Under a Different Sky

by Iler, Lindsey

  “Yeah, that’s awesome, man.” I offer my fist, and he touches his to mine.

  “Well, while we’re confessing...” Nicole giggles. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her nervous. “Mia is the reason why we’re together.” She looks at Kellan and smiles. “I told her how I felt. It didn’t feel right, you know, sitting with her and not telling her I was falling for her brother.”

  Fuck! I need a distraction from their happiness.

  “What about you, Hannah? Anything you’d like to confess?” I look beside me. Her hands are tightly wound together, squeezing each other.

  She glances up and shakes her head like she’s been day dreaming. “I’m sorry, what?”

  Her eyes lock on mine. “Any Mia confessions?”

  “No confessions.” She shrugs, and when the waitress comes to deliver our food and drinks, she couldn’t look more relieved.

  After we eat, we part ways. Kellan looks far too excited to get Nicole alone. We do us all a favor by heading out when we do. They look one minute away from dry humping each other right in the booth.

  I toss the keys to Hannah. “You want to drive?”

  “Hell yeah, I want to drive.” She unlocks the doors, and we get inside. Her excitement over something as simple as driving my truck has me wishing I could always do something like this for her.

  Like a pro, once again, Hannah pulls out of the parking lot and navigates the stick shift like she’s been doing it her entire life.

  “Before I went to wash my hands, you seemed off a little bit,” I blurt. Fuck. Why did I even say that?

  I’ve spent the last three months avoiding anything personal, and suddenly, I want Hannah to open up to me like I’m her damn diary.

  Chapter Three

  Hannah

  If he would stop looking at me like I’m hiding something, that would be great.

  The roads are damn near empty, and I roll down the window a bit to get a breeze on my face. The cool air is a good distraction for the heat creeping up the back of my neck being under Nick’s steady stare.

  The lights outside my neighborhood illuminate the street as I pull in.

  “How did I not know you lived here?” Nick asks, unbuckling his seat belt and sitting forward.

  “Probably because we aren’t really friends.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  Is he really going to argue with me about this, like I’ve completely forgotten how often he bitched when Mia insisted I hang out with them? I didn’t like it as much as he did, but you don’t say no to Mia. It’s funny to think we once had been close friends.

  “No, we’re not.” I laugh, killing the engine and facing him. “We have mutual friends. Mia is, uh, was our link.”

  “Maybe she still is.” He shrugs.

  Something so simple passes between us. I just don’t know what it is.

  “Yeah, maybe.” I glance at his mangled knuckles. They were a bloody mess earlier, all torn skin and bruises. “Come inside super quick. We’ll get that cleaned up.”

  He tucks them away like doing so will make me un-see the damage. “No need.”

  “Do you have peroxide or antibacterial ointment at home?” I ask.

  “Why would I know that?” he scoffs.

  “Exactly what I mean. Let me clean them up, or else you’ll get an infection and won’t be able to hold onto your stick. Lord knows, we don’t want that to happen. My dad’ll kill me.” I get out and cross my fingers he’ll follow me inside.

  My dad has been the high school hockey coach for ten years. He could’ve gone pro but said he didn’t have the heart. It wasn’t in his blood like it is for most players. So, instead, he settles, although he’ll never call it that, on coaching. He’s never once acted unsatisfied with his choices. After all, he did get me out of the deal. He claims he wouldn’t have met my mom if he hadn’t made that decision. She, on the other hand, believes no matter where he’d ended up, she’d have found him.

  “Where are you taking me?” Nick follows me through the backyard.

  “Like I’m going to bring your ass through the front door. My dad’s probably sitting in the living room, watching game reels.” I glance at him over my shoulder. “You think he’d be happy to see you got into a fight?”

  “Good idea.”

  I’ve never snuck anyone into my house before. There was that time Mia got plastered and couldn’t go home, so I’d texted her parents and managed to get her inside without my parents noticing how drunk she was. Mia. Even after three months, it’s still hard to think about her.

