Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
ISLA
I keep my duffel bag of crap slung over my shoulder, kind of thankful that I’m about to meet up with a fellow hockey player because this bag and what’s inside of it smells like absolute dirty ass.
I can’t believe I agreed to go to dinner with Hendrix tonight, but here I am, showered and heading to the entrance to meet him. But before even making it to the lobby, I spot him, sitting on a bench, waiting for me.
As if he senses my presence, he looks up from his phone. His dark hair falls annoyingly, perfectly messy. Just like always. And the second our eyes meet, he’s off the bench, strutting toward me.
I had no hair dryer or makeup. I’m sure the women he usually takes out on dates dress up in their fancy, tight clothes and are perfectly styled. But I guess it’s better that I don’t look my best because then he’ll leave me alone after this date.
“Holy shit,” he says suddenly, eyes wide and looking around like a crazy person. “Did I die? Do pigs fly? Did hell freeze over?”
Eyeing him over suspiciously, I hike my heavy bag up tighter on my shoulder. “Um …”
“Because Isla Hardy is here, ready to go on a date with me,” he says, acting stunned. “I figured you had snuck out the back door and were clear across campus by now, Nineteen.”
Unable to help myself, I roll my eyes, though he does earn a small smirk too.
“Trust me, I tried. But the back door was locked. Had no other way out.” I shrug. “Also, it’s not a date, hotshot.”
“First of all,” he muses, “it is a date. And second … you don’t have to lie. I know you’re mildly obsessed with me now. I’ll bet you were even naming our babies while you were showering, weren’t you? Do me a favor and at least let me choose the dog’s name.”
I scowl, and my mouth hangs open. “What?” I practically screech. “You are such an idiot.”
Reaching forward, he tugs my bag from my shoulder and puts it on his own before he steps next to me and slings his free arm over my shoulders.
“It’s okay, Nineteen. I did the same thing earlier, right before I fucked my hand,” he murmurs beside my ear.
“I’m thinking two, maybe three kids. But you know …
we can negotiate that later. As for the dog thing, maybe just one family dog.
Like a golden retriever or something. On our Christmas cards, we can put a red bandana on him. ”
For a moment, I stare at him. This is the playful side of Hendrix. I’ve met so many versions of him that I can hardly keep up. There’s the downright mean one. The sexy one. The sweet one. The slightly psychotic one. And now … this jokester one.
“You’re actually insane,” I utter, knowing nothing this man says should surprise me by now. “Like, a true, certifiable nutjob.”
His smirk only grows, and so does the humor in his eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s part of what draws you in, isn’t it?” he drawls, and when he’s met with silence, he only tucks me closer against his body. “It’s all right, Nineteen. No need to be ashamed.”
When he releases his hold on me to pull the door open and motions for me to walk through, I point at him.
“But no funny business, okay? Dinner, as friends. No … not even friends. Just two people eating food. Got it? So, don’t try to kiss me.
No being a perv—well, more than you already have been tonight. Deal?”
“Sure. Yeah. Whatever you say.” He chuckles. “Now, come on, would you? It’s time to get you fed, babe. Because after the game you just played, you deserve it.”
Reluctantly, I pass by him, frowning every step of the way. Because I thought I had him figured out, but now … I’m not even sure.
And that’s the scary thing about guys like Hendrix. Their game is so good that, soon, I won’t even be able to figure out what’s genuine and what isn’t.
HENDRIX
“Thank you. How … gentlemanlike of you,” Isla says with a little grin while I hold the door and she walks out of the restaurant.
She was adorable during dinner because after the game she just played, she was hungry.
And for some reason, I loved watching her stuff her face and guzzle down a milkshake.
I have no idea where she puts it all, but the girl can eat.
And I love that she didn’t give a fuck about trying to impress me with eating a salad or something healthy either.
It’s nearing the end of September in New England.
Sometimes, that means it’s going to be eighty degrees; other times, it will be thirty.
Or my all-time favorite is when you need the heat on in the mornings and air-conditioning by the afternoon.
But tonight is one of those nights that it’s just windy enough to make it seem colder than it actually is.
As we walk along the sidewalk, she shivers, and without thinking twice, I peel my NEU hoodie off and hand it to her.
Looking down at my hand, she shakes her head. “Oh, thanks, but that’s okay. I’m fine.” She holds her arms out. “I have a long-sleeved shirt on, and you only have a T-shirt. You wear it.”
