13. Nash
CHAPTER 13
NASH
“Two eggs over medium, hash browns with onions and peppers, sourdough toast, and a side of maple syrup,” Hadley tells the waitress in our favorite local breakfast spot, handing her the menu after she places her order.
I put in my order, and the waitress disappears in the kitchen.
“I feel like it's been forever since we've done this,” I say, happy to have finally been able to get my little sister to sit down and have a meal with me. We used to do it all the time, but our schedules only seem to get busier and more demanding every year.
“I know,” Hadley says, sipping her coffee. “Don't get me wrong, I love my classes and I'm so excited to almost be done, but every year it's gotten harder. I feel like all I do is go to school and study most days.”
“You're doing amazing.” I have nothing but pride for her. “I've never seen anybody work as hard as you do.”
She flashes me an incredulous look. “That is so not true,” she says. “Nash, all you've done is work your ass off since you were a kid. And sure, in the beginning, hockey may have been a passion for you, something you did because you loved it and you were damn good at it, but the minute Dad got sick? The minute the bills started piling up? The minute you had to step in and become more than just a big brother?” She visibly swallows, shrugging a little. “I've never seen anybody work that hard. And you've never stopped. Not for a second. Not even after you signed your rookie contract and the finances were no longer such a burden.”
Emotion clogs my throat, so I clear it and take a long sip of scalding hot coffee. She's not wrong. I’ve spent the last decade busting my ass trying to be both a parent to her and a support system to my actual parents.
“Well,” I say. “It's all been worth it,” I continue. “Dad's doing better. Mom is able to focus on him without having to worry about shuffling three jobs just to pay the bills, and you're all set to become one of the best sports-medicine-neuroscience-scientists in the world,” I say, exaggerating her title, but it's just too fun not to.
The way she’s focused on her career goals for the past few years has been nothing short of incredible, her taking the fast track working on both her bachelor’s and PhD at the same time. It's a program that she had to get authorized from the dean of the college, but she managed to convince him that earning these degrees was her sole focus, and she was lucky enough to have college paid for as well as living expenses so school would be her only job until she graduated. Which was coming up quick with a little over a month left in her college career.
She laughs and shakes her head. “I wouldn't be able to do what I do if you weren't doing what you do,” she says. “I know my college has cost almost as much as Dad's medical bills, and trust me, the minute I secure a job, I’m going to pay you back?—”
“No, you're not,” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. “Paying for your college is not a favor or a loan. I can do it, so I’m doing it. Watching you do what you love will be enough of a reward for me.”
She smiles at me, leaning back in the booth slightly as the waitress sets our food in front of us. “You're pretty amazing,” she says once the waitress has left, and we start digging into our food. “You know your giant heart almost makes up for the fact that you're super overbearing and annoying sometimes,” she teases.
I take a giant bite of my avocado toast. “I’m not overbearing.”
She glares at me from across the table. “You so are ,” she says.
“Am not.”
“Are too,” she says more forcefully. “How do you explain my freshman year of college then?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” I say, looking at her like she's grown another head. “The only thing I did to you in college while I was in my final year was help you move into your dorm.”
“That's such BS,” she says, laughing like I'm the most ridiculous person on the planet. “You literally scared off every single guy who might’ve been interested in me, threatening to ram a hockey stick up their asses if they so much as looked at me.”
I bark out a laugh, totally forgetting I did that. I take another bite, shaking my head. “I only said that to the guys who were jerks.”
“In your eyes, every guy who was interested in me was a jerk,” she counters.
“I was just looking out for you,” I argue. “I have a little more experience with assholes than you do. I’m around them constantly.”
“Well thank goodness you were only at the same school as me for a year, at least when you went off to start your rookie contract men were actually able to speak to me without fearing for their lives.”
“What men?”
Hadley laughs at me. “You're insufferable.”
“I go from amazing to insufferable in the span of a few minutes?” I tease her. I reach for her plate, scooting it closer toward me. “Maybe I'll just finish this off for you since I'm so insufferable ?—”
“Don't, I'm starving!” She pulls her plate back, guarding it with her life as she pours syrup over her hashbrowns. She takes a few bites before sipping her coffee again and eyeing me suspiciously.
“I'm not going to steal your food,” I say. “As much as I would love to dig into that, I have to eat things that are fueling my body as of right now. But once the off-season comes it's going to be waffles for a week.”
“Do you have any plans for the off-season?” she asks. “Are you going to actually do something for yourself for a change or are you going to spend the entire time in New York with Mom and Dad, fixing every little thing in the house you can or hiring people for the jobs you can't?”
My eyes widen at her, and I look around like I’m searching for answers. “What’s got you in such a mood today?”
“Oh please, I'm in a mood every day,” she says. “You know I'm constantly begging you to take more time for yourself. You've already done more than enough for the family. Mom and Dad agree.”
I finish up my second slice of avocado toast, cleaning my hands on a napkin before leaning back against the booth and shrugging. “This is all I've known since I was eighteen years old,” I say.
The day Dad got diagnosed.
Everything changed for me then.
My goals may not have changed, but the why behind the goal did. I know that things have finally slowed down, and his health is finally looking up, but it's hard to just stop doing all the things you've done for almost a decade.
“I know,” she says. “And I'm sorry you had to step up and take care of a teenybopper little sister, shuffling me around to and from school events, grocery shopping, meal planning, all of it. I'm sorry you felt responsible for me?—”
“I'm not sorry,” I cut her off. “Hadley, I love you. I remember the day Mom and Dad brought you home. I'd never been more excited in my life. My new best friend was sitting there, crying in a car seat. It was the best day of my three-year-old life.”
Her eyes water, and I wave her off.
“It was,” I say. “And our parents are amazing. I was more than happy to step up and help the family out when I was needed. None of it has ever been a burden on me.”
“I know it's not a burden,” she says. “And I honestly think that you stepping up like you did, in a way that so many other people wouldn't and it would be totally understandable, has been the sole reason why Dad has not only survived this long, but is suddenly looking at a life without constant treatment. Without you doing what you did, and continuing to do what you do, Mom wouldn't be able to take care of him like she does. Dad wouldn't have the doctors or the treatment that he does. And while I know none of us will ever be able to repay you for that, even when you say we don't owe you anything, I can hope that you'll focus on yourself for once.”
I swallow hard. “I do things for myself,” I say, shrugging. “Hell, I’m known as the cocky playboy of the Badgers, remember? You can barely go on a social site without seeing me plastered on it, one ridiculous headline after the next.”
“Serial dating isn't exactly self-care,” she says. “Not that there's anything wrong with it. But lately, that hasn't been in the headlines.”
I remain silent, cocking a brow at her, knowing what's about to come next.
“Everything I see reported on you has been about your involvement with Reese,” she continues. “And I know you told me that it was a mutually beneficial situation, but the more I see of you two together, the more I'm highly doubting it's as fake as you're claiming it is.”
I rub my palms over my face.
I can't lie to Hadley. Never have, never will.
“I knew it,” she says before I can even respond. “It totally isn't fake.”
“It's complicated,” I explain. “It definitely was set up that way in the beginning,” I continue.
That night months ago seems like such a different version of myself when I look back on it. I thought the little business endeavor that me and Reese struck would be a fun adventure, short-lasting but amusing. But here I am, months later, and I have no intention of breaking things off.
“I don't know how to navigate this,” I admit to Hadley.
“Being monogamous?” she asks, not a hint of judgment in her tone.
“Not just that,” I say. “The idea of being with her and only her is easy. It has been since the beginning. I have no interest in anyone else, but for the last decade, I've had one sole purpose and that's to work as hard as I can for as long as I can to ensure my family is taken care of.”
