by Cindi Madsen
“Are they still fighting?” I held my breath for the answer. My parents had been together a long time, and while they’d argued plenty over the years, I hadn’t ever seen them scream at each other the way they’d done over Christmas break.
Mom had cried about how little there was under the tree, even though we all assured her we had plenty, and then Dad told her he was sorry that he couldn’t provide for her the way he used to. I wasn’t sure how it’d escalated so quickly, but the next thing I knew they were shouting at each other.
“Not as bad as over Christmas,” Cassidy said, “but yeah. Mom’s taking extra shifts, and I think it’s as much to avoid Dad as it is about money.”
Guilt rose up. I’d been in such a hurry to get back to Boston, away from their stress and the possibility of running into Jazmine again—seeing her and how rough she’d looked had thrown me for a loop. I’d known it was bad, but at the same time, I had no idea.
I told myself that I was doing the only thing I could to help them financially—giving my all at a chance to go pro while working on a fallback education if I failed. School had never been my thing, but I did what I had to do to play. Take away that, and I wasn’t sure I’d be qualified for much more than a paper-pushing desk job, which was about my absolute worst nightmare. When I realized that last semester, during my shitty-revelations-about-myself black hole, I’d decided to switch my major to Kinesiology, in the hopes that if I couldn’t play hockey, I could be involved with it in another capacity, either coaching or training, or even physical therapy.
If I thought I could hold a job with school and hockey, I would do that to help out, too, but I could hardly keep up as it was. “I’ll call Lissa. Have a talk with her first and then go from there.”
“Thanks.” Cassidy’s relief carried over the line. “She’s always listened to you, so please, please talk some sense into her. I can handle everything else if you can take care of that.”
I knew what it was like to be the oldest and attempt to pick up the slack left from overworked parents and a lot of kids. I probably should’ve warned her, but it wouldn’t change much. It’s not something you’re ever ready for, so I’d tried to give her as much of a childhood as I could when I’d been at home.
But if it would make Cassidy’s life easier, I’d suck it up and call Jazmine. I was just really hoping it didn’t come to that.
Chapter Nine
Megan
Dane never called for math help, which didn’t really surprise me, even though I was still disappointed. I mean, he could’ve at least used the excuse of math to hang out. I’d been so sure he felt the same spark I had—that he’d crack.
Thanks to a week of only a couple of hours of sleep a night, I’d had way too much time to overanalyze it and replay all our moments together, too. You’d think eventually my body would give up the fight and decide to sleep. In desperation, I’d almost resorted to pills, but I knew it’d only throw off my sleep for the rest of the week, and with college classes, I couldn’t afford to be groggy. Or worse, sleep through my alarm.
By the time I made it to Kelly Rink on Saturday night, my limbs dragged and my eyes burned. Since the nap I attempted earlier failed to take, I’d answered Lyla’s text about going to the game with her and Whitney, and told her I’d meet them there.
After all, my brother was on the team, and I loved hockey. I wasn’t going to give up cheering for the home team and my brother just because it meant seeing Dane, which would probably only reiterate we were doomed to go nowhere.
My limbs dragged a bit more as that thought settled in.
As soon as I found Lyla and Whitney, excitement bubbled up, taking away the crappy feelings and reminding me how awesome my life was right now. I could attend games without having to fight my aunt first, and the freedom I’d craved for so long made everything rosier.
“This is the only team that’s beat them this season, right?” I asked Lyla as I sat in a maroon plastic chair.
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Yeah. It came down to overtime last time, and they’re hoping to avoid that this game and just beat them.”
The game started, the loud buzz piercing the air, and right away the other team scored.
“Damn it.” Whitney scribbled in the open notebook on her lap.
My chair squeaked as I shifted forward. “You write down what happens in the games?”
“Yeah, I cover them for the Heights.” She explained how it started as an assignment she originally took on as a front for another piece, but that she learned to enjoy sports writing, and did it in addition to other interest articles for the paper.
Dane got a fast break and I gripped the armrests of my seat. He passed to Hudson, who passed to Beckett. Hudson then set a pick for Dane, who cut to the middle. With Dane now wide open, Beckett passed to him, and he shot.
A sense of pride filled me as the red lights flashed, signaling a point for us, and I told myself not to get carried away. I didn’t do anything to help them score, and while I was proud of Dane, he was only… Could I even call him a friend? Were we even that?
I need to start focusing on my other checklist items to help distract myself from thinking about how perfect he’d be for number five if he’d just change his mind on the relationship thing.
I knew just the one, too.
4. Discover all the best places to go in Boston
Exploring the city should keep me plenty occupied and help break up the days and nights better. Sure, having someone to go with would be nice, but if I had to do it on my own, I would. I wasn’t some helpless, fragile girl who needed constant companionship. In fact, it’d be a good way to hit another list item and make more friends. A two-for-one type deal, always a bonus.
A few minutes before the end of the first period, Lyla turned to me. “I keep meaning to ask how things are going with your roommate.”
