19. Daire
19
DAIRE
The child CPR class is filled with a mix of expecting parents, young women—probably nannies—and teenage girls that I assume are here because they’re babysitters. Then there’s Rosie and me.
“Like this.” The instructor demonstrates CPR on the infant doll in front of the two of us. “You’re being too rough. You don’t want to crack ribs, do you?” She shoots me an accusing look.
“Sorry,” I mutter at the chastisement, my face heating.
This is a lot harder than I expected. Especially since I took a CPR class my freshman year. Coach requires it of all his players. He’s never explained why, but rumor is that when he was younger, a friend collapsed in front of him, and no one knew how to do CPR properly. Whether it’s true is anybody’s guess. Most of my teammates are full of shit, so there’s a good chance it’s not.
“No, no, no.” The short, older woman chastises me yet again. To Rosie she says, “Big men like this one here want to show off how strong they are. But death isn’t cute.”
The heat in my face has officially spread everywhere, and I’ve broken out into a sweat. I’m trying to do this right, but clearly, I’m failing at every turn.
“Fingers,” she says, holding up her index and middle finger. “Like this.”
She demonstrates again.
I shoot a pleading look in Rosie’s direction, but from the twitch in her lips, she’s far too amused to be any help.
“Now try.”
I take a deep breath. At this point, the entire class is staring at me.
I try again.
She closes her eyes, pinching her brow. “Dead baby,” she mutters.
Tossing my head back, I groan. “Please, help me. I need to learn this.”
For the first time, she looks at me with a hint of sympathy in her expression. Like maybe she gets how desperate I am. “Give me your arm.”
I obey, extending my arm.
“You need to be firm.” She presses her fingers into my skin. “But not too rough. Do you feel that pressure?”
I nod in answer.
“Good. Now try again.”
Playing in front of an entire arena of hockey fans?
Not a problem.
Attempting to give this doll CPR while a dozen people watch me? I’m ready to run out the door and never come back.
This is for Sammy.
With a fortifying breath, I do my best to mimic the pressure she demonstrated and try again.
She nods in encouragement, so I continue. For a solid minute, no one moves or speaks while I practice, but eventually, she claps.
“And now you’ve got it, Mr. Hendricks. Good job.”
The thumbs-up the instructor gives me feels as good as winning a game.
I switch with Rosie so she can practice while the instructor goes around to the rest of the group.
“The sight of you struggling brings me far too much joy,” Rosie admits with a smile. Her dark hair is gathered in a ponytail, for an instant tempting me to wrap that hair around my fist and bring her mouth to mine.
I haven’t kissed her since my last home game. I’m fucking grateful she didn’t seem to notice how hard the kiss made me.
“So, what you’re telling me is you like to see me in a vulnerable position?”
She flicks her brown eyes my way, her lips tipping up again. “Can you blame me? It’s so cute to watch you squirm.”
I cross my arms over my chest and bite my cheek to keep from smiling.
Is she flirting with me?
My heart beats out an irregular rhythm, but I ignore it and jump in to tease her in return. “You think I’m cute?”
She puffs out her lips and narrows her eyes on me over the CPR doll. “That’s not what I said, and you know it.”
“Good, Rosie,” the instructor says, passing by us again. “You’ve got the technique.”
Rosie flashes me a triumphant smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Get your gloating over with now.”
An hour later, we leave with CPR certificates in hand.
Rosie snickers as we near my minivan.
“Stop laughing at my car.” I bump her with my elbow. “It’s nicer than you thought it would be, and you know it.”
“It is,” she agrees, letting her hair down from the ponytail. She tips her head back and gives it a shake, causing the dark tendrils to cascade over her shoulders. “But even you have to admit the scenario is funny. Daire Hendricks, college hockey star, driving a grocery-getter.”
“I guess,” I mutter, rounding the hood.
I get in the driver’s side, but when she tries to open the passenger door, it doesn’t budge.
She glowers at me through the window. “Daire.”
A zap of excitement courses through me. I get a sick satisfaction out of riling her up. “What’s the password?”
She bats her eyes, a smile that’s pure annoyance on her mouth. “You’re an asshole?” she asks, her words muffled. “Is that it?”
“Close, but no,” I say, hitting the ignition button.
She pulls on the handle again without success. “Let me in.”
“Apologize for making fun of my dad car.”
“This is a mom van.”
I grin and pull my seat belt across my torso. “Have fun walking home.”
“You dick!” She slaps the window. “Don’t you dare!”
I wouldn’t, but she doesn’t have to know that. I put the van in reverse and tap the gas just enough to force her to jump away.
“Daire!” Her voice is so high pitched I expect dogs to start howling at any second.
“Apologize,” I singsong.
She huffs, stomping her foot. “I’m so sorry for making fun of your mom-mobile.”
“Mm,” I reverse slightly again. “Not good enough.”
“I’m sorry! Okay? Don’t leave me here!”
The desperation in her voice hits me like a stab to the gