9 Moral support
CHAPTER NINE
Moral support
RILEY
Tanner was late. He’d text earlier saying traffic had been bad. Lunch had come and gone, and now I was starving.
Parker had taken my duffel bag in her dad’s van, along with my thickest puffer coat. I’m not sure whose idea it was to camp in Allentown in January, but they had to have been high when they made the decision. It was expected to drop to twenty-eight degrees tonight. Hypothermia wasn’t off the table.
I had leggings on under my sweats, and two long-sleeves beneath my sweater, as well as a beanie, thick socks, and – forget style – because I was wearing Uggs.
Just before four-p.m. Tanner’s near-new Jeep pulled up in front of my house. It was a guilt gift from dad. I had the same in black.
Tanner turned down the music when I climbed inside. “Hey, Ri.” He reached over the console to hug me. “Sorry I’m late. We left Allentown later than I hoped and traffic was an absolute nightmare.”
“No worries. Did Lucas pick up the car?”
“Sure did. No idea what was wrong with his last one, but apparently he was due for an upgrade.”
I rolled my eyes. “Rich kids.”
Tanner snickered. “Rich kids.”
A comment many would find hypocritical of Tanner and me. But neither of us had been rich kids growing up. We’d had a wealthy dad who’d paid the bare minimum child support to our mums .
In my teenage years, when dad’s time freed up, a switch had flipped. That’s when the guilt gifts began. As well as an exponential amount of attention for Tanner.
Once dad realised how talented Tanner was at hockey, his interest had spiked. Overnight Tanner became the son dad bragged to his friends about. He left out the fact he didn’t know a thing about Tanner other than his hockey stats though.
“Do you have time for an extremely late lunch or early dinner?” Tanner asked. “Whichever way you want to look at it.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “I am not excited for this campout, so please waste as much time as possible.”
Tanner chose a diner halfway between our towns. We often met here to catch up. At this weird time of day, the lunch rush had passed and the dinner one hadn’t begun. Apart from one trucker sitting at the counter, we were the only people here. The waitress came straight over to take our orders. She was young, maybe a year or so older than us. Her eyes lingered on Tanner and she giggled after everything he said.
Tanner and I didn’t look similar at all. I had brown hair – he had fair hair. I was barely five-foot-four – he towered over me at six-foot-three.
He looked like his mum, and I looked like mine.
Neither of us carried any appearance characteristics from our dad except our eyes. Those were the same. And athletically, we had all of dad’s best genes.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked once the waitress left.
“No plans. We have a game tomorrow. The team is on a strict curfew from our captain.”
I was insanely jealous. If I had my way, I’d be spending this evening on the couch. Toasty warm beneath a blanket with a trashy movie playing in the background.
“Damn. I should’ve driven myself so I could hang around for your game tomorrow.”
I loved watching my brother play hockey. He was extremely talented. Truth be told, I loved watching any hockey game. Just not Phil-U’s games. And that reason wasn’t solely reserved because of Will Caufield. My avoidance ran deeper than our breakup.
Even when we were dating, I never once went to one of his games, something I knew bothered him. From the get-go though, I’d been upfront about not coming. He assumed it was because I didn’t like hockey. It’d been easy enough to go with that lie, although I’d almost given myself away a few times. Particularly whenever he was watching the NHL with his friends. I’d literally had to bite my tongue from shouting out things that’d make it very clear that I knew a shit ton about hockey.
“It’s all good. I was going to ask though...” Tanner trailed off as he used his straw to twirl the ice in his drink. “We’re playing Phil-U next weekend. Maybe you could come to that game.”
All colour drained from my face. The thought alone was enough to make me anxious.
“It’s just, well, dad will be there,” Tanner went on. “I could use your moral support.”
Damn. He was playing the dad card . A card he knew I couldn’t ignore.
Our father wasn’t an easy man, but what made him slightly more bearable was dealing with him together. I’d always had Tanner’s back, and he’d always had mine.
By all accounts, there’d been a high chance we’d grow up hating each other. Our mothers did. Dad had been dating Tanner’s mum in college. In his senior year, she’d fallen pregnant. Around the same time, he’d cheated on her with my mum.
Suddenly dad had two pregnant women bailing him up. But instead of taking responsibility, he’d done the most selfish thing he could – bailed on them both. Which in turn meant he’d bailed on Tanner and me too.
Tanner’s eyes searched mine, pleadingly. “I can get you tickets in the Allentown fan section with Brooklyn and Marnie.”
If Tanner hadn’t brought dad into this, I’d already have said no.
Phil-U’s hockey arena seated eight-thousand people. With the game on Saturday night, it was guaranteed to sell out. As one in eight-thousand people, my chances of bumping into someone I didn’t want to see were low.
Like Will Caufield. Or his popular friends. Or his beautiful girlfriend.
I heaved a defeated sigh. “I’ll be there.”