Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
ISLA
“Get in, bitch,” Summer says, pointing to her car. “I’m driving.”
I yawn so hard that my vision blurs with tears before pulling the door open. It’s four thirty in the morning, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to waking up this early.
Summer’s car smells like a tropical paradise—kind of fitting, considering her name. But while it smells good in here, she is an incredibly scary driver, so I make sure to fasten my seat belt as tight as I can while she backs out of the driveway.
Turning the music up louder, she sings along, and I can’t help myself when I reach for the volume dial and turn it down.
“I don’t get how you’re so freaking chipper in the morning.” I rub my eyes. “These practices literally kill me. I mean, once I’m there, I’m fine. But when my alarm goes off? And when I have to actually ride over to the arena? It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open.”
“It’s called crack; you should try some,” she deadpans, keeping her expression as serious as a heart attack before she starts laughing.
“I’m joking, gawd. What do you think, I want to get kicked off the team?
” She shakes her head. “I just like mornings. It’s when I feel like my mind is at its clearest.”
“Next, I’m going to find out you’re a serial killer or something,” I grumble, earning me another laugh.
I expect her to crank the music back up, but instead, she glances from the road to me quickly, wearing an amused smirk.
“Also, why didn’t you tell me about your dinner date after the game the other night?” She keeps her eyes fixated on the road. “We all wondered where you’d run off to. Now I find out it was with Hendrix Hunt—the hot guy you swore was your nemesis.”
My body tenses, and I prop my head against my hand with my elbow pushed up against the window.
“It just happened.” I pause, suddenly more awake as I think about what happened when my back was against his truck a few nights ago. “Wait … how did you find out?”
“Well, I should have found out from you because I thought we were besties,” she sasses. “But instead, I had to find out, like … twenty minutes ago when I was scrolling socials.”
My stomach drops, and quickly, I reach forward to grab my phone from my bag. I didn’t see anyone in the parking lot with us, but what if pictures of what we did got out?
No. You’re being paranoid. If Summer saw that type of photos, she would have said.
I quickly search socials for any tagged photos, and sure as shit … there’s a picture of me and Hendrix at dinner. I scroll down and find another, only this one is us in the hallway at the arena.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I swear, chewing my lip. “My dad is going to kill me.”
Her gaze swings to me for a split second. “Oh fuck. I forgot that you’re, like, practically royalty in the hockey world and everything gets documented.” She thinks for a moment. “Why would your dad kill you though?”
Throwing my phone back in my bag, I sigh, looking out the window. “Because my dad is fully aware of who Hendrix Hunt is—that’s why.”
And because I don’t want to talk—or think about my dad or Hendrix anymore—I lean forward, turning up the music so loud that even if Summer does speak, I won’t be able to hear her.
I walk out of the women’s locker room and down the hall, but before I have a chance to make it out of the hallway, Cade steps out of his office.
Right away, I can see the concern on his face, and I’m sure it’s because he’s either seen the pictures of me and his problem player online or because my dad has called him too.
Like he hasn’t stopped calling me for the past hour.
“Heads-up, I: your dad is, uh … well.” He stops, swallowing, “Guess he saw the pictures of you and Hunt and …” He cringes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s not happy. And that’s putting it lightly.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” I huff out, tipping my chin upward and trying not to pout. “Cade, we went to dinner. That was it.” Definitely didn’t do anything in the parking lot against his truck. Nope. Nothing at all.
As everyone else passes by us, I stand beside him and wait to see what he says back. Cade Huff is like family. And just like all of my dad’s other best friends, he’s protective.
“It’s not really my business, Isla,” he utters.
“But I can tell you this: you need to be careful. He’s got demons, kid.
And I’m not so sure you need to help him battle those while you’ve already got so much going on yourself.
” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly, not in an angry way, but more of a thoughtful way.
“You’re the new star goalie at a D1 college.
You are proving to everyone why you deserve to be here, and you’re earning your degree in nursing. Don’t let a boy fuck that up, kiddo.”
“It was one dinner, Cade.” I practically hiss the words out of pure frustration. We may have taken it too far when he dropped me off, but I didn’t even give the guy my phone number, for fuck’s sake. “Literally … one. Dinner.”