“You’ve done that, though. We’re all doing well, because of you,” she says. She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You've done everything to ensure that. It's definitely time you start focusing on yourself, Nash,” she says, leaning back in the booth again. “You need to figure out what you really want. And if that's being the best and most badass hockey player there is, then keep doing what you're doing. If that somehow also includes a real relationship with Reese with no business arrangement around it? Then you need to do it. You deserve the world, regardless of how you present yourself as the cocky, goofy, know it all in front of the cameras.”
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” I say. “But I haven't put my wants or needs first in a long time. It feels strange, almost wrong, somehow. Not to mention Reese hasn't expressed if what we're doing is still under the guise of being fake or not. I can't tell if she's just really enjoying the success from the videos that we post, or if she actually likes me. I'm in uncharted territory and that scares me.”
“She one-hundred-precent likes you,” she says. “No woman would put up with a man she didn't like just for good views. Even if she is a social media manager, she’s still human. And especially not for four months. Plus, as annoying as you can be, you're a really good guy most of the time. Who wouldn't like you?”
I laugh. “I don't know, women who know my dating history and my public persona? Women who think I see them as interchangeable?”
“Reese may have believed those rumors in the beginning,” Hadley says. “But I highly doubt she still believes them. Especially since you guys are practically inseparable whenever you get a spare moment to be together. You know one way you could find out?”
“Talk to her?” I ask in a mocking tone.
“Yep,” she says. “That’s the best way to figure things out.”
“I know,” I say. “But we have such a good thing going. I really don't want to mess it up. Plus, how pathetic would I look if I pour my heart out to her, something I never do, and then she tells me she was just in it for the views? And quite possibly other benefits?”
“First, eww ,” she says, scrunching up her face like she’s bitten into something rotten.
“Second, Reese is a really good person. She doesn't seem like the type to just be doing this for her career, despite the fact that you guys set it up that way. Again, you're never going to know unless you ask her.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I'll get to it.”
Hadley sighs. “She has my vote,” she says. “Not that it matters. But I also think you need to start shifting that mindset to think a little bit more about what you really want. It's time you start focusing on yourself. You absolutely deserve it.”
“Your vote does matter,” I say. “And thanks, sis. I'm sure you're just saying all of this because I'm paying for your breakfast,” I say, trying my best to get back to lighter ground.
Hadley rolls her eyes. “Why do you think I agreed to meet up with you in the first place?”
I smile at her, my chest feeling a little lighter. I’m pretty sure I have the best sister on the planet.
We finish up breakfast, and I give her a hug outside of the restaurant before we part ways, her going back to campus and me heading toward my car.
“Yo, Stokehill,” I hear a familiar voice call my name.
I pause just outside of my car, noticing Liam and his buddies heading over to me.
“What's up?” I ask when they reach me.
“I wanted to ask you something,” one of Liam’s buddies, Darrell, says to me. I cock a brow at him, waiting. “I just saw that video of you and Reese last night,” he says. “At the club?”
I shift my weight, my hackles rising slightly at the mention of Reese.
Relax , I tell myself. Jealousy is not necessary with these guys.
“And?”
“I'm wondering if the two of you are serious? Or if it's all just to keep getting attention for the page?”
A laugh rips from my lips, the idea of him ever having a shot with Reese downright amusing. Hell, I don't even know how I ended up lucky enough to be able to be with her, but this guy? I've seen him get slapped by more girls than anyone else I've ever seen before.
I reel in my laughter, sucking in a deep breath. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn't realize you were being serious. But, my relationship with her is really none of your business.”
“Oh, so it's like that?” he asks, a little bitterness coating his once casual tone.
“Pretty much,” I say, giving him a shrug. Every instinct in my body is roaring to lay claim to her. To say she belongs to me as much as I announced at the bowling alley that I belonged to her. But she's never said the words herself, so I don't feel like I have a right to do that.
Hadley is right, we really need to have this discussion.
“I know she helped you get some endorsement deals,” Darrell continues. “I'm hoping maybe she can help me the same way she's helping you.”
