Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
APRIL
Sweat drips down my nose and plops against the open collar of my jumper. I mindlessly brush my knuckles against my forehead and keep inspecting the spark plug for a solution.
I could coat the tips with engine oil or…
Hey, Tink. You really shouldn’t be working so hard.
I push Chance’s imaginary voice out of my head.
I could replace one of the tips with a new plug that I know is working…
Have you taken a break yet, Tink?
Ergh! I toss the wrench back in the toolbox and it lands against my treasured scanner with a clang! Grabbing a dirty rag, I wipe off each of my fingers, scrubbing them as if I’m scrubbing Chance out of my brain.
Sadly, I’m unsuccessful at both forgetting Chance and getting the stains off my nails.
Ever since I read about him and Fina, I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s like my brain is stuck on a bad song. Like I’m running as fast as I can, but I’ve landed in quicksand.
I don’t know why I’m like this. Chance’s latest scandal is proof that holding him at arm’s length is the right decision. Women will always flock to him. He’s the Chance McLanely—a Beast and a Beauty on the ice. With his Prince Eric hair, his eyes the color of a midnight ocean, his warm, inviting personality…
Gosh! Why is it so hot?
I undo the top of my mechanic jumper and shimmy out of the sleeves. As the jumper peels away, the sleeves land against the bumper of the car. I stare at the sleeves, recalling the last time my jumper was trapped in the hood.
Take it off. Chance had said, his eyes a deep, dark blue.
Prickles run up my skin.
My heart pounds.
I slam my fist against my chest. “Behave.”
Chance-related adrenaline spikes are not allowed.
Thinking of him is not allowed either.
I keep working until the engine in front of me starts to blur. Setting aside the wrench, I straighten, plant my hands on my hips and stretch my back. Spine-cracking sounds fill the garage.
“You should take one of those ancestry tests,” Rebel says, walking up to me with a popsicle extended.
I spin to face my best friend. “Huh?”
“Check your DNA. You might be part bubble wrap.”
I muster up a smile for her as I accept the popsicle.
Rebel jerks her chin at the door of the garage and walks steadfastly toward the coffee station there. I follow her and plop into the chair around a pretty metal table. Rebel’s latest needle-work—two wonky rose-shaped coasters—decorate the metal top.
“Why is it so hot lately?” I whine, pulling at my white tank top. “You’d think we were welders instead of mechanics.”
Rebel eyes me, saying nothing.
I squirm under her steady gaze. “Why are you staring?”
“What’s your deal, Brooks?”
“I don’t understand the question?” The popsicle wrapping rips away easily and I go to town on the cold delight.
“Chance called me. He wanted to know if you were okay.”
“Really?” I say as casually as I can.
“Are you ignoring his calls?”
“Did he say that?”
“He didn’t have to.” Rebel tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Why would he be calling me if he could reach you?”
“I’m not ignoring him. I just… told him I’m busy and I’d rather we keep in touch through text.”
“Are you responding to his texts then?” Rebel grills me.
I clear my throat. “When I have the time.”
She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “April, I love you, but sometimes, I could just…” She makes a squeezing motion towards my neck.
I press a hand there, turning slightly away.
“Do you really believe Chance is seeing Fina behind your back?” Rebel demands.
I choke on a chunk of tangerine-flavored ice.
Not even a flicker of mercy crosses Rebel’s face as she watches me fight for my life. It’s like she wants me to die a violent death for ignoring Chance.
“I showed you what happened on the cameras.” She arches a perfectly trimmed brow. “Do you need me to re-send the video from that night?”
“No,” I mumble, wiping the corner of my lips.
A few days ago, when the gossip sites started whispering about Chance and Fina, Rebel flew into a righteous rage.
“I’m going to expose that cheating, lying, backside of a camel for who he really is! ” she ranted.
Rebel stormed off on her valiant quest for the truth, only to return with a sheepish frown and footage from The Tipsy Tuna exposing that:
(a) Chance barely talked to any of the cheerleaders we saw that night;
(b) the cheerleader who’d pounced on him for a hug had done so without invitation and was quickly brushed off by Chance.
“He was innocent,” Rebel says, as if I need the reminder. “I can’t vouch for him on any other night, but that time, he did what a guy who respects and cares for his girlfriend is supposed to do.”
“I know,” I say quietly, setting the popsicle down on the open wrapper.
“Then why are you being like this?” Rebel wrinkles her nose. “From that short phone call, I could tell that Chance is losing his mind not talking to you. And you don’t look that great not talking to him either. It’s obvious you both like each other and so far, he hasn’t shown himself to be a cheating scumbag like Evan. So what gives?”
“I… I don’t know how to explain it.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and sasses, “ Try me.”
The words in my head rush too fast and I’m not sure how to present them in a way that she’ll understand. Rebel has always been beautiful and confident around men. On their part, men have always been attracted to her.
Every time I mention my insecurities around her, she scolds me or tells me to have more confidence. As if I can just shimmy on down to the confidence store and buy another bottle of good ole’ self-esteem.
“Is there some other piece of information that I’m not aware of?” Rebel insists. “Did you catch Chance flirting with girls while he was with you? Did he make eyes at a waitress in front of you? Did he hide his phone when you walked in the room? Has he shown you any red flags?”
I dig my dirty nail into the loose thread of the coaster. “No.”
Rebel’s eyes narrow to slits. She leans forward, waiting for more.
“I do believe Chance is a good guy. I believe he was telling the truth when he said he hasn’t spoken to Fina. And the fact that I trust him that much after Evan is already such a giant surprise.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Rebel throws her hands high, an empty popsicle stick in hand.
“Right now, we’re just pretend. But the closer we become…” I trail off. “Dating Chance McLanely comes with the price of sharing him with the world,” I admit quietly. “I can’t do that again. Unknowingly sharing my ex-boyfriend with my hairdresser was hard enough. I don’t want to share Chance with all the crazy, possessive fans chasing him around at every game. I don’t want to date someone who’ll constantly get nasty messages and late-night invitations from models and socialites. I know who I am and I know that it would drive me insane no matter how much I like him.”
Rebel sighs. “I guess I can see that.”
“Chance is a great guy. And maybe… if things were different…”
Her eyes fill with compassion. “Different how?”
“If he were a normal guy who moved to town, just another farmer or coal miner or cowboy…” I shrug because it’s a foolish exercise. Chance is the farthest thing from a normal Joe. “The problem isn’t him, Rebel. It’s me. I’m too broken to handle everything that comes with his fame and hockey career.”
A cool hand covers mine and Rebel says, “That’s what you decided?”
I hesitate to nod. “It’s a choice I wish I could make.”
“What does that mean?” she asks softly.
“I thought all the feelings would go away.” My heart thumps harder in my chest. “It didn’t. Despite telling myself it won’t work and that I’m only setting myself up for pain, something’s changed. The more I tell myself all the reasons I can’t have him…” Tears shimmer in my eyes as I admit, “the more I want him anyway.”
Rebel chuckles through her own tears. “Is this why women date bad boys we know aren’t good for us? Do we all suffer from the same temporary insanity?”
I smile despite all the rolling emotions in my gut.
Just then, I hear May’s voice and the cheerful bbbbrrriing! of her bike bell. Stones and sand scatter as my little sister skates her bike to a stop in front of the open garage door. She hops off and runs to me, her chest heaving.
“May?” I jump to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Chance,” she heaves for breath, “viral video…” Another gasp. “Online.”
“What?” Rebel bends her head to hear May better.
I leap forward, already imagining the worst. “What happened to Chance?”
“Just. Watch!” May shoves her phone at me and then collapses into an exhausted heap on the floor.