He eyes me over suspiciously before, finally, he sighs. “All right, well … you’d best go call your old man. He’s on a whole other level of mad than I’ve seen him before. And I love him—you know I do—but I don’t need him showing up here, causing a scene.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Sorry to put you in this situation, Uncle Cade.”
His expression softens, just like I knew it would. He’s Cade. He doesn’t stay mad for long, and he’s one of the most understanding men I’ve ever met in my life. Throwing his arm around me, he gives me a side hug.
“You’re a good kid, Isla.” Releasing me, he jerks his chin toward the exit. “Go on. Get out of here. You had an early morning.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, flashing him a tiny smile. Then I take off to catch up with Summer before she leaves.
Luckily, when I push through the doors, she’s just finishing gabbing with a random group of guys and sees me coming as they all strut off.
“Can you take my gear home?” I say, reaching her before we both walk toward her car. “I have a phone call I need to make, and let’s just say … I don’t think you want to hear it.” I grimace, patting my hand to my chest. “I don’t even want to hear it, to be honest.”
“Ooh … Daddy Cam found out, didn’t he?” She’s somewhere between a cringe and a chuckle before she hits a button on her key fob, and the trunk opens. “We just had practice, and that’s at least a two-mile walk. I can wait for you; I don’t mind.”
Dropping my gear bag into her trunk, I take my phone out of my small tote and put that beside it before shaking my head. “It’s all good. Something tells me I’ll need some quiet after the call ends. I’ll see you at home.”
After she waves, I start walking, and even though I don’t want to call my dad back right now, he’s called six times and sent eight text messages in the past hour.
I know him enough to know that if I don’t answer him now, he’s just going to drive the hour and a half and show up here, which would be way, way worse.
Once I’m on the quiet sidewalk, I hover my finger over his contact, but before I even have to force myself to hit the Call button, he’s calling me again, and after a few seconds … I hit Accept.
“Dad, this is your seventh call in an hour,” I utter into the phone. “That’s excessive. Even for you.”
“Hendrix Hunt, Isla?” he practically barks at me. “Hendrix fucking Hunt? Do you realize he just got kicked out of Casco Bay College in Maine for fighting? And that was after they gave him, like, ten chances!”
“Relax, it’s not like we’re dating,” I say nonchalantly, hoping that’ll calm him down. “Also, I cannot believe you called Cade. That’s incredibly overbearing, Dad.”
“Well, you could have fooled me with those pictures I saw online, I!” He’s pacing, and I can hear the worry in his voice—thinking that I’m in a relationship with the campus bad boy.
“Those ones outside of the arena, his hand is on your waist. I don’t know what you kids do these fucking days, but if my hand is on someone’s waist, it sure as hell means something. ”
“Did it when you were my age though, Dad?” I toss back, knowing I’m being a little snot right now. “Because from what I’ve heard … you had your hands on a lot of women’s waists when you were in college.”
That stuns him, but of course, he recovers quickly. “We’re not talking about me, damn it!” He drags in a breath so fast. “He’s bad news, Isla. I’m telling you, I know things about that guy that you don’t. And it’s not good either.”
“Let me guess, from your time working with Uncle Brody’s foundation, you now know things.”
“How did you—”
“I’m not stupid, Dad, and there’s this thing called the internet, where I can find shit like … who Brody chooses for his scholarships.” I shake my head, walking alone and probably looking like a crazy person. “We aren’t dating, but if we were, you know what I’d tell you?”
“What?” he grumbles.
I think about my words before saying them because I want to get them right.
I know he has a point. Hendrix isn’t a guy I should be getting involved with—and I don’t even know the full extent of what he’s done.
But I also don’t like how my dad is acting, especially given how many of his closest friends have checkered pasts.
“I would ask you, what if Aunt Haley never gave Cade a chance when he was a full-blown drug addict and she was going to have his baby, not knowing if he was going to be able to stay sober or not? Or what if Bria ran away from Brody when she found out that his past was downright ugly?” I pause, swallowing.
“Or what about if you listened to Papa when he told you to stay away from Mom just because he knew you were the campus fuckboy?” I cringe. “Excuse my language.”