I stop right in the middle of the sidewalk, narrowing my eyes and stepping toward her.
“Guess I’ll have to put it on for you, huh?”
I lift it over her head before slowly pulling it down over her shoulders. She gives me an annoyed look—or tries to, but the little smirk on her lips proves she’s not really bothered.
“There you go,” I say as she pokes her arms through, and I reach into the neck and pull her hair out of the opening, making it spill over her shoulders.
Suddenly, she’s looking up at me, all shy-like, biting her lip.
“Thanks,” she whispers, swallowing. “I’ll admit … this is better.”
“Good.” I practically rasp the word, like the desperate fucker I am.
This girl makes my mind go crazy when she’s near me. Hell, even when she isn’t … she’s still all I can think about.
As we slowly turn away from each other and start walking, I want to take her hand and hold it while we head back to the truck.
I want to grab ahold of her, push her back up against a streetlamp, and kiss her—among other things that would definitely get us arrested for doing in public. But it would still be worth it.
We share a few glances, both smiling awkwardly, and when we reach my truck, I open the door for her, trying not to look at her ass as she climbs into the passenger seat.
Closing the door, I jog around to the driver’s side. I fight back a shiver, not wanting her to feel bad for wearing my hoodie.
I don’t want to take her home, but when she yawns, I know it’s the right thing to do.
“Thank you for dinner,” Isla says, turning toward me slightly once we reach the arena and I pull up beside her Jeep. “It was fun.”
“Fun?” I gasp. “Did number nineteen just tell me she had fun with me? Say it again so that I can record it, would you?”
She fights back a laugh and shakes her head.
“Shut up. Don’t make it a big deal.” She grows somber, her eyebrows tugging together slightly.
“Hey … it’s okay if you don’t want to answer, but I just wondered …
” She stops, her hands fidgeting. “You said your sister used to get panic attacks. And I didn’t know … does she still get them now? Or …”
Unable to stop myself, I tense slightly.
It’s not Isla’s fault for asking about Lilly.
She doesn’t know that one of the things that makes me hold on to this deep, dark anger inside of me is the guilt I feel for not knowing where my sister is.
Or feeling like I abandoned her because when I went to juvie, she was left alone for the state to take.
Everything in me wants to shut this conversation down because that’s what I always do when something makes me feel like this.
But when I look at Isla, for whatever fucked-up reason, I don’t want to be a dick to her.
“I’m not really sure,” I say honestly. “I haven’t seen my sister in a few years.
I’m not sure where she is or how she’s doing.
” I have to stop talking and swallow as emotion creeps up the back of my throat.
And because I am who I am, my body grows rigid, and I come off like a complete dick, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.
I can’t look at Isla anymore when I see the sympathy in her eyes, so I look forward instead. Every part of me is turning ice cold just at the mention of my little sister. I know I can’t forget my past or my mistakes, but when I’m with Isla, for a little while, I escape it all.
Until right now.
“I’m sorry, Hendrix,” she whispers softly. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t … I wasn’t thinking.”
My body grows rigid, making my head abruptly ache. Shame fills my being because she shouldn’t be saying sorry to me.
“All good, Nineteen. No worries,” I reassure her.
Even with my eyes facing forward, I can feel her watching me. I hate to end the night like this, but here I am, suddenly in a fucking funk.
“Well, I guess I should head home,” she says, reaching for the handle and making the lights come on inside the cab.
I turn my head to look at her, my heart skipping a fucking beat when I see her in my hoodie in the light.
My eyes drink her in, and she nervously looks down at herself.
“Oh, I’ll give this back to you.”
Her fingers hook around the bottom, but I stop her.
“That’s okay. I’ve got others,” I say, not wanting her to take it off. A part of me feels like she’s mine when she’s wearing it. “Looks better on you anyway.”
Her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, but she drops her hands down.
“Good night, Hendrix.” She smiles. “Thank you for dinner.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” I say lowly, pushing my own door open.
“It’s literally right beside your truck.” She giggles. “But … okay.”
Ignoring her, I walk to the other side of the truck just as she’s stepping down.
In the dark, we stand here, looking at each other, and it’s all I can do not to kiss her.
I want to so fucking badly that it actually hurts, but after she heard what Jameson said in the hallway, I don’t want her to think that I’m only after one thing when it comes to her.