  “What are you doing? It’s chilly out here.” Nick pushes on my back, and I’m pulled from my own memories.

  “Sorry.” I tug on the sliding door, but it doesn’t budge. “What the hell? This is never locked.” I search the ledge above the door and find the key, showing it to Nick. He does this half smile that I’ve never seen him do.

  Once we’re inside, I go up the stairs and find my dad exactly where I thought he’d be, on the couch watching film. I wave Nick on, and he rushes past me, quiet as a mouse. It’s no surprise, he’s quick on his feet, on and off the ice.

  Once the coast is clear, I lean over the couch and kiss my dad on the cheek. “I’m home. Goodnight.”

  “Tell that boy to get out of my house, Hannah,” he says, his words laced with laughter.

  Does he really know Nick is here, or is he messing with me?

  “What are you talking about?” I stand behind him, my eyes wide with worry.

  “Nick Kovac is upstairs. Tell that boy I know what his cologne smells like, since he likes to stink up my locker room.” He tilts his head back and looks up at me.

  “Hey, Coach Barnes,” Nick calls from the top of the steps.

  I can’t hold it back and start laughing, the kind of laugh that makes everyone stop and listen. My dad shifts on the couch and grips my hand.

  “We were just going to watch a movie.”

  “So, you thought it would be better to sneak him in my house instead of just saying that?” His eyebrows perk up, daring me to lie again.

  “You’re right. Sorry, but would it be okay?” I bat my eyelashes, knowing he’ll never be able to say no to me.

  “Door open. If I walk up those steps and see it closed, I’ll work his ass over twice on the ice tomorrow,” my dad threatens, angling his stare up the stairs.

  “Nothing to worry about here, Coach,” Nick tries to clarify.

  “I was seventeen once, son. I know what I need to worry about.” He chuckles. “How are your parents, Nick?”

  “They’re good.” Nick comes down one step, and I cringe. “Are you watching film from last year’s game against the Panthers?”

  “I am. You want to watch?” My father peers around me at Nick entering the living room, bloody knuckles and all.

  “Hell yeah.” Nick sits down on the couch opposite my dad. “This was a tough game.”

  “It was tough because you guys looked sloppy. I’m not going to let that happen this year. We need to tighten up, start playing as a team and a little less like individual parts.”

  Hockey talk is something that never ends in this house. Dad is loving Nick being here to chat because Mom and I tend to just nod our heads whenever he rants about certain plays.

  “That won’t happen this year. They’re defensemen are slow and weak. We should be able to sneak around them with little effort. I swear they haven’t conditioned outside of regular season,” Nick says, smirking at me.

  “Let me guess, you tried them out tonight?” My dad nods his chin at Nick’s hands.

  “With all due respect, Sir, they had it coming.” Nick’s shoulders pull low, making him look much smaller than his six-foot three height.

  “Sometimes a man needs to know when to walk away, Nick.” Dad shakes his head, disappointed. I want to jump in to defend him, to explain, but I stay quiet.

  “They said something about Mia, Sir,” Nick whispers, and immediately, my father’s features soften, and he nods. Nick stands
and heads towards the stairs.

  “Did you get in a few good licks, then?” Dad asks, winking at me.

  “They’ll feel it tomorrow, Sir.” Nick stands a little taller, proud of what he did tonight, and then disappears upstairs. I follow him.

  “Remember, door open!” Dad yells, one last time to make sure we understand.

  Nick is already comfortable on my bed when I walk in the room. “Please, make yourself at home.”

  He sits up like he’s been burned, forcing himself to his feet. “Sorry.”

  Nick’s deep blond hair is cut close to his scalp, but longer on top. Distracted by his appearance, I forget why I dragged him into my bedroom in the first place. It sure as shit isn’t to ogle him.

  This isn’t my first time seeing him. Hell, we’ve spent plenty of time together. Back then, it was different. Maybe I wasn’t allowed to appreciate him like I do now, because he belonged to Mia.

