Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Hatch
She had snuck away before the sun came up. Getting to be a habit with this girl.
I knew the train left a few minutes before seven, and that it was often late. I arrived at the top of the hour to find Summer in the waiting room, looking at her ticket.
She peered up, baffled. “Why are you here?”
“You left.” Without saying goodbye. Not that she owed me that, not after how I’d behaved last night. “I could have given you a ride.”
I took a seat beside her, one of those plastic deals that dug into my hockey butt. Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure what my play was. Wish her well? Persuade her to stay? Something else?
“Are those Aurora’s clothes?”
With a nod, she pulled down on the brim of a Detroit Motors ball cap, one of the Rebels’ biggest rivals in the league. “I was going to wash and return them when I get to Chicago.”
“Were you planning to see Carter?”
“I just spoke to him. He’s heading to St. Bart’s with family, so I think he’s in good hands.”
She sounded a touch bitter. Annoyed, perhaps, that he wasn’t begging her to return?
“How did that go?”
“It was a tense conversation. He’s obviously hurt about what I did. I’ll give him a day or two to settle before I try again.”
Silence fell, neither of us in the mood to fill it, though it wasn’t awkward.
I came from a talkative family, and we were all chatty, except for Adeline who was the quiet one.
I liked not having to compete for air. The station was empty except for an old guy with a walrus mustache on a bench a few feet away.
He squinted at us, then went back to his newspaper.
A slow rumble started up, the noise of the incoming train. Summer looked at her ticket, then out at the track.
“I should go.” She stood and stepped away, and my feet followed, drawn to her like a bee to nectar. I had to right this ship, eliminate my feelings from the matter. She needed someone in her corner, so the first step toward that was to offer assistance.
“Summer, stay.” And because that sounded weird, I added, “Take some time for yourself. When’s the last time you did that?”
She blinked in surprise, either at my apparent care for her well-being or the acknowledgment she might not have engaged in much self-care lately.
“I can’t impose any longer.” But she sounded less sure than before.
“It’s not an imposition. You’re a guest of the Kershaws.” Putting it that way made it seem less personal. Just one of my family’s many waifs and strays.
The train pulled into the station. It had been a while since I took it, but my recollection was that it would wait for two or three minutes. She turned to me, eyes wide and shiny, filled with emotion I didn’t know what to do with.
“Last night, I was too harsh,” I said. “It’s none of my business. You and Carter.”
“You feel loyalty to him. I understand. And I hate that I’ve put you in this position.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
Our gazes locked, some new knowledge passing between us. Eventually you had to admit that circumstances weren’t the boss of you and that you had a certain level of control over your actions.
I didn’t have to drive her out of that church parking lot.
I didn’t have to squire her all the way to Saugatuck.
And I certainly didn’t have to drive to the station to beg her to stay.
But I did. Time to own it.
“I don’t have any money. The ATM just ate my card.” She gestured at a machine in the waiting room.
“Not your week, is it?”
That made her laugh. I joined in, and for a moment, we were on the same page. Walrus Stache got on the train, and it slowly pulled out of the station.
“Looks like I’m staying. I’m really grateful, Hatch.”
I released a held breath, my relief both palpable and annoying.
“How about we get some coffee?”
We stopped at Novel Grounds, a coffee shop just off Water Street, the main drag in Saugatuck.
“Well, if it isn’t Hatch Kershaw!”
I smiled at Gemma, the owner. “Hey, Gem, how’s business?”
“Not bad. Had a good Fourth and now we’re in full swing.” It was early enough in the day to be a little quieter, for which I was grateful. “How’s your dad? And the rest of the family? Are they coming out soon?”
“Next month, maybe? Mom’s finishing up some work and Dad’s getting the back deck ready at the place in Riverbrook.”
“And has he decided what he’s gonna do?”
“He’s still mulling it over.” I didn’t really want to get into the weeds of my dad’s storied career. “So, I’d love an Americano and …” I turned to Summer, who had pulled the bill of the Motors cap down further.
“Hot tea?” she mumbled as if unsure this coffee shop in the sticks would have such a thing.
“We can do that,” Gemma said. “English Breakfast, Earl Grey, or Jasmine?”
“Oh, English Breakfast, please. With milk on the side.” She sounded so pleased, like this one little thing could improve her day a hundredfold.
Like a heathen, she tried to offer cash, but I insisted on paying. She didn’t order a pastry, so I got two bagels—growing boy and all that—and cream cheese.
Gem winked. “Sit down. I’ll bring it over tout de suite.”
We took a seat in the back, and Summer threw a furtive glance over her shoulder.
“Do you think she knows who I am?”
“Maybe. People are pretty in tune with the team because of my family’s connection to this town. At the same time, you don’t really look like any of your pictures online.”
“I don’t?”
“The disguise is working.”
She tugged again at the cap brim. “I grabbed this in the dark. Didn’t really think it through.”
“That hat belongs to the enemy.”
“Uh, it was in your great-grandmother’s closet.”
I nodded. “She’s from here so she has allegiance to the local team. Plus, Conor’s starting there in the fall, which will likely muddle our loyalties further. You’re probably okay.”
“Except for the fact I’m wearing Motors merch.” She did a fake spit take that made me chuckle. “So you can laugh.”
“Of course I can. Until now, you’ve never said anything to amuse me.”
“Hmm. So we’ve seen each other off and on for five years—”
“Not that long.”
She pointed, rather dramatically, I thought. “Yes, it is! We met at a Rebels holiday party almost five years ago. You’ve barely spoken to me since.”
