Chapter 25
Caden
Austin’s voice sounds out behind me. “What are you doing?”
I almost jump out of my skin as I slam my laptop shut, turning to face him.
“What the fuck?” I croak, grabbing one of the couch cushions and smacking it against his face.
“Ow!” he laughs, groaning as he rubs the side of his jaw.
Then he climbs over the back of the sofa and settles down beside me, turning on the TV.
I stare at him in disbelief. “There are three seats on this couch.”
He smiles across at me. “I know.”
I breathe out a laugh as I shove him away from me. “Then why the fuck are you sitting right next to me?”
He kicks his leg into my chest, trying to prevent being exiled to the other end of the sofa, but I manage to body-slam him onto cushion number three before trudging back to my side of the couch.
“What?” he asks innocently. “A guy can’t sit next to his best friend on boys’ night?”
“Boys’ night?” I laugh. “We’re finishing assignments.”
“You’re finishing assignments. I’m playing video games.”
I roll my eyes, amused. Yeah, Austin finished his last paper about an hour ago, meaning that I’m the last guy on our floor to submit my final essay for this semester.
Hughes is out at Rodeo Bar flexing his French skills, and I don’t know about the guys on the floors below us, so it’s basically just Austin and me in the hockey house tonight.
I lift the lid back up on my laptop and turn my attention to my conclusion, slow-reading it for typos before I save the final document. Then I flick a look over to Austin as he selects the video game that he’s going to play, hooking it up to the screen in front of us and grabbing his controller.
Growing up on a rural ranch in the kind of town that I was raised in, video games are something that I’ve never had anything to do with.
My brothers and I were literally running tractors from the age of nine, and when we weren’t finishing school assignments or doing ranch work with our dad, we were climbing on the ATVs and riding them out to camp up in the valleys.
The only phone that I had was a burner until I turned seventeen, and I hadn’t touched a games console until I came to college.
I stare cautiously at the screen as Austin starts the game, and he grins when he catches me, chucking me a controller.
“Submit your essay, and I’ll teach you,” he says patiently.
I drop my gaze back to my laptop, my neck heating up. “No, I’m good.”
“Caden,” he laughs, “stop trying to deny your inner nerd. I know that this is the kind of shit that a guy like you would be all over.”
I blink at him. Inner nerd? “What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s that quiet jock thing. The spiky fringe, the tatts, the pink-haired girlfriend,” he lists off on his free hand.
I frown at him as I shove my fringe back. “Don’t talk about Winter, man.”
He grins as he sets up his game. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. She’d probably love this, too.”
I flick a look at the screen again, and then glance at the spare controller.
Maybe when I head back to Texas… maybe I could buy us one of these things.
“Considering it, huh?” Austin teases.
I sigh and get back to my assignment.
He pipes up two seconds later.
“Why were you looking at plane tickets?” he asks.
“When you were stalkin’ over my shoulder?”
He breathes out a laugh. “Yeah. Honestly, from your reaction I thought I was going to catch you watching porn.”
I stare at him before I get back to my laptop.
Then I mumble, “I don’t watch porn.”
His controller falls to the floor.
“You don’t watch porn?”
I do the final preview of my essay and click submit with a tap of my thumb.
“Earth to Caden.”
I glance up. “What?”
“What the fuck do you mean you don’t watch porn?”
I spare a look at Austin’s game before returning my attention back to my laptop, pulling up the tab that I was looking at before he joined me from the kitchen.
I mean, I know that it’s in every corner of the internet, but I don’t go out of my way to watch it, because it’s just not for me.
“I don’t need to watch something to get… you know,” I murmur, my voice turning rough as I try to focus on what I’m typing.
“What about during?” Austin asks.
My brow arches. “During?”
“Like, when you’re doing it solo,” he explains.
“Are you talking about when I–?”
Austin nods, getting into it now. “When you give yourself an HJ, yeah.”
An HJ? He’s fucking lost it.
“There’s no way that we’re having this conversation,” I tell him, laughing.
Austin gapes. “Why not?”
I shake my head. “You’re insane.”
“So, what do you do? Use your imagination?”
My dimples crease. “Austin, please stop talking.”
I mean, in all honesty, I think about Winter, and all of the things that I want us to do when I’m back in Kentucky. Those thoughts have seen me through every shower I’ve had in Carter Ridge.
I select the date on the airline’s webpage and Austin glances over, checking what I’m doing.
“Why are you looking at flights for February fourteenth?” he asks.