“We get along okay, but honestly, we don’t talk much. She’s almost always with Justin, who’s apparently not her boyfriend but her sex buddy. And since we share a bedroom, and I’m a light sleeper…” As much as I wanted to confide in Lyla, I was sure if she knew how little I slept she’d tell Beckett, and he’d go into overprotective mode, and I was trying to prove I was a strong, independent person who didn’t need help. “Anyway, I’ve woken to hooking-up noises way too often. Or I get back to my room to find it ocupado. At least then I can find something else to do instead of pretending I’m still asleep.”
“Ugh, sorry. That’s rough.”
I couldn’t imagine wanting to have sex so badly that I couldn’t wait till my roommate wasn’t in the room, but I supposed the dorm situation didn’t provide many opportunities for that. Having people digging into my family’s life all the time had turned me into someone who craved privacy. “Next year, I’m definitely going to move into an apartment.”
At the loud cheers, I turned my attention to the ice. There was a fast breakaway, Dane and Hudson passing it back and forth again, but this time the shot was blocked by the opposing team’s goalie.
The next play, the other team scored again, and I could tell our boys were getting flustered.
“Not to make this all about us,” Lyla said, biting at her thumbnail. “But if this game doesn’t turn around soon, we’re going to have some grouchy boyfriends to deal with tonight.”
I supposed that should make me happy that Dane and I weren’t a couple. Too bad when I saw him racing across the ice, my body decided to betray me and think about how nice it’d be to be the one to hug him, kiss him, and find new, fun ways to console him. My brain got in on it, too, flooding with snapshots of him grinning and laughing.
My heart skipped a couple of beats, and longing rose up and wound around it, making it clear that claiming any happiness over not being able to call him my boyfriend would only make me a liar.
Chapter Ten
Dane
Shit.
Even though we’d trained hard this week, we looked gassed. Our offense was crumbl
ing, and so was our defense. I missed that last shot—a shot that should’ve been easy—and during time out, Coach lit into us.
“That asshole guarding you is holding,” Hudson said as we skated back onto the ice. “Next time he comes near you, I’ll check him. You take the puck and get it in the fucking net.”
I nodded. Both of us knew Hudson would probably end up in the penalty box afterward, but as long as I scored, it’d be worth it.
We set up the play, and when my defender skated over to try to hold, like he’d been doing all game, Hudson barreled into him. I didn’t look back, simply skated as fast as I could, faked left, then shot…
It soared in, the red lights flashed, and I threw up my hands. When I spun to search for my teammates, I noticed things were about to get ugly between Hudson and the Ohio State defender.
A penalty was one thing, but having Hudson ejected from the game, not to mention next week’s for fighting, was too high a cost for one measly point. I skated over and got in between them. “Bro, it’s not worth it,” I said to Hudson. “Remember?”
As we started away, the guy hooked Hudson’s leg with his stick, sending him crashing to the ice.
Anger ignited and I swung, clocking the prick under the chin. His cheap move had gone unnoticed by the refs.
But mine…? They sure as hell noticed mine.
…
The party at the Quad was supposed to make me feel better, but I still felt like shit. I got ejected from the game for fighting, and in addition to getting my ass chewed by Coach—he didn’t care what the other guy had done, I should have kept my temper, yadda, yadda, yadda—I couldn’t play next game, either. Luckily it was one of the teams we’d spanked earlier in the season, so I was confident the guys would easily win, but nothing was worse than sitting on the sidelines helpless while the rest of your team played.
I should’ve kept my temper. I didn’t usually lose my cool, but usually people weren’t stupid enough to go after Hudson, either.
My best friend handed me a cup filled to the brim with beer. “Sorry again, man. If I hadn’t taunted him—”
“Like I said before, it’s not your fault. I just lost it.”
“I know, and that’s unlike you.” Hudson took a sip from his cup. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Did something happen when you went home?”
Of course he’d pick up on it—we grew up in the same neighborhood in the Bronx, my house a couple of streets down from the apartment complex he and his mom lived in. Truth was, I’d been on edge all week thanks to everything back home. Lissa hadn’t answered my calls, or bothered to call me back, despite the voicemails I’d left, and it was looking more and more like I’d need to try things from the Jazmine angle.
All I’d need to do was mention my ex’s name for Hudson to get part of the story. The three of us had grown up together, although he and she had always clashed—he’d wanted me to breakup with her before we’d started college, and sometimes I wondered if I had, if everything would’ve worked out differently in the end.
If she’d be better or worse for it. If I would be. I might have to deal with less of one type of guilt, but no doubt the other type would always be there.
But bringing up her name, and even talking about my worry over Lissa with Hudson would just dredge up the past, and I didn’t want to deal with it right now. “Just regular crap. You know how it is.”
“Yeah. If Whitney hadn’t gone home with me, I never would’ve survived.”
I glanced around for his girlfriend. “Is she here?” As much as I liked Whitney, I was more interested in if Megan might be with her and Lyla—I’d seen them seated together at the game. That was the other thing about sitting on the bench. You had way too much time to look around at the crowd and notice the girl you shouldn’t be checking out looked extra hot tonight.
Before he could answer, Whitney walked up and wrapped her arm around his waist, which was answer enough.
“I’m going to go play some beer pong or flip cup—whatever gets me drunk the fastest.” If any night called for throwing caution and stupid goals to the wind, tonight did.
Hudson stopped me with a hand on my chest. “Take it easy.”
This was an unexpected role reversal, but right now, I didn’t care. I wanted to drown out everything, and it wasn’t like I’d be suiting up next game. With literally nothing going for me at the moment, I might as well take advantage.
In the middle of the beer pong game, right at the point I was missing a lot thanks to alcohol-induced double vision, Misty came over and perched herself on my lap. She kissed my neck as she ran her hand down my chest, and the attraction I didn’t usually have for her flickered. Weak, and definitely lacking compared to a certain blonde I was having a helluva time not thinking about, but for one night, I thought a flicker might be enough.
I’d punished myself for the past few months, and right now, I couldn’t clearly recall why. But surely months of celibacy was punishment enough for whatever, right? Besides, Misty wouldn’t expect phone calls and flowers afterward. We’d both walk away happy, and maybe that’d jumpstart my ability to get past all the old shit that kept coming back to haunt me.
It’d also make it a hell of a lot easier to deal with the guilt trip Jazmine would throw my way when and if I had to call.
So I stopped playing defense with Misty and switched to offense, curling my arm around her waist. “You want to go next?” I asked, offering her the white Ping-Pong ball.
She shook her head and placed her hand high on my thigh. “I just want to go.”
Chapter Eleven
Megan
Dane and I hadn’t spoken much the past few classes. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part, but after so many one-word responses and grunts and what with the fact that he moved to a desk in the back of the room, I’d given up.
But as we walked out, I caught a glimpse of his quiz and the big fat D at the top of it.
“It was a tough quiz,” I said. He glanced down, frowned, then crumpled up the paper and shoved it into his backpack. “Dane, come on. There’s a test coming up, and you could obviously use a study buddy.”
“I don’t have time for a study buddy right now.”
I turned and placed my hand flat on his chest. “What you don’t have time for is failing a class.” I always hated when people asked if I didn’t feel well thanks to the bags that formed under my eyes after a few sleepless nights in a row, but Dane looked like crap. Cute crap, but still. “Are you sleeping at all?”
“I’m…” He looked down at me, blinked a couple of times, and finally it seemed like he saw me instead of through me. “Not much.”
“Let me help you,” I said, trying to focus through the attraction zipping through me at the feel of his firm pecs and his steady heartbeat under my palm. “I got the message about your stance on relationships, and I’m not going to turn into some clingy girl, I swear.”
He flinched, which seemed like an odd reaction, but instead of analyzing that, I powered through with my point. “But we can be friends, right?”
He pressed his lips together, and I fought the urge to reach up and run my hand down the side of his face. So there was longing, avoiding-clinginess vow or not. “Friends. Sure. I suppose we can be friends.” He ran his hand through his hair, and the dark strands immediately fell forward again.
The exhausted, defeated vibe radiating off him made a dull ache form in my chest. “At least late-night friends. The way I see it, since neither one of us is sleeping, we might as well not sleep together.”
A crooked half smile slanted his mouth, a hint of the Dane I recognized showing through the stress. “How about, if you find yourself having trouble sleeping and in need of a partner for your math homework, or even just in need of a good meal, you find me at the diner?”
A fuzzy lightness rushed through me, and I worked to control my voice so it wouldn’t come out in an excited squeak. “Tonight?”
He no
dded. “If that works. Any night, really, though. I’ve been there most of them.”
“I’ll see you tonight, then.”
…
As I walked up the wide aisle of the diner, I picked up a sweetener packet from an empty table. I pinched it between my fingers and flicked it.
For once in my life, my aim was on, and the pink packet hit Dane in the back of the head.
He spun around, and the slow smile that spread across his face made my heartbeat pick up its pace. “Hey.”
How could one word turn me into a puddle of a girl? I sat in the booth next to him, bumping my hip into his. “Scooch over.”
He scooted—a little too far—but it gave me plenty of room for my books. Only the second after I set them down in front of me, Dane pushed them to the other side of the table. When I shot him a look, he said, “We have to eat first. I’ll never be able to study on an empty stomach.”
He glanced back and lifted his hand, and Larry rounded the corner, coffee pot in hand.
“So glad you’re back.” Larry filled a mug for me, then topped off Dane’s. “You ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?”
All day I’d been thinking about French toast, so I rattled off my order, and Dane said he’d have the usual.
“There’s something cool about saying ‘I’ll have the usual,’” I said. “I think I need a usual.”
One corner of Dane’s mouth kicked up. “The last thing I’d call you is usual.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“Good. It was one.” He reached out and flicked my earring. The thin chains rattled together and the mini spikes on the end swept across my neck, still cold from being outside.
We didn’t talk much as we ate. I wanted to bring up the game and ask him what had happened, but I was sure it was a sore topic. So once I finished eating, I pushed my plate aside and moved to his other sore topic.