Chapter Forty-Eight
Forty-eight
Kian
Something smacks me on the back of my head, and I groan from my fetal position on the couch.
It’s a stuffed animal that Dylan tossed at me from the archway.
He lifts the needle of my record player, which I brought downstairs after getting tired of climbing the steps.
Shania Twain’s smooth voice stops abruptly.
Dylan’s standing there, wearing a thin sweater, probably one his girlfriend knit for him. The dainty smiley face bracelet dangles on his wrist, and he’s got a big grin on his dumb face. He’s covered in all things Sierra, and all that does is jam a Scarlett-scented arrow into my heart.
I turn back into the couch cushions. “Can you not bring all your positivity in here right now?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dylan says, still sounding too cheery.
I sit up to glare at him. “That smile. Your eyes. You’re practically glowing.” I scrunch my face. “Ugh, I’m happy for you.”
“You don’t look it. We heard you groaning out here, and as much as I told Sierra you were also like this when you couldn’t get that limited-edition vinyl, she insisted I come talk to you.” He steps closer, and points at the scarf around my neck. “Though, that is different.”
I groan again. “It smells like her.”
Dylan sighs, sitting on the coffee table in front of me. “So, you’re telling me you’re okay with Kilner dragging your ass through drill after drill and putting you on laundry duty while still doing all your captain duties, but his daughter is where you’ll draw the line?”
I had practice earlier today. Coach did not give it to me easy, and I expected it.
We have a game tomorrow; it’s the last one before the end of semester, so we have to win.
Coming off a losing college team to play for the NHL isn’t a good look, so I need the team to have my back.
We finally got our lines settled, which means Sebastian is back on first line, and I can hear the end of that.
“His daughter is the one drawing the line.”
I know she’s scared, so I’ve been giving her some space. I know she’s still mine, I just need to remind her of that.
“Then erase it,” he says simply. “You have to tell her what you want.”
“I know that. I just need to figure out how. Should I rent a plane?”
“For what?”
“Skywriting,” I tell him. “Oh! Or in flowers on the parking lot outside her dorm. Or play it in a theater—”
“Kian,” he stops me. “Forget about all the shit you think you know and talk to the girl.”
“Right. I can do that,” I say, though there’s a pit in my stomach that’s been there since I talked to Coach. I don’t know if he’ll ever come around. “Since when did you become wise? That’s supposed to be me.”
He shrugs. Then Summer walks in, staring between the two of us. “What’s going on? Are you gossiping without me?”
“No way, Sunny, it was just time for some Big D wisdom,” he says, stretching out, making his biceps bulge in the process. Summer rolls her eyes, then glances at my scarf.
“He’s upset about Scarlett, so you told him to talk to her instead of doing something grandiose.” She crosses her arm, all smug as she stares at a deflated Dylan. “Did I guess it?”
“All right, don’t get cocky or I won’t treat you guys to Lola’s,” he says.
It doesn’t take much convincing for all of us to change and head out there.
We order the entire menu; Dylan doesn’t mind, he’s too busy stabbing his fork in pancakes and feeding them to his girlfriend, like that’s his sole purpose in life.
He stays glued to her side, whispering things in her ear, arm looped protectively around her waist.
“Hello? Some of us are miserable and sulking. No need to rub it in. Right, Sunny?”
Summer glances up from her phone, a light blush on her cheeks, and I notice she’s texting Aiden. Of course she is. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“That’s it, I’m out.” I shove myself out of the booth so fast my knee slams the table. They protest, telling me I’m being dramatic, but I ignore them. Milkshake in hand, I head out into the fresh air and away from the suffocating love fest inside.
I’m not jealous. I love love, and I’m happy that my friends have it. I just hate that mine is currently on pause.
The thought barely settles before something warm brushes my ankle.
A soft, motor-like purr hums at my feet.
I find a tiny kitten licking the dripping milkshake off the floor, its whiskers rubbing against me.
I crouch, trying to find a collar, but it doesn’t have one. It doesn’t look like a stray either.
I let him have the rest of my milkshake, his tiny pink tongue lapping it up quickly. He doesn’t seem lost, but I can’t place how he even got here.
Seeing him reminds me of Marty, the lizard I adopted in freshman year. We had to give him away to the Nature Center.
If I stay a second longer, I know what will happen, so I step away, but the kitten follows me. My heart gives out, and I pick him up. He’s got missing whiskers, and a little notch on his ear.
Every time I pet him, he purrs. “Wanna come home with me, Whiskers?”
I’m about to head back in when someone calls my name. I recognize the voice immediately, and as if sensing my fear, Whiskers burrows closer.
“Coach?”
“We need to talk,” he says, ignoring the kitten I’ve got on my shoulder.
“How’d you know I was here?”
He ignores that. “My daughter is miserable because of you. The girl’s not even interested in studying. I’ve seen her staring out her window for hours. You did that to her.”
My heart teeters off a ledge. “Coach, I—”
He stops me. “I don’t need an explanation. All I know is that you’re going to fix it. She said you were just friends now, but I don’t buy it. That’s my Rosie, and I’ve loved that girl since the first day I saw her. I don’t want to see her upset, even if that means it’s you she wants.”
I blink at him. I never planned on letting her go, but knowing she wouldn’t feel guilty now that Kilner isn’t planning to murder me lifts a weight off my chest. It makes me desperate to see her.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he mutters, that vein popping out again. “Give me a hug, Ish—Kian.”
It’s like he completely surrenders. All to make his daughter happy. I don’t hesitate to pull him in tight.
“You only get two of these per year,” he says.
“Two hugs? Nah, no way. We’re negotiating that.” I keep him there for six whole seconds.
He pulls away. “All right, but only if we win our last game.”
“Deal.”
“See you at practice, son,” he says before walking back to his car.
Son. He called me son.
I’m frozen in shock until I hear Summer call for me.
“Finally talked to Coach?” Dylan smirks when I make my way to the car. Then it clicks that he must have told Coach I was here. Of course he did.
“Kian,” Sierra says slowly, eyes tracking the bundle in my arms, “why are you holding a cat?”
Dylan shakes his head, knowing me too well. “What did you name him?”