Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Renthrow
“Dude, where’s your head at? You completely missed that pass!” Theilan skates past, mean-mugging me through his helmet.
Up ahead, Watson throws both hands up in a what-the-heck gesture.
I come back to the moment and realize I’ve been out of position. Talk about embarrassing.
“Go, Daddy!” Gordie screams from the stands. “Go, Uncle Theilan! You can do it!”
Theilan waves to my daughter and then grumbles, “Get it together, man.”
The younger player takes off after the puck when Chance drives it down the line. I follow, forcing myself to remain focused on the game.
Chance tries to get creative with the play, and it doesn’t pay off. Theilan steals the puck and takes off like a gunshot. I skate to the block, racing to situate myself for the pass.
The puck shoots straight to me, and I quicken my pace to get there before everyone else. Then I pass back to Theilan and keep moving until I’m closer to where Gordie’s sitting.
She’s in the stands with my mom, Rebel, April, a few other friends. Some locals who heard about the scrimmage and had nothing better to do wandered in too.
Miss Potts is also here for reasons I don’t really care to know.
But there’s one glaringly empty seat.
As I skate, I check around the stadium. Maybe I missed her. Maybe she’s tucked into a dark corner—Bobby only flipped on the lights over the arena.
“Yo, Renthrow!”
The puck comes sailing toward me, fast. I instinctively move my stick, but it doesn’t deflect where I need it to. The puck hits the board behind me with a smack that makes my entire team groan.
“Tell the truth, are you trying to sabotage us?” Theilan demands as he skates up to me. “Chance is messing up his plays on purpose, and so are you, right?”
He’s wrong. Chance isn’t messing up his plays. He’s trying a new technique.
Both Gunner and Chance are on the opposing team, and they’re moving with more swagger than strategy. It’s a friendly game, and everyone is experimenting.
And I…
I’m not playing badly on purpose, but it’s like my eyes have a will of their own. Why isn’t Cordelia here yet?
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I mumble.
“And what? You think I don’t have my own crap to worry about? I’m taking this seriously,” Theilan snaps. “And you let the puck bounce against your skates. Twice. So are you with us or not?”
“I’m with you,” I say, feeling chastised.
The sound of hockey sticks fighting for the puck breaks our two-man huddle. Up ahead, our teammates commandeer the puck.
The party’s coming back to us.
I skate ahead. “Focus on the game.”
“You first,” Theilan snaps, and then he moves to intercept.
I breathe out, watching the cloud of ice escape my mouth.
Focus, focus.
It does nothing.
My body’s here, but my heart isn’t.
That’s no excuse.
I’m the one who convinced Theilan and the rest of the team to join the scrimmage. The least I can do is not play halfheartedly.
It takes a bit of warming up—and at one point, I almost skate into the goal post when I see someone who looks like Cordelia in the stands—but I find my focus eventually.
The game goes on for an impressively long time. In the end, Chance and Gunner take the win, but our team only lost by a point. That’s not bad.
I pat Theilan on the back as the other team celebrates. I saw how much of his heart and soul was left on the ice. He had something to prove, and he proved it.
I pat Watson too. “That blocker save was impressive, man.”
“Thanks, but what’s up with you?” Watson’s eyes float to the crowd. “You too distracted by your girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” I spin around, looking for Cordelia. “Where?”
Watson points at Miss Potts.
I scowl.
Theilan notices my reaction and jokes, “That’s not his girl. It’s that pretty new mechanic with the bike, remember?”
Watson laughs loudly.
Theilan grins from ear to ear.
We lost, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by the smiles on their faces. I can relate. Hockey isn’t for everyone, but for those who understand, there’s nothing like getting on the ice. Inviting Theilan and Watson to a scrimmage was the right call.
“I heard she was dating that guy from out of town?” Watson pulls off his helmet. “Everyone said they looked good together.”
My scowl gets darker.
Theilan nudges Watson and points at me, laughing. “You made him mad.”
“You two gossip more than my mother,” I grumble, skating away.
The guys chase after me.
“I heard Brennon was supposed to be on Chance’s team today. What happened?” Theilan asks.
I shrug.
Watson peels off his gloves. “He’s not here, and the new mechanic isn’t here either. Maybe they’re together.”
“They’re not together,” I snap, glaring at each of them.
Theilan chuckles.
Watson lifts his hands in a “my bad” apology.
Up ahead, Chance is close to the boards, blowing April kisses through the glass.
Gunner is staring at Rebel, and she’s giving him a flirty wink.
I wave to Gordie and notice Miss Potts waving at me too.
Instantly, I drop my hand and skate off, wondering for the millionth time why Cordelia isn’t here.
Watson made a good point earlier, and it’s been niggling at the corner of my brain.
The only person Brennon knows in town—apart from Max—is Cordelia.
They were together yesterday and would have spent more time together if I hadn’t interrupted them.
Are they together today? Is that why neither of them is here?
“Are you pouting because your lady friend ghosted?” Theilan asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
I pretend not to hear and sit on the bench to take off my skates.
Chance is there too. “Renthrow has a lady friend?”
“Ignore them.”
Theilan laughs.
Chance juts his chin toward the stands. “Is it Gordie’s teacher?”
I take off my skates, grab my Hello Kitty towel to wipe my face, and stalk to the locker room.
Theilan joins me. “Miss Potts is hot. I approve.”
I give Theilan the stink-eye.
“What? I bet Gordie would be psyched if you dated her teacher.” Theilan opens his old locker unconsciously.
“Miss Potts is the better choice,” Watson agrees, entering the locker room too. Like Theilan, he automatically finds his old locker.
