Chapter 4
BEN
THEN
“All these fucking hallways look the fucking same,” I mutter under my breath.
My third day at my new high school and my third day being late for class. Being drafted to the Halifax Hailstorm at sixteen had felt like a dream. Starting grade eleven at a new school was a strong dose of reality.
Joining the Quebec Maritimes Junior Hockey League wasn’t really a question of if, but where. As one of the three junior leagues in the country, it was always part of my plan. Or my coaches and parents’ plans for me. Regardless, I always knew it was coming.
I was happy to be drafted to Nova Scotia.
It’s nice to be only three hours from home and my parents have been coming to as many games as they can manage.
The billet couple I’m staying with have been great so far.
Bob and Sheila’s kids are all grown up and they seem genuinely happy to feed me, do my laundry, and drive me places.
Aside from not fighting with my three sisters, it feels pretty much like home.
I attend school part-time due to my demanding hockey schedule. I’m settling in well, I think, though my navigational skills clearly need improving. I know I’m supposed to be in advanced chemistry right now. I just can’t remember where the hell that is.
I spot a door that looks vaguely familiar and decide to try it. Empty. Wait. Not empty.
A girl sits at a desk at the far end of the classroom, her knees drawn up tightly against her chest, long red hair cascading over one shoulder. She startles when she sees me, her mouth opening in surprise.
And what a mouth. Jesus.
“Hi.” My voice comes out husky in the otherwise silent room.
A blush spreads across her delicate features, like she’s a chameleon trying to match the exact shade of her hair.
“I’m Ben.” I shift my backpack up further on my shoulder and step further into the classroom.
Her full lips quirk up. “I know.” There’s humour in her voice as her vivid blue eyes hold mine. “I’m Madelyn. We have Political Science together.”
Granted, it’s been a crazy week with a lot of new faces, but how the hell did I not notice her?
She tucks her hair behind her ear and my chest does this weird, tight thing I don’t totally understand. “Are you lost?”
“Maybe,” I laugh. “I’m trying to find the chem lab.”
“Who do you have chemistry with?”
I can tell you who I’d like to have chemistry with.
“Umm, Mr. Docherty.”
She smiles at me and the tightness in my chest increases. “That’s the next hall over. Go back towards the trophy cases and take a right.”
“Great. Thanks.” I don’t want to leave, but I can’t think of a reason to stay, so I nod at her and turn to go. A thought occurs to me when I reach the door and I turn around. “Are you lost?”
She bites her lip and hugs her legs tighter against herself and shakes her head. “No. I’m not lost. Just hiding.”
I lean my shoulder against the doorway. “Who are we hiding from?”
“William Shakespeare.”
“You’re in luck. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”
“Unfortunately, his works live on.”
When she doesn’t continue, I say. “I’m going to need a bit more context on that, Maddy.”
Her head tilts to the side as she looks at me. “Only my friends call me Maddy.”
Now it's my turn to raise my eyebrows. “We are friends.”
“Since when?”
“Since I was lost and you found me.”
“Technically, you found me.”
“Let’s split the difference and say we found each other.”
She beams at me. I thought she was pretty before, but that smile? Absolutely beautiful.
“Okay.” Her laugh is so musical that it just became my favourite song. “We can be friends.”
“And friends tell one another why they’re hiding from dead playwrights.”
Maddy runs her fingers through her hair and groans. “My English teacher, Mr. Dowling, is forcing us to act out scenes from Romeo and Juliet with a partner. Which is stupid in the first place because it’s English class, not drama. Regardless, he put me with Jeff Reid and gave us Act 1 Scene 5.”
I wait for her to continue, and when she doesn’t, I ask, “And?”
“That’s the balcony scene.”
“And?”
Her eyes spark with anger. “And I just never thought that my first kiss would be in front of thirty people with a guy who’s bullied me since junior high.”
My entire body stiffens as an embarrassed Maddy buries her face in her hands. Clearly, Mr. Dowling needs to be fired and Jeff Reid needs to die. I just need to decide which to make happen first.
When I don’t say anything, she peeks out at me from between her fingers. “Do you think I’m overreacting? Because I’m told I do that. Personally, I think I’m just reacting.”
What? “Hell no. He can’t make you do that.”
She shrugs. “According to him, he can. I tried to talk to him after class yesterday. I told him I’d write a paper, give a book report, or act out any other scene that doesn’t involve kissing.
But he reiterated that class participation is thirty percent of my grade.
Maybe I am overreacting, I just… I just know that Jeff’s going to be gross about it. He’ll never let me live this down.”
It’s amazing how two minutes ago I didn’t know Jeff Reid existed and now I’m trying to figure out how to dispose of his body. It doesn’t help that I’m new in town and not familiar with the local forest areas yet. What I am certain of is this prick will not be her first kiss.
NOW
“Whose ass do I have to kick?”
The words are out of my mouth the second my sister accepts the call.
“Hello, elder brother,” Beth answers cheerfully. “How is your day going?”
It was going fine until my baby sister texted me a picture of what looked like her driver’s side door with a large dent in it. A thumbs down emoji immediately followed.
“Are you okay?” I say, grabbing my jacket from the back of a kitchen chair.
I got home an hour ago from a brutal day of physicals and fit tests.
