ERICKA: Hey, Mom’s calling for me.
ERICKA: Gotta go!
ERICKA: Good luck at the game tonight!
ME: Thanks! Give Mom a hug!
I set my phone down, but it buzzed again just as I did.
BRODIE: Can you talk?
ME: Sure. What’s up?
BRODIE: Come outside.
BRODIE: I’m in your driveway.
Holy shit. My heart thudded, then stuttered into a full-on pounding. I rolled off my bed, my mind whirling. The championship game didn’t start for a few hours, so what was he doing here?
ME: On my way!
I threw on a stocking cap and hoodie and jammed my feet into my boots.
“Dad, Brodie stopped by quick. Be right back,” I yelled as I bolted out the front door.
There was his black Tahoe, sitting between the small snowbanks that lined our driveway. The sun shone bright, searing my eyes, so I shaded them. I couldn’t see very well through the tinted windows, so I just went to the passenger side and pulled it open.
“Hey!” I said, jumping into the seat. My cheek throbbed with the quick movement, reminding me to take it easy.
Brodie twisted in his seat and turned toward me, his eyes swollen and bloodshot.
“Oh my gosh. What’s wrong?” My heart leaped into my throat as I grabbed his shoulder.
“Can we go to the park? Do you have time?” he asked, his voice low and trembling.
“Sure.” I sent my dad a quick text and then grabbed the seat belt and clicked it in. “Are you okay? Is Caleb okay?” I reached over the console and grabbed his free hand.
He nodded as he maneuvered the car onto the street. “My dad freaked on me. I—I’m not sure what to do.”
By the time we’d pulled into the lot at the park he’d taken me to that night of HOCO, when Ericka had been in her accident, he’d painted a word picture of what went down with him and his dad that made me cringe.
“He really said you’d be better without him?”
Brodie put the car in park and then scrubbed his face with both his hands. “I didn’t know what to do. Or where to go.” He swallowed hard, then nailed me with a gaze. “All I could think was that I needed to see you.”
“Brodie,” I said as I grabbed his hand again.
His skin was warm and clammy, his chest heaved, and fresh tears lined his beautiful brown eyes. I wasn’t sure what to say. So I cupped his c
heek and brushed my thumb below his left eye.
He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes briefly. My heart started pounding at the realization that here was this amazing guy, sitting before me, who was sweet, sensitive, and so very loyal. He was strong and an amazing athlete, but he had to carry so much on those broad shoulders of his. Way more than a seventeen-year-old should.
“Brodie.” I pulled him into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“I…I don’t want to stay away from you anymore, Willow.” He buried his face in my hair and drew in a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you.”
I felt the same way. My feelings for Brodie had been growing. I constantly thought about him. We texted and talked a lot on the phone. When we weren’t, I found myself wondering what he was doing, worrying about him and Caleb, and hoping his dad could get his life together so they could be a family again. It was like my brain had been taken over by this adorable Puck Head.
“But the rule—”
“Fuck the rules.” He eased back, then rested his forehead against mine. “Remember that night at the swings, what I said about not taking anything for granted? How things can change on a dime?”
I nodded. We both knew that pretty well, considering my injury and his mom dying.
Being this close to him, his scent swirled around me, tickling my stomach like it always did. But what he was saying…could cause trouble on the hockey team. And I knew for sure it would change our relationship forever. It could possibly ruin the friendship we’d been building since I first met him in August.
But here he was, asking me to do this. Being vulnerable with me. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, either, no matter what I’d tried. It was the end of November, and if one of the coaches I’d sent my videos to picked me up for their training team, I’d be out of here by January.
My time here in Woodhaven was limited—and I wanted to spend it with him.
“Say something,” he whispered, his warm breath washing over me.
“Yes.” I kissed him and then leaned back, heat flushing to my chest. “Yes.”
He curled his fingers around the nape of my neck, cradling me so tenderly, it sent a wave of heat straight to my abdomen. He claimed my lips with an urgent need. Still, it was gentle but filled with emotion. Heat.
And he was right. Rules be damned.
…
Tied at zero. We had two minutes to do something or we’d get thrown into overtime.
The kiss Brodie and I shared in his car and our agreement to secretly date flashed through my mind. It sent shivers down my spine.
Focus, Willow!
You can think about Brodie after Woodhaven wins the game.
I bent my knees and smacked my stick against the ice. “Come on, Preach.”
He took a shot, and it deflected off the goal. The crowd gasped.
“Let’s go! Come on, guys!”
The other team’s center charged the puck. Teddy threw his shoulder into him, but he raised an elbow and shoved Teddy onto his ass. That wasn’t an easy feat, either, considering Teddy’s size.
The center advanced on me. I gulped through the adrenaline rush nearly choking me and gripped my stick.
He crossed the centerline, ice spraying from under his skates. Eric attacked the puck. Sticks clashed, but it didn’t stop him. He laid Eric out flat.
The space between us closed.
Less than ten feet.
The unstoppable center brought back his stick and slapped with a deafening thwack.
It felt like time stopped as the puck flew through the air. I could almost count the rotations as my eyes focused on the vulcanized black disc. Dropping to the ice, my knees pressed together, I held out my glove and said a silent prayer to the hockey gods.
