Chapter 18 #2
Kathleen says, “My, you’re on your way to a big career. What are you doing with the likes of my brother?” She turns to me. “Nothing personal, Patrick, but…” she shrugs.
“No problem. I ask her the same thing.”
Pammy blushes, and everyone else chuckles. Turns out I’m serious. As soon as we’re alone, I’m going to ask her what the heck she’s doing pretending to be my girlfriend.
I know I started it, but that was… for a minute, a one-time very short-term stint.
When breakfast is finally over, I excuse us from the table and take Pammy to my bedroom-turned-office off the kitchen to talk. I close the door, and I don’t care what Mom thinks. Shit. That’s not right. But she doesn’t say anything, and I figure she trusts me for a short visit with Pammy.
“Are you alright?” Pammy asks. “For real? I heard the concussion was bad—”
“I’m fine. What the—what are you doing here?” I take a couple of breaths and lower my voice. “Our girlfriend charade was supposed to be temporary.” Panic rises up my throat at the idea that she might think there’s something between us, bringing a return of my nausea with it.
Shit. This is exactly the kind of thing I’m supposed to avoid. No excitement. I give an inner snort. This is definitely the wrong kind of excitement.
“I know. That’s what I told her—”
“Told who? What’s this all about?”
Looking at Pammy again, I realize her hair is styled differently, long and loose with a wave of curls, and she’s wearing makeup.
I could swear I see eyeliner and mascara under her glasses.
Fuck, the tape on the bridge of her glasses is gone, and running my glance down, I realize she’s wearing jeans and a sweater that shows off her more than ample figure.
I hadn’t noticed her curves before. Shit.
“I was sent on a mission.”
“What the fuck are you talking about—pardon my French.”
Her face goes pink, and I lean forward, taking her hands in mine. “I’m sorry. Go ahead, take your time and tell me.” I concentrate on her face. It’s pretty.
“No need to apologize, Trick. You’re injured, and this is all so… crazy.”
I close my eyes against the urge to ask her what the hell this is and wait.
“Sofia sent me.” She stops, and my eyes pop open.
“What—”
“She called me—she found my name in the student directory, and she asked me if I would help her. Of course, I said I would. She sounded desperate, and when we met at her apartment, she was so sweet.”
“How is you showing up here saying you’re my girlfriend helping her exactly?” Maybe it’s my compromised mind, but I’m not connecting the dots.
Pammy pats my hands. “I’m getting to that. She told me about your unfortunate situation with your family’s, uh, feud? Mutual dislike?”
“Strong mutual dislike. Mostly it’s my Dad and Pops in my family, and in Fi—Sofia’s family, it’s her Dad and her older brother Frank who have the most dislike.”
She nods as if she gets it, and hell, she probably does because she’s smart and her brain is functioning fine right now. Unlike mine.
“I hope you’re not mad that Sofia told me—she thought you might—”
“No, no. I know we can trust you.”
“Absolutely.” She crosses her heart. “I think it’s a truly romantic story—except that it’s probably not ideal for you and Sofia.
Anyway, she wanted me to continue the charade as your girlfriend today for two reasons.
First, she wanted to find out how you’re doing and let you know how sorry she is about Vincent being a jerk.
I guess he has major jealousy over the disparity in hockey talent—you having all the talent and him having very little. ”
I smile, appreciating her sentiment. “You have a way with words, Pammy.”
She grins. “I try. Must be from reading all that poetry.” She winks.
I laugh.
“Are you allowed to laugh? I read that to recover from a concussion you need to avoid excitement.”
I take a breath because she’s not wrong, and that laugh did earn a sharp spike through my head.
“I’m fine. Go on.”
“The second reason was that she wanted to give your relationship with her some cover by having everyone think I’m your girlfriend.”
“Why does my relationship with Fifi need cover?” This isn’t making sense, though her words are giving me a low-level sense of dread.