Our medical team is making sure we’re all in top condition for our upcoming pre-season games, but thanks to my strict off-season training regime, I’m in the best shape of my life.
“I’m fine, really. I wasn’t in the car when it happened.” She sounds far away and I assume she’s driving with me on speaker phone. “I noticed the dent when I got to the parking lot because…well, how could I not?”
“Did whoever hit you leave a note?”
“Nope.” She puts emphasis on the “p,” making a popping sound.
“This happened at work? Do you remember who was parked next to you this morning? Don’t you have security cameras at school?” It’s Tuesday, so Beth must be just leaving Stittsville Elementary for the day.
“Of course,” she answers, solemnly. “CSI techs are analyzing the footage right now.”
“Beth.”
“Police are combing the area as we speak. The bastards won’t get far.”
“Beth.”
“Ben, relax.” Her laugh is easy and unbothered. “People hit and run in parking lots all the time. I texted you to vent, not because I needed you to swear vengeance and solve the case.”
“I can’t help it, Bug.” I use the nickname I gave her when we were kids.
Her eyes are the same shade of brown as mine but much bigger.
I used to tease her that they took up half of her face like an insect.
“I hate that this happened to you.” It doesn’t matter that my baby sister is approaching her late twenties.
I’m always going to want to fix her problems for her.
“I know you do. But I’m fine. And after a trip to the dealership, the car will be fine, too.”
I suppose that’s the right attitude to have. Not only is my sister smarter than me, she’s also more emotionally mature.
“Do you think Foster would want a dog?” Beth asks shifting gears.
I give my head a shake, chuckling at her abrupt change in topics.
I think about her question as I pull on my sneakers.
Would Foster want a dog? I know he likes dogs.
Probably more than he likes people, but that’s not saying much.
I’ve never heard him talk about owning one.
Maybe that’s because we’re on the road so much with the team.
“I think Foster would let you turn your home into an animal shelter if it would make you happy.”
She heaves a discontented sigh and I picture her scrunching up her face, the same way she has since we were kids. “That’s what I was afraid of. I’d love to get a dog, but only if Foster wants one, too. I don’t want him to do it just to make me happy.”
“Buuuuttt making you happy makes Foster happy.”
“So you see my predicament!”
“I think Foster would love to have a dog.”
She hums softly, and I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “I think so, too. He’s a natural caregiver. It’s one of the things I love about him.”
That’s exactly who Foster is—always has been. And yeah, I was a jerk when they first got together. I didn’t like the idea of my best friend dating my little sister. It felt too close, too messy, like a fool-proof recipe for disaster.
But now? Hearing her like this—so happy, so her—I know I was wrong.
They’re perfect for each other in a way I never saw coming. Foster keeps her grounded without holding her back, and she challenges him to come out of his shell. They balance and elevate each other at the same time.
“I’m glad you two are happy,” I say, and I mean it.
“Thank you. That means a lot to both of us.” She pauses briefly. “And I know you’ll find someone, too. You’ll find your person.”
I already had her and I lost her, I think sadly. It’s been over two weeks since I saw Maddy, but I think about her almost constantly. It was easier to put her out of my mind when she was in another province. But knowing she’s here? In my city? It’s unbearable.
What is she doing right now? Does she like it here? Is she lonely?
I remind myself that it’s not my business anymore. She made that clear when she said she didn’t want to meet to catch up. Still, I wish I knew for sure that she was happy, because she deserves to be so happy, even if it's not with me.
I clear my throat with a laugh. “Well, just do me a favour and stay happy. If you two break up, you’ll have to decide who gets custody of me and that could be very traumatic for all of us. Especially me.”
“Aww, Benny. No matter what happens, you know we both love you very much.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“I’m almost home. Which reminds me. Do you want to come over for supper tonight? I’ve got a roast in the instant pot.”
Ever since we were eliminated from the playoffs last year, my sister has invited me to have supper with her and Foster at least three times a week.
Most of the time I accept because I like hanging out with them and I’ve got nothing else to do.
Not to mention, Beth and Foster are both great cooks and I am definitely not.
But lately I’ve been trying to break out of being their automatic third wheel.
Also, I’m beginning to suspect that the reason she invites me over so much is because she worries that I’m lonely.
Which I’m not. Okay, I am, but no more than I usually am. I used to fill that void with one-night stands, but I’ve curbed that habit, for the most part, focusing more on hockey and less on getting laid.
“Sorry, I’m busy tonight,” I say, relieved to have a real excuse. “I’m on my way to meet my little buddy.”
“That’s wonderful! What do you know about them?”
“Not much, to be honest. He’s an eleven-year-old boy named Sam. We’re just going to hang out at his place today, get to know each other a bit. Then we’ll decide what to do next time.”
I’m really excited. I love kids and they fucking adore me.
And what eleven-year-old boy doesn’t want to hang out with a pro hockey player?
I was thinking I could take him to our practice rink so we could shoot the puck around.
If he plays hockey, and he probably does, I could even show up at a team practice.
That would probably blow his prepubescent mind.
“I think it’s so great that you're doing this, Ben. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks, Bug.”
“Let me know how it goes?”
“Will do. Let me know what kind of dog you’re getting.”
“I will,” she laughs before ending the call.