Five years. I knew it but I didn’t want to acknowledge it, or acknowledge that she had never been far from my thoughts all this time.
“I hardly saw you over the years. Only when I started with the Rebels last season did we start running into each other regularly.”
“And you either ignored me or looked at me like I was something on the bottom of your skate.”
“Like ice, you mean?” This was my cue to explain myself, but I’d rather undergo Lasik surgery with a rusty skate blade than do that. Thankfully, Gem appeared with the toasted bagels and beverages.
“Here you go.” She hovered, ready to settle in for a chat. “So, you look familiar, honey. Have you been in here before?”
Keeping her head down, Summer dunked her tea bag. “No, first time. Just got one of those faces.”
The last thing I needed was this juicy piece of gossip escaping into the wild. Before I could jump in, Gemma had her hand out.
“I’m Gemma.”
Summer shook it. “Shelby Mae. Pleased to meet you.”
Shelby Mae? Gemma was squinting at Summer, so I needed to put a stop to the interrogation.
“How’s Baz?” Asking after her son seemed a good strategy to deflect.
“Still working down at the harbor. I expect you’ll be taking the boat out soon. You should call him to pull her out of storage.”
“I might just do that. Is he still with Marla?”
“Nah, she’s runnin’ around with some motorcycle freak from Douglas.
Baz was crushed, I can tell ya.” We chitchatted for another minute or so, only stopping when more customers came in.
“Okay, back to work. You say hi to your pop for me. Tell him we all support his decision but that we’d prefer if he kept playing forever! ”
I gave a dutiful chuckle. “Sure will.”
Once she was out of earshot, I caught Summer’s eye. She looked amused.
“What’s so funny?”
“People are kind of obsessed with your dad around here.”
“He’s a native son. Well, he wasn’t born in the town, but he spent his formative years here. The townsfolk are proud of the connection.”
“How does it feel?”
I sipped my coffee. “How does what feel?”
“To have such a legend for a dad?”
“He’s a lot to live up to, a larger-than-life character. People look at us and think I should act like him as well as play like him, but we’re different people.”
Did I sound defensive there? I couldn’t help it, I supposed.
Summer sipped her tea. “I never thought you were like him.”
Silently, I smeared cream cheese on my cinnamon raisin bagel and pushed the blueberry one toward her.
“He’s the cap,” she went on. “The lovable team leader. The Theo Kershaw. And you’re your own person.”
“So, you’ve noticed.”
She waved the cream-cheese covered knife. “Meaning I can understand why it might bother you. I think I said something once to you about you being his clone and you did not like it.”
The night she accepted Carter’s marriage proposal, just over a year ago. I’d left that bar in a foul mood and my summer had only gone downhill from there.
“I might have been a bit touchy about it.”
She looked sympathetic. “Well, I think anyone who’s met you will realize you’re not a mini version of Theo Kershaw. So you’ve got the gorgeous green eyes and the killer cheekbones and that hair I’m sure women love raking their fingers through. Physically similar, otherwise not a chance.”
She slathered cream cheese onto half the blueberry bagel. More than fifty percent, which meant she would have less for the second half. I wasn’t sure why that bothered me.
“You think my eyes are gorgeous and my cheekbones are killer?”
“Don’t forget the running of fingers through your hair.”
“You said raking.”
She held the bagel to her lips. “I did, but it sounds weird. Like you’re taking a gardening implement to your head. You know in Portuguese they call it ‘cafune’ when someone else does it to your hair or you do it to a lover’s.”
She took a bite and chewed.
Something weird was happening here. It was like we’d leapfrogged the getting-to-know-you and landed in the middle of some kind of ’ship. Relationship. Situationship. Friendship.
Attractionship.
Knowing that Summer thought my eyes were gorgeous and the rest made me uneasy. I might not be Carter’s biggest fan but there had to be some adherence to the bro code.
She swallowed her bagel bite, took a sip of coffee, and stared at me.
“Have I made it weird?”
“No. Okay, yes. We’re not … friends.”
“And this feels too friendly?”
I pushed the remainder of my cream cheese toward her. Given her usage so far, she might need it.
“A bit.”
She held up her hands. “Got it. Let’s keep it strictly … well, how would you define this?”
“Helping out a … work colleague.”
That pleased her, which strangely pleased me. Fuck, I was losing the plot.
“A work colleague. I can get down with that. So, I have a hugely important question to ask you.” She cleared her throat. “Any chance we can hold some work meetings … on this boat of yours?”
I couldn’t help my laugh. “If I can get it out of storage soon, we can go out tomorrow if you like.”
“Really?”
The way her face lit up sent my pulse into outer space. She leaned in like she wanted to hug or kiss me, and my cock stirred, anticipating either, yet knowing neither was good for my mental health.
At the last second, she sat back and said, “Thanks, Dino Boy.”
I groaned. “Why’d ya go and ruin it?”
She chuckled. “Did your dad really conceive you while wearing T-rex-themed underwear?”
Unfortunately the public was far too knowledgeable about my parents’ sex lives. I had my dad to thank for that.
“Hard to conceive while wearing the underwear.”
“I dunno. I’m guessing some guys are spurty enough to break through the cotton barrier.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Spurty enough? You’re assigning way more power to any guy’s sperm than it deserves. And I really don’t want to think about my dad’s swimmers.”
“Even when it resulted in the miracle that is you?”
That drew another laugh, deep from my belly, and loud enough to attract Gemma’s attention.
“Especially that.”