She leans closer. “This is the bad part, and I don’t want to get you excited, and Fifi is so afraid you’re going to be upset with her—”
“What—”
“Your brother Daniel caught her down by the locker rooms, and long story short, he knows about you and Fifi, about your romance.”
“Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair, holding it against the increased pounding in my head.
“It’s okay. She made a deal with Daniel, and he’s agreed to keep it quiet for three weeks.”
“Then why the charade?” I don’t want to know. I want to close my eyes and go to sleep.
“She’s hoping to encourage Daniel to keep quiet maybe even longer.
Maybe even believe the charade. Though I told her that would make you look like a two-timer, and that’s if he buys the story.
She went to a lot of trouble to help me with make-up, hair, and clothes to legit look the part of your girlfriend. ”
“Are you telling me she expects us to carry on this charade… indefinitely?”
She nods. “I mentioned that might be a hurdle, though I’m perfectly prepared to play the part of a very undemanding girlfriend. We don’t have to go out much or—”
“Go out much? Sorry, Pammy. My head is pounding.”
She rummages in her bag immediately and pulls out some Tylenol and a bottle of water.
“Shit. You come prepared.” I take them and swallow two pills.
I stand. “I need to see Fifi.”
She stands. “Tomorrow. I’ll come pick you up.”
“I don’t know if—”
“You have an appointment with the team doctor in the afternoon, right?”
“How did you know?”
“I had a very nice conversation with your sister Kathleen when I was helping her clear the dishes. She told me a lot of things. We agreed that it would be better if you could stay on campus, but staying with the guys from the team didn’t sound realistic since it’s crowded there and you’d have to pay and you don’t have money, so… ”
She turns away, blushing. “I said you could stay with me.”
I laugh. “Kathleen agreed with that?”
Pammy nods, and my hand goes to my forehead where pain hammers against my skull. Repeatedly.
In the morning, my headache is nearly gone, my eyesight perfect, and the fuzziness I didn’t realize was fogging my mind lifted. Indulging me whether I need it or not, Kathleen and Mom pack me up, including two big containers of Toll House cookies.
“One is for Bog and the boys, and the other is for you and Pammy,” Kathleen instructs.
I can’t believe her and Mom are okay with me staying on campus at Pammy’s place. Dad doesn’t like it based on the gruff greeting I get.
“I don’t care what the girl says; you’re paying her back if you have to work sixty hours a week on the boat all summer.”
Shit. The instant vision of me hurling my donuts over the side of the boat every day makes me shudder.
But I shake it off because that’s not happening.
I’m not about to mention that to Dad right now, but one of these days—and soon—I’m going to have to tell him I can never work in the family’s fishing business, either on the boat or in the market.
I’m banking hard on a pro hockey career to lighten the blow.
I settle at the kitchen table to wait for Pammy while everyone else goes about their business preparing for the day.
Daniel hovers, and I say, “Aren’t you going to be late for your morning skate?”
He finally sits next to me and whispers, “Are you sure you want to move in with this chick?”
“It’s okay, Danny boy.” I use his nickname to annoy him because his concern makes me uncomfortable.
“Don’t you care at all about girls’ feelings? Are you that dog who goes through bitches like they’re—”
“Stop right there. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not like that. I care about Pammy.”
“Right. But what about Sofia? Does she know about—”
“Shhh.”
I pull him inside my old bedroom and close the door. “What are you trying to do? Dad might walk in the kitchen any minute.”
“And you don’t want him to hear about your big secret affair with Sofia Rossi.”
“No, I don’t.” I push a hand through my hair, the mild throb in my head starting to ramp up.
“What about Pammy? She seems nice, and you’re just using her? Or is it Sofia you’re using?”
“Neither. Pammy is pretending to be my girlfriend to help us out—and don’t you dare breathe a word of this until I can straighten it out.”
He opens his mouth and then closes it. “Are you shitting me? Really?”
“It wasn’t my idea. But Sofia was desperate once you found out about us.”
“Shit. You know I like Sofia, right? She’s cool. Smart and…”
“Hot.”
He nods. “She’s always been nice to me. Helped me out once when some guy was picking on me.”