Theilan snorts. “I thought you were all about the mechanic?”
“She’s cute and all, but think about it. She’s a mechanic. She’s not the motherly type.”
Chance frowns, walking into the locker room. “Say what now?”
Gunner is right behind him. He cracks his knuckles. “Who said you can’t be motherly as a mechanic?”
I glare a hole into Watson’s face, daring him to stand down on that statement.
Watson raises both hands in surrender. “I just meant that the new mechanic,” he stresses, “rides that scary bike and wears all black and gets all weird around kids. She doesn’t seem like the type to bake cookies and braid hair and do other girly stuff.
Compare that to Miss Potts? She’s around kids twenty-four seven.
She knows exactly what they need. If you’re just thinking about Gordie, it’s a clear choice. ”
Gordie has already made her preferences clear, and it’s not Miss Potts for her either.
“It’s not just about Gordie, though,” Chance points out, taking his gym bag out of his locker. “What really matters is who Renthrow wants.”
The room goes silent, and the entire team turns to look questioningly at me.
“If you had to choose, who would you pick, Renthrow?”
I scowl at Theilan and reach for my Hello Kitty gym bag without answering.
“Come on. Don’t leave us in suspense,” Watson begs with a groan.
“He’d be crazy not to choose Miss Potts,” Theilan insists. “She’s a teacher, and she drives a car.”
Gunner tilts his head in question. “What does that have to do with it?”
“You can’t put a car seat on a bike.”
The team’s chatter fades in the background as I take out my phone and look for any messages from Cordelia.
There are no new messages.
Unease floats through my stomach. What if her not showing today had nothing to do with Brennon? What if she got into an accident on her bike? What if—right this minute—she’s at the bottom of a ravine, bleeding out or crying for help?
The fear that crowds my chest makes me feel like a noose is tightening around my neck.
Just then, a new message pops up.
Cordelia: Hey, Renthrow. Sorry I was late, but I saw the last piece of the game. It was fun. Tell Gordie I’ll sit with her next time.
I check the time stamp.
The game ended less than five minutes ago. It would take her two minutes to get to the exits, and if she stopped to send this text…
She could still be here.
“…So we all agree? We’re setting up Renthrow with Miss Potts?” Theilan is saying. “Renthrow, what do you think about—”
I drop my stick, my helmet, and my gym bag and take off like a shot through the door. I don’t stop until I get outside. I see Cordelia nudging her kickstand with the back of her boot and preparing to ride off.
“Cordelia!” I yell to be heard over her rumbling bike. “Cordelia!”
She sets one leg on the ground, causing the bike to lean a little. However, she doesn’t turn to look at me.
I approach her bike while studying her. Something seems off, but I can’t put a finger on it. Maybe it’s the fact that she hasn’t said a word to me? Or that she still has her helmet visor covering her eyes?
I don’t know what it is. But every time I’ve gotten this gut feeling, it’s steered me right.
The first time I felt this way, it was when Gordie was an infant. Something told me to get up and check on her. I found her shivering in her crib, her lips blue, and I had to rush her to the hospital.
The instinct isn’t a sure thing. Sometimes, I get it, and sometimes, I don’t—like that day when Gordie had her first episode. I didn’t sense a thing.
However, I have a hunch that I shouldn’t let Cordelia ride away alone.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a gentle voice, situating myself closer to her bike.
She nods.
“Can you stick around for a minute?” I grip the handle. “Gordie will want to see you.”
Cordelia hesitates, and then she shakes her head no.
I peer at her helmet.
“I’m really busy.” Her voice sounds scratchy, and when she brushes at my hand, I feel her slightly trembling. “Can you move back?”
I grip the handle tighter instead. “What’s wrong?”
“Please just move,” she begs.
My eyes drift over her. The need to mind my own business wars with the need to make sure she’s okay.
The bike jolts forward, grumbling in a threat as she takes her foot off the ground and puts slight pressure on the throttle. “I mean it, Renthrow. I won’t be responsible if I hurt you. Hands. Off.”
I’d normally listen. I don’t push myself where I’m not wanted, and if a lady asks for space, I believe one hundred percent that no means no.
But while Cordelia’s words are warding me off, her hand is on top of mine, holding on for dear life. She’s squeezing my fingers, and it keeps me there, holding that bike and not letting her speed away.
“No,” I say quietly.
The helmet jolts, and I can feel her staring at me through the tinted black visor.
I stare right back, seeing my reflection—damp hair that’s slightly curling from being in a helmet for hours. Sweat dotting my forehead and upper lip from the sun. The firm slant of my mouth.
“I’m here,” I say. “And I’m not letting go.”
Her chest moves up and down violently, and I notice for the first time that she’s not wearing her leather jacket.
She’s sitting atop her giant bike, an intimidating mesh of power and chrome. She’s wearing a big, black helmet like armor. But “armor” is all it is. She’s much softer beneath the battle gear.
“Cordelia,” I call her name softly.
The key clicks, and the rumble of the engine dies, leaving a sharp silence. Cordelia moves fluidly. One boot knocks the kickstand back in place while the other balances the bike.
I step back a little as she pulls her helmet off and looks at me defiantly. As if to say, Here, you wanted to see me? Fine!
The first thing I notice is that her eyes are red-rimmed.
My heart lurches out of my chest. “You were crying.”
It’s not a question.
She opens her mouth, probably to say something harsh to distract from the tears still shimmering on her thick eyelashes.
But I don’t give her a chance.
“Come here.” Reaching down, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her into my chest.