The puck hit my glove with such power, it moved my hand back several inches. Digging my skates into the ice, I leaned into the momentum and forced my glove forward as a scream burned its way through my throat.
No way was he going to score.
Not on my watch.
Push it, Willow!
Finally breaking through the momentum, I fell forward, the puck safely tucked in my glove.
I’d done it. I’d stopped it. I might have broken my fingertips, but it was worth it.
People leaped to their feet, cheering and punching the air.
In front of me, the center stood with his mouth agape. His blue mouth guard hanging low, he tapped his stick on the ice and dipped his head at me, a major sign of respect in hockey. Pride swelled deep in my chest.
With only twenty-seven seconds left on the clock, I passed the puck to Brodie. “Get a goal already, would ya?”
“Nice stop, Toe Pick.” Our eyes locked for a moment, and he winked, then he charged forward. He glided across the ice with a grace and power that few possessed.
My heart hammered at each push of his skates, each shift in direction as he charged.
Twelve seconds.
Brodie passed to Preach, who wove around a defender. Preach hoisted the puck, avoiding the steal, then back-passed it to Brodie.
And then he charged the goal in typical Brodie “Wind” Windom fashion.
Three seconds.
Brodie dodged a check, spun, and set himself for the shot.
“Yes,” I yelled. “Come on, Brodie.”
In one swift motion, he hit the puck with such force that I thought his stick had broken.
The goalie dropped to his knees, but he was too late. The puck slammed into the back of the net with such force that it bounced back out and landed in front of the goalie.
The buzzer sounded.
The crowd erupted with cheers and applause. I slid my mask off, careful not to hit my stitches.
I snapped my head to the right, to where I’d seen Gramps sit down before the game had started. He stood there, waving maroon and silver pom-poms.
Grinning, I waved back with both arms as I coasted toward the team.
“Oh my gosh. No way!” I said. Next to him stood my dad. He was still in his work uniform, which meant he must have found someone to cover the second half of his shift. He normally had Sundays off but was asked to come in today to cover for someone who’d called in sick. He waved at me and smiled.
Pride burst through my veins as I joined the guys.
Eric wacked Brodie on the back and held up the puck.
“You did it, Willow.” Preach pointed at me, then he and Teddy skated toward the group of players.
Brodie looked over at me and nodded. “We won!”
The cheers were almost deafening.
Eric rammed into my shoulder and shoved Brodie into the group. “That goal was freaking epic!”
My cheek ached from smiling. We’d won the tournament! I pumped my stick in the air as I followed the team to the player’s box.
“Nice job, Willow. Excellent goal, Brodie.” Coach patted us both on the back. “I know we usually pick one MVP per game, but you both get to split the honor tonight.”
“Thank you, Coach!” All the extra practices and training with Brodie on and off the rink had paid off.
Clutching the puck to my chest, I held it there until Coach told us to head to the locker rooms. Talk about an amazing day. First, Brodie and I decide to start up dating in secret. Then this epic win and MVP honor…
I touched my hockey puck to Brodie’s as we started making our way off the ice.
He grinned and brushed his mitted hand against mine. My stomach clenched as if his bare skin were touching mine.
Brodie and I brought up the rear of the team gliding across the ice to the exit. Just as we stepped off the ice, I felt a tug on my jersey. I turned around, Brodie by my side, to see what was up.
“Willow!” a little girl with curly brown hair exclaimed. “Will you and Brodie
please sign my puck?”
She thrust a gold permanent marker and a puck into my hand. My cheeks flushed as I reached for the offerings with shaky fingers. I’d signed plenty of autographs while figure skating, but for hockey?
If the girls on the skating team could see me now. I was sporting a nice war wound on my cheek, I was decked out in goalie gear and playing hockey, and now I was signing an autograph!
“We’ll catch up with you all in a few minutes,” Brodie shouted to the team.
I scribbled my signature on the top of the puck and handed it to Brodie to do the same. “Do you play hockey?” I asked her.
“Squirt League. I wanna be like you!”
I ruffled her hair and smiled. “Then you will be! Keep at it.”
“Here you go.” Brodie put the top back on the marker and handed it to the little girl.
Her grin, missing her two front teeth, was absolutely adorable.
“Thank you so much,” she squealed as she clutched the puck and held it up to her chest. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Absolutely.”
I figured she’d want to know what it was like playing on a guy’s hockey team, but instead she blurted out, “Are you two boyfriend/girlfriend?”
Two hours into our secret relationship, and we’d already been outed. Were we really that obvious?
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Brodie
The thunk of the lights clicking on and warming up rattled through the empty arena.
I drew in a deep breath of the cool air and closed my eyes. I loved coming here before the hustle of everything filled the place. And I loved it even more now that it included Willow Covington. Meeting her here for practice had become the highlight of each morning.
The only tricky part had been finding someone to come over to the house at five o’clock in the morning to watch over Caleb and help get him to school. Thank God for babysitting services that took credit cards.
The lights had warmed up enough that I started making my way between the bleachers to the rink, clutching my bag close to me. I slid over the ice, heading to the team bench, when I heard a door creak. I dropped my bag on the bench and leaned over the short wall.