“She has a heart of fucking gold and…” I’m falling for her. Hard. Because all I do is think about her and the next time I’m going to see her. Today.
I hear a knock on the back door, and I know it’s Pammy. Right on time. “I have to leave now. Just do me a solid and don’t say anything. If you have a problem with that, talk to me first. I should be the one to tell Dad, not you.”
He nods. “Don’t wait too long. This is a small town.”
“Luckily we’re not in town. We’re at UNH.”
He laughs. “You think that matters? You think you’re the only ones from town at UNH?”
Fuck. He has a point.
I push open the door in a rush to let Pammy in, but Kathleen beats me to it.
“You arrive at the exact time you promised.” Kathleen glances at the kitchen clock—a red rooster we’ve had hanging on the wall since before I was born. “On the dot.” She smiles, and I step around her, grabbing my bags near the door.
“I’ll get these,” Daniel says, taking the bags from me. I let him even though it rankles.
We go outside, and Mom and Kathleen follow with pillows and blankets and load Pammy’s car.
Dad hands my phone to Pammy. “I’ll put you in charge of this. I trust you’ll make sure Patrick follows doctor’s orders.”
Pops comes outside and lights up his pipe, eyeing Pammy while we wait for all the stuff to fill the space in her trunk.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Jennings.” Pammy smiles at him.
Pops nods. “Call me Pops and don’t be a stranger.”
Shit. He never asks non-family members to call him Pops. That’s not a good sign. When he finds out we’re not really dating, he might be pissed enough to either shoot me or disown me.
Not hanging around for any more bonding moments, I open the driver side door and usher Pammy inside while she waves and says her good-byes.
We finally take off, and I lie my head back and close my eyes against the shitstorm that just happened and try not to be angry at Pammy or Fifi.
After all, I’m the one who signed up for the crazy the second I agreed to see Fifi, to get to know her, and most of all, when I became addicted to her sweet body in my arms—
“I’m sorry.” Pammy’s whisper is as quiet as a mouse peeing on cotton, but her words blow up my thoughts, leaving nothing but a heavy blanket of guilt behind. I turn my head.
“It’s my fault. I dragged you into this mess in the first place.” I pat her hand on the steering wheel to reassure her. “I’m the only one to blame. I’ve made a shit ton of bad decisions.”
“When you care about someone, Trick, it’s not a bad decision to want to be with them. You and Sofia belong together.”
I study her, and she smiles at me as she barrels down the road at an impressive speed. She’s quick in more than one way.
We arrive on campus in time for my doctor’s appointment, and Pammy insists on waiting for me outside Doc’s office at the Whit’s practice facility.
Sitting on the exam table, I answer Doc’s questions and wait for his verdict.
He puts aside his flashlight or whatever it is he’s shining in my eyes and gives me a stern look.
“You’re clear for moderate activity—and I mean moderate—such as walking and light skating. No full practice.”
“What about tomorrow’s game?” I tense up and forget to breathe.
“No game. You need to stick with moderate activity only for forty-eight hours with no return of symptoms before you can increase your activity.”
“What about my phone?”
“You can have an hour of screen time for the next two days. Choose your screen wisely. Still no driving, but you can go to class.”
I nod and hop off the table, ready to get past this concussion protocol.
As I reach the door, Doc stops me in my tracks.
“No sex.”
I look back at him to make sure he’s serious as my heart starts pounding in revolt.
“I was told you have a girlfriend. She’s waiting for you outside, isn’t she? Keep your hands off her.”
The blood drops to my toes momentarily at the idea of Pammy and me. I have nothing but friendly interest in her and wouldn’t dream of touching her—aside from that pretend kiss—even if I did find her attractive that way, which I don’t.
I don’t think about anyone but Fifi when it comes to physical desire—or any desire. She’s the only one I think about touching, dream about touching, long to touch. Soon.
“Forty-eight hours?”
He nods, and I leave wishing I could blink the time away.
That’s when I realize how pathetic I am. Shit.