Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
HUNTER
G affney’s is packed. It’s always packed, but Tuesdays—when wings and pints are offered at half price—are extra chaotic.
There are perks to being a member of a championship-winning sports team, though.
“Go ahead, man,” some guy I’ve never seen before says, stepping aside so I can take his spot at the bar. “Awesome season.”
I give him an appreciative nod before stepping up to the counter. The varnished wood is worn in spots, scratched in others.
A blonde appears with a white rag in hand, swiping up a spill someone left behind. I recognize her. Her name is Stacey, according to the name tag attached to her cleavage.
She recognizes me too. “Hey, Hunter.”
“Hey. Pint of IPA, please.”
I already finished my first beer, and usually that’s my limit on school nights. But Phillips drove us in his fire engine–colored truck, and I had a long day, so I’m making an exception. Plus, they’re half price, so it’s basically like drinking one.
“Coming right up,” Stacey says.
She reappears with a fresh beer less than a minute later.
“Conor still with the redhead?” Stacey asks as she slides it to me.
“Yep,” I answer.
Not the first time I’ve been asked about Hart’s relationship status today, and I’m guessing it won’t be the last. His nickname on campus is “Hart-breaker.” And honestly, it doesn’t have much to do with his last name.
Stacey makes a face, then glances toward the group of my teammates. “Guys’ night?”
“I guess.”
Neither Rylan nor Harlow are here. And last I heard Jack Williams was dating someone, but his girlfriend isn’t at Gaffney’s either.
“What about you?”
I take a sip of my drink, then fish a five out of my wallet. “What about me?”
Stacey smirks. “Are you single, Hunter?”
“Thanks for the beer,” I say, then walk off without waiting for my change. Hopefully she prefers a two-dollar tip to an answer.
Most of the hockey team is clustered around Gaffney’s largest table. I prop a hip against one of the chairs and sip on my cold beer, watching the sports commentators on the television above the bar. It’s too loud to hear what they’re saying, but I scan the subtitles. They’re discussing Opening Day, which is Thursday.
“’Sup, Morgan?”
Robby’s voice registers a half second before he appears next to me, also holding a pint.
“Not much,” I say, glancing away from the screen. “You? How was…Kentucky?”
Sampson grins. “Awesome. I’d ask how yours was, but Phillips already filled me in. Jealous you guys surfed. I’ve always wanted to try.”
“Don’t,” I advise. “My shoulder is still fucked up.”
Robby punches my left arm. “This one?”
I roll my eyes as I sip more beer.
“You bummed break is over? You seem more serious than your usual serious self.”
I snort at his observation. “Stressful day.”
“How come?”
“Just a long meeting with my advisor.”
I spent two hours in Professor Hayden’s office this afternoon, going over my grad school options. I’m glad I talked to my mom beforehand, because it was a lot easier to discuss all my options after admitting my hesitations to her. But still, I have to make a final decision, and there’s no obvious choice.
“Ah. Endless praise must suck.”
“Fuck off, Sampson.”
Robby laughs. “Dude, it’s not a secret. You’re the only guy on the team who got academic honors every damn semester.”
“Yeah, yeah. And I thought that was the hard part.”
“Tell me about it.” Robby groans. “I thought the last weeks before graduation were supposed to be the easiest of college.”
I snort. “Who the hell told you that?”
“Wishful thinking, I guess. I already finished all my major requirements. Diploma’s just a fucking formality at this point, right?”
“I guess.”
Robby got a job as a market research analyst, so he knows exactly what his post-grad life will look like.
I’ve had four years to get used to the idea, but it’s bizarre to realize college will just be… over , and soon. No more nights at Gaffney’s. No more living with Conor and Aidan. Somerville is the only town I’ve lived in aside from Casper. It’s become a second home.
Holt doesn’t have any graduate schools. Staying past senior year was never a possibility. But it’s unsettling to realize how close to the end we really are.
“Hey! I thought you couldn’t make it.”
I glance in the direction of Conor’s voice.
He’s hugging Harlow. I can’t see her face, but Harlow’s red hair is easily identifiable.
And…Harlow didn’t show up alone. Standing a foot away from her is Eve. She’s smiling as she watches Conor and Harlow embrace.
My first instinct is avoidance. “Wanna play pool?” I ask Robby.
“Yeah, sure,” he agrees. “Just let me grab another beer. I’ll meet you over there.”
I nod, then start weaving through the busy bar toward the pool table.
There are a couple of guys standing around it, but they move away as soon as they see me coming.
“All yours, man,” one says.
“You guys can play too,” I offer.
“Nah, nah. We’re good,” the same guy says. His eyes are on Robby, who’s appeared with a green bottle in hand. Not surprised he enjoyed the same fast service I did.
Robby glances at the wide-eyed guys, then grins at me.
More perks. They’re juniors. Or maybe even sophomores. Gaffney’s is pretty liberal with its carding policy. As in, it doesn’t really have one. College kids keep this place in business.
These younger guys are staring at us like we’re gods and they’re mere mortals, and I kind of want to tell them that getting older isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
“You break first,” Robby says. He’s already racked up the balls.
I sneak a look at the team’s table.
Aidan’s hugging Eve. He lets her go and glances around, possibly looking for me. The three of us usually stick together at these things. The whole team is tight, but Conor, Aidan, and I are known as a unit.
Was walking off as soon as Eve showed up childish? Absolutely. I should have said hi to her, at least.
But I’m pissed. Not at her, but around her.
I didn’t realize how badly I wanted that shot with her. Didn’t realize how much hope I’d let accumulate last week.
Not until I saw her sitting with her ex on a coffee date earlier. She had every right to meet him. I thought she needed more time, and maybe space, and so I didn’t flat-out tell her how I felt.
