Chapter 17
FIFI
“Sofia? What the—” Daniel stops me. He’s grown a lot since I’ve last seen him. It’s hard to believe he’s a junior in high school now, and from what I’ve heard, a star player on their hockey team. Of course he is. He’s one of the Jennings brothers, and aren’t they all?
“I…” I have no explanation. “Don’t say anything,” I whisper as I watch him puzzle it out, his eyes widening as he comes to the conclusion that I’m here for Trick.
“Don’t say anything? What exactly are you hiding?”
He holds onto my shoulders with a solid grip, not about to let me get out of this. But I remain silent even in the face of his accusing eyes.
“Never mind,” he says. “Your silence tells me everything. You’re with Trick.” He shakes his head.
“It’s not a crime. We—”
“What the hell? Are you crazy? It may not be a crime for anyone else, but it sure as hell is a crime for you. I’m not even talking about Trick being in the shit house with Dad and Gramps; I’m talking about you.”
“I appreciate your concern.” I really do, and I take a breath full of trepidation.
“It’ll be okay. Just let me and Trick handle this.
Don’t tell anyone. Not yet.” He’s silent for a beat and frowning, clearly mixed and unsure what to do.
Guilt twists my insides because I know Trick wouldn’t like putting his youngest brother in this position.
He told me so himself. “How about if you give us… ” I think fast, looking ahead at our schedules, classes, and most importantly, hockey games. “Six weeks—”
“No way in hell. I’m going to have a hard time looking Dad in the eye knowing… whatever.”
“Three weeks. Please.” I can feel myself crumbling, poise disappearing along with all my great hopes for a blissful semester spending time together laughing and strengthening our bond slip away to a thread, barely a whisper in a thunderstorm.
“Then what? What are you going to do? Confess to your dad that you’re seeing Patrick Jennings? Because that might trigger a violent reaction in at least one of your brothers based on what I’ve seen in today’s game.”
“I’ll let Trick decide what he says and to whom. But I don’t expect you to keep the secret from your family forever if you can give me three weeks.”
He removes his hands from my shoulders as the crowd around the locker room buzzes to life.
“I need to see what’s happening.” He gives me one last stare, and for some reason, I’m confident he’ll make a promise and do as I ask.
“I’ll keep your secret for three weeks. You have my word.”
He takes off at a run, weaving through the crowd like a running back carving through a defense, and I wish I were right behind him, running to see Trick, to see for myself that he’s okay.