I don't miss the way he shapes the words, somehow something so innocent sounding downright inappropriate, but I don't dignify it with the response that he's clearly wanting. A reaction that will get him five minutes of fame, earning a punch from the wild Nash Stokehill of the Bangor Badgers.
“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe she can. Good luck with that,” I say before getting into my car and driving off without saying goodbye.
I'm not usually such a dick, but that trio really gets under my skin. They talk shit about Coach behind his back, not to mention they have a complete lack of respect whenever the team goes out.
They're just bad news, but their decent hockey skills landed them a spot on the rookie roster. There's nothing I can do about that but hope maybe they grow up a little bit in the next year or so.
Can't believe Monroe is dating one of them.
I head to practice an hour later, and it's grueling, but satisfying in the best way. We’re in the playoffs, something the team hasn’t managed in years. Every practice feels like a step toward the Cup now.
I grab a quick shower at my place, and then I'm jumping in the car again and heading to Reese’s. A cozy night in is exactly what the two of us need.
Our schedules have been ridiculous, but all with things we love and are passionate about so I guess we can't complain. I do miss having more time with her, and sometimes wish when I get home, she'd be there waiting for me.
“Hi!” she greets me with a smile, throwing her arms around me after she's opened her door.
I pick her up, kicking the door closed behind me as I bury my nose in her neck, inhaling deeply, all the tension in my muscles and chest melting the second I have her in my arms.
I pull back enough to give her a kiss, my eyes closing and my mind narrowing to nothing but her. My heart feels full, my entire being centered and focused and whole in a way that’s only been happening around her lately.
She smiles against my kiss, never once pulling away until I do.
“I have Netflix all queued up,” she says as I set her back on her feet.
She's wearing a pair of mismatched socks, a baggy pair of pajama pants, and a thin long sleeve T-shirt. Her hair is gathered on top of her head in a messy bun, and I swear I don't know if I've ever seen her look more beautiful. There’s something extremely intimate about seeing her like this, with her guard down and everything about her so completely at ease around me. She feels safe to be herself with me and that has me thinking that she has to have feelings for me that go beyond the arrangement we originally struck.
“You good?” she asks when she's made it to her spot on the couch and I haven't taken mine next to her.
“Never better,” I answer, peeling off my jacket and hanging it on a hook near her door before I take my spot next to her.
She shifts into me, sighing slightly as she scrolls through her list. “What are you in the mood for tonight?” she asks. “Monroe said Pax is hooked on one of these true crime documentaries.” She stops on the one she mentions. “But if that's too heavy then Blakely said this show is like a comedy regency romance.”
I curl my arm around her shoulders, relaxing further into the couch. “What’s your vibe tonight?” I ask.
A crease forms between her brow as she thinks about it, her eyes darting between the two choices she's narrowed it down to. She clicks on the true crime.
“Let's give this a shot,” she says. “Monroe says it's all Pax has been watching recently.”
I laugh softly. “For someone who is as boy-next-door as he is, he sure does like his dark and disturbing documentaries.”
“It’s so funny,” she says. “He's an absolute teddy bear. But Monroe is pretty obsessed with these things too.”
“Her I get,” I say. “She can be scary as hell when she wants to be.”
Reese laughs, and the sound fills my veins. “You just say that because she beats you up when you're on her table.”
“Still no less scary,” I say.
She chuckles, situating herself against me, resting her head on my chest as the documentary starts.
And after an hour, she’s completely and totally out .
Her body is heavy and comfortable against mine as the documentary comes to a close. I gently reach for the remote, clicking off the TV but make no move to change our position. I'm completely content with her sleeping in my arms, comfortable and couldn't be happier.
And after I sit there for a few minutes, smiling down at how beautiful she looks while sleeping on my chest, I'm struck with an undeniable truth.
I am absolutely and totally in love with this woman.
I broke rule number one.
I am so fucked.