And disappointment sucks. Especially this type of disappointment.
If we’d lost the championship, it would have felt awful. But I would have known I did everything I could.
I didn’t do everything I could, with Eve.
So I need to scowl and sulk and hit something. Expel some of that disappointment. Be selfish, for once, rather than pretend everything’s fine.
Robby’s distracted, chatting with a brunette who came over to squeeze into one of the booths lining the wall past the pool table.
I shake my head before breaking the balls. I sink the 4 ball into a pocket, then call out, “You’re stripes.”
Robby hands the girl her phone, then ambles toward me wearing a shit-eating grin to take his turn.
Playing pool with Sampson is a decent distraction. By the time the game ends—I win—my beer glass is empty and I’m ready to go.
Robby’s chatting with the brunette again, so I head over to Aidan to let him know I’m done for the night. The walk from here back to our place isn’t bad, and I could use some fresh air and silence.
There’s no sign of Conor, Harlow, or Eve by our usual table, so they must have moved to another section of the bar.
Aidan’s by the television, talking to one of the juniors, Jake Brennan. They caused quite the scene right before the championship game, but they seem to be on good terms again now. Phillips has always been more forgiving than Hart, who holds a grudge better than anyone I’ve ever met.
Aidan frowns when I tell him I’m leaving. “It’s not even nine.”
“I know. I’m not feeling great.”
Not a lie. I feel like shit. Cowardly shit.
Phillips pulls his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’ll walk home.”
“I’m driving you, man. Let’s go.”
“What about Hart?”
“Harlow’s here, and she drove. She’ll drop him, or he’ll stay at her place. No biggie. Come on.”
Aidan seems determined to drive me, so I stop arguing.
I follow him out of Gaffney’s, inhaling a deep breath of damp air. It’s warmer than it’s been since the very start of senior year, another reminder of May’s rapid approach.
One upside of its color: Aidan’s truck is always easy to spot. My SUV—which is currently at a local mechanic getting a new tire put on—is practically camouflage by comparison.
“Do you think I could run a place like that?” Phillips asks.
I glance over, confused by the question, but Aidan’s eyes are on the road as he pulls out of the parking lot. And it’s too dim in the car for me to see much of his expression. “A place like what? Gaffney’s?”
“Yeah.” His fingers tighten on the wheel briefly. “I have the money to invest in something, and I have—well, I will have— a business degree. There’s this waitress who works at Gaffney’s, Zara, who wants to open a brewery. She actually does it—brews beer. I’ve tried a couple, they’re good…” He clears his throat. “So, you think I’d be any good at it?”
“I think you’d be great at it,” I tell him.
Another vehicle’s headlights flash through the cab, revealing the smile on Aidan’s face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve basically spent the past four years researching the industry.”
He guffaws. “True. Plus, it’ll really piss off my parents if I spend my trust fund on a bar.”
I’ve never met Aidan’s parents, which says a lot about his relationship with them. And about them, period. Aidan’s a really difficult person to piss off, and he could become best friends with a brick wall.
“Where would you open it?” I ask.
“Seattle, probably. There’s no way I’m moving back to LA, and Rye—it’s serious with her. I don’t want to do long distance. Seattle is far enough away I can do my own thing—work, I guess—during the week, but we could still see each other on the weekends.”
“That sounds perfect, man. If there’s anything I can do to help make it happen, let me know.”
“You could come buy a beer, when we open.”
“I’ll be there, Phillips.”
Aidan laughs. “Nah, I’m kidding. First round would be on the house. Friends and family discount. I might make Hart pay, though, depending on the size of his rookie contract.”
I smile, then tentatively ask, “You think he’ll make it?”
It’s a topic we’ve never discussed. I’ve talked to Conor about his dream directly, and I’m sure Aidan has too. But he and I never have.
“He deserves to.”
“He does,” I agree.
“If I’d missed that goal in the championship—if we’d lost the fucking championship…”
“I know. But you didn’t. We didn’t. There’s nothing else we could have done. Nothing else we can do.”
Which is the toughest part. Knowing a bunch of guys in suits are picking apart Hart’s stats in a conference room, deliberating whether or not to give him a chance.
“He’ll be fine, if he doesn’t make it,” Aidan tells me. He sounds like he’s reassuring himself, as much as me. “His grades are almost as good as yours. And he has Harlow in his corner now. They’re so in love it’s ridiculous. They’ll probably get married before our five-year reunion.”
“Five years? I’d guess three. And ridiculous is rich, coming from the guy who spent most of spring break kissing his girlfriend in a hot tub.”
Phillips grins. “I have no regrets about that. But I am sorry you got stuck as the odd man out. I remember what hanging out with Hart was like after he and Harlow got together. Never meant to make you feel that way.”
“Don’t worry about it, man. I’m happy for you. And Hart. Yeah, the dynamic is definitely different, but that’s life. Things change.”
“It worked out well, having Eve there,” Aidan comments.
I glance out the window. We’re almost home. “Yeah. It did.”
“It’s Robby’s birthday next Sunday,” Aidan says, flicking on a blinker to turn down our street. “That’s what I was talking to Brennan about. We were thinking of throwing a party here? I’ll run it past Hart, but good with you?”
“Yep,” I reply. “Sounds good. Let me know what I can do.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks for the ride,” I say as Aidan pulls into our driveway.
“No problem.” He nods, popping his door open. “You feel like watching something?”
I deliberate as we walk toward the front steps. I’m tired, but I doubt I’ll actually fall asleep this early. And if I did, I’d probably wake up in the middle of the night. “I’m good for an hour or so.”
Phillips grins as we head inside. Which means I doubt I’ll get to bed before midnight.