I breathe out a laugh. “Take a wild guess.”
“Dude, hate to break it to you, but you can’t see your girl on that day.”
My fingers halt over the keypad. “What are you talking about?”
He nods as he thumbs his controller. “We have the D1 handover dinner that night, remember?”
I stare at him in pin-drop silence.
And then I fucking remember.
“Shit,” I rasp hoarsely, dragging one hand through my hair as I stare at the screen.
We have two away games on the twelfth and the thirteenth, the last games we’ll be playing before the NCAA semi-final, and I was hoping that I’d be able to fly down to Texas for the weekend because Valentine’s Day falls on a Saturday this year.
And now I look at the page of flights, fucking devastated.
I’m not going to be able to see Winter on Valentine’s Day this year?
Austin winces when he sees my expression. “Want me to email you my calendar?”
“Please,” I reply, glancing at him as he pulls out his cell and shoots me a screenshot.
I open up my emails and enlarge the image.
And I immediately think, shit, shit, shit.
Because not only do we have the captain handover on Valentine’s Day – if we make the Frozen Four final… it’s one day prior to Winter’s rodeo.
Which would mean, if we do make the final, then I’ll have less than twenty-four hours to play, pack, and get on a late-night flight to Texas, as well as finding a ride from the airport so that I can make the drive to the rodeo.
Which, I should point out, starts first thing in the morning.
“I’m so fucked,” I rasp.
“Yeah,” Austin agrees.
And it’s not even as though I can just ditch this captain handover because – given what Coach has been saying all season – I could be the next captain.
I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, resting my head on the back of the couch as my chest heaves.
“I need to call Winter,” I rumble quietly.
“You want to do it here or in your room?”
I exhale hard. “I’ll go to my room.”
“Sorry, man,” Austin says, and I give him a nod as I get to my feet.
It’s not his fault that our schedule barely gave us an inch all season, what with training four days a week, plus two weekly games and our actual classes.
Between ice-time and assignments, I’m lucky that I even have the nights to call my girlfriend.
I pick up my laptop from the coffee table and trudge heavily toward my room, so lost in my thoughts before I enter that I accidentally whack my forehead straight off the doorjamb.
“Fuck!” I curse, immediately pressing my palm against my eyebrow, and tossing my laptop onto my bed before slamming the door with my foot behind me.
I twist the lock with my free hand and maintain the pressure on my brow, wincing as I pick up my cell from the dresser because now my head is hurting for two reasons.
I unlock it, pull up Winter’s number, and throw my body down on the sheets, tapping out a quick are you busy right now, baby? I need to call you text.
I watch the screen in silence for two minutes, tapping my thumb against the side, and then I’m exhaling with relief as she messages back I’m here :).
“Thank God,” I whisper, and then I hit the videocall button, feeling the pressure on my chest build until I’m rubbing my sternum, my shoulders heaving.
The line connects and I try to calm my breathing before Winter realises that there’s something wrong.
But the second that she sees me, she immediately knows.
“Caden, what is it?” she breathes softly, looking behind her and then closing a door.
It looks like she’s in the stables, which makes my heart ache, longing to be home.
She’ll have been teaching the kids this morning, riding the valley with Gratitude in the afternoon, and practicing with Lightning all evening, not knowing that I’m about to give her the worst news.
I wish that you were here right now, I want to tell her. My arms around your waist. Your hands in my hair.
I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow, my chest rising and falling way too fast to catch my breath.
“Caden,” she says again, and I nod my head, dropping my palm from my brow. And then she sucks in a gentle gasp and says, “Baby, what happened to your forehead?”
The worry in her Southern voice momentarily distracts me from my spiralling, and I blink my eyes open, feeling hazy, and glancing at the small rectangle of myself on the screen.
And my brow rises slightly.
“Fuck,” I murmur. “Sorry.”
I hadn’t realised how badly the cut on my brow was bleeding.
I lift my hand and glance at the skin, seeing the residual blood already drying on my palm.
“You don’t need to apologise,” she rasps. “Have you got any saline?”
I look into her beautiful eyes with a swathe of guilt, not wanting to freak her out any more than I already have.
“Lemme check,” I tell her quietly, getting heavily to my feet and lumbering to the dresser. “I feel lightheaded,” I admit.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” she assures me.
I nod, tug open the drawer, and rummage around until I find the small first aid box my parents gave me, flipping the lid and pulling out what I need before heading back to the bed.