  Everything about him is effortless. He’s the kind of guy who wakes up like that, ready to wow the world with even the smallest details of his appearance. The small perk to his lip she used to kiss every morning in front of my locker. The one dimple on his right cheek. He’s hard to ignore. Every once in a while, when he lets the loss slip away, he’ll smile, and damn, if it doesn’t make me feel like I’m in the presence of something special.

  He still belongs to her, I remind myself.

  “I’m kidding, Nick. It’s okay.” I shake my head, ridding the thoughts I’m having, and walk into my bathroom. He follows behind me and jumps up on the counter, and I start cleaning the mess he’s made of his hands. I pour a small amount of peroxide to kill any germs, and he winces, pulling away. “You’re a baby.” I jerk his hand back and wrap his knuckles, taping the gauze into place. “There, all better.”

  “Thanks,” he says, hopping down and going back into my room.

  He circles around, looking at everything. There’s never been a boy up here, and I’m sort of embarrassed by how cutesy it may appear. He stops at a shelf full of picture frames, and I know which one he’s looking at. It’s of Mia and me, last summer at the beach. She has this huge smile on her face.

  “She had an infectious laugh,” I say, hoping to break the silence. Maybe talking about her will help.

  “She did.” He turns, biting the inside of his cheek. “Do you ever notice how everyone tenses up whenever she’s mentioned, like they’re afraid you’re too fragile to even hear her name?”

  I sit on my bed, and he awkwardly settles on the edge. “My parents were like that for a while. Always dancing around her name or avoiding the topic in general. I finally lost my shit like you did tonight.”

  “What’s been the hardest part for you?” he asks. There’s this sadness wrapped around those words. It makes me think he hasn’t had many chances to actually talk about her.

  “She used to text me first thing in the morning,” I recall. “It seems so stupid now, but I miss it the most. She made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this world.”

  “No, that doesn’t sound stupid at all. Mine is so dumb, I’m too embarrassed to even say it.” His voice cracks.

  “Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad,” I reassure him, tapping his knee to draw him back into the conversation.

  He seems so lost. After a death, I suppose everyone feels a little disoriented, like we’ve veered off the path we thought would lead to our happy place, and still, we are expected to keep walking. Nick is the tough guy in school. He plays hockey and takes no shit from anyone, but here, in front of me right now, he’s so small.

  “She used to do this thing. When I was tired from practice, she’d draw circles on my back. She knew exactly what to do and say to calm me down,” he finally says. The longing he feels for her hits me square in the chest. “Now, when I need to calm down, I only seem to make poor choices.”

  “We all have our own ways of dealing with things.” I hope my being understanding allows him to release some of that grief from his shoulders.

  He stands, a sudden anger erasing the sadness from his face. “I know what you all think when you see me.” He spins around a few times, his hands out to his sides, like a belligerent drunk.

  The thing is, if he was, I could almost understand this behavior. He’s not fueled in a drunken haze. This is resentment and grief driving him to these heights.

  “You have no idea what we’re thinking, Nick, and you know that’s not fair to put that on us.”

  “There he is again. How many girls can he kiss to try to forget her?” He stands in front of the photo, running his finger over her perfect face. He glares at me and blindly brushes his arm over the shelf, knocking the frames to the floor with a loud, thunderous clatter. “How many girls can he screw until he no longer sees her face? How much alcohol does he have to drink to numb it all?” His body falls to the floor, as though he’s exhausted by his emotions.

  I hurry to him, and my arms wrap around his body, and I hold him close. His breaths are uneven, and my jeans are soaked from his tears.

  My dad hurries into the room, out of breath and scared of what he’ll see. He leans against the doorframe, watching me pet Nick’s head until he calms down.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say repeatedly, rocking my body back and forth, like my mom did when I was young and afraid of storms. Overcome by Nick’s pain, my cheeks are soaked with my own tears.

  He rolls onto his back, his eyes pinned shut. A low whimper escapes him, and I have to look away, afraid he’ll break me if he dares to look me in the eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “You should be.” My dad’s voice startles us both, and Nick sits up. “I think it’s time you leave, son.”

  I stand, drying my tears from my face.

  “I’m sorry, Coach. I don’t know what got into me.” Nick glances at me before he leaves, but I can’t make myself look him in the eyes.

  And just like that he’s gone.

  My dad dries the tears from my cheeks. “You’re a good friend, Hannah, but sometimes, people need to fall before they can get back up. Let that boy fall.”

  *****

  Throughout the night, and again this whole morning, I can’t stop thinking about what my dad said. Let that boy fall. Is his advice still valid if Nick has already fallen as far as he can go? And he’s wrong about one thing he said. I’m not a good friend.

  “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I whisper.

  My focus is across the restaurant where Nick has a sophomore cozied up under his arm.

  “Do what anymore?” Nicole asks, scooting to the edge of the booth.

  “I promised Mia I’d watch out for him, make sure he doesn’t crumble.” I set my order pad down and tighten the apron around my waist.

  “I made the same promise, Hannah.” She raises a hand at where he’s sitting. “Look at him. All smiles and carefree. Doesn’t it piss you off, like she meant nothing to him?”

  Kellan pushes past me and takes the side across from Nicole. “Let’s give him a little bit of a break.”

  “Really?” Nicole glares at him. “Were you not the one who threatened to kick his ass if he kept this shit up?”

  “I don’t know what it’s like to lose the girl I love.” Kellan reaches across the table and grabs her hand, squeezing it. They stare at each other, their expressions softening. “Don’t get it all twisted up. I still hate seeing him doing what he’s doing.”

  This is when I should tell her about his breakdown last night in my bedroom. Instead, I stay silent, allowing her to believe he’s made of marble. What went down in my room feels too personal, an open wound, and it’s not mine to share.

  The owner walks in and the last thing I need is to get in trouble today.

  “I better go,” I say. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

  “Hannah, help me refill the drinks at the table in the corner, will you?” Frank asks. He’s one of the waiters on staff here at the Blue Cricket. I’m only doing it for him because he looks
flustered as hell trying to put an order into the new computer system.

  “Sure thing.” I wave over my shoulder, when what I really want to say is you owe me big time.

  Nick and the sophomore who has no name as far as I’m concerned, glance at me as I approach. Before I have time to speak, my body is shoved to the side. Jason Little and another guy from the hockey team slide into the booth across from them and hunch over the menus like a bunch of starved barbarians.

  “Come on, guys,” Nick chastises them for pushing me out of the way.

  “It’s all good. I should expect nothing less from a bunch of hockey players.” Rolling my eyes, I stare at them, hoping they’ll spit out their orders instead of me having to pretend I’m loving waiting on them. Patience has never been a strong suit of mine. “Today, juniors. Fuck.”

  “Do you usually kiss your customers with that mouth?” Jason smirks.

  “I can think of something else those full, pretty, pink lips can kiss.” The guy next to Jason runs his hands over my arm, and bile rises in my throat.

  “I would have to know who the fuck you are before I ever thought about kissing anything on you, asshole.” I grab his finger and bend it back. The wail that exits this boy’s mouth makes it worth the disgust I feel from his smallest touch. “You’re a bench warmer, but I’d really hate for you not to be able to hold onto your stick all season. That’s what will happen if you lay your hands on me again”— I laugh sadistically— “hell, if you even look in my direction. Do you understand me? Have some class, motherfucker.”

  “Damn, girl, sorry,” the asshole apologizes. “I’m Stevie, by the way.”

  “Too late, asshole.” I glance around the table, stopping on Nick last. Something that resembles amusement and pride fills his face. “You’re all getting waters.” Each of their mouths open to say something, but I hold my hand up and walk away.

  Nick gives the guy shit. “You can’t talk to her like that, man. For one, she’s Coach’s daughter, and that’s the quickest way to never touch ice. And two, I’ll run your damn head through that wall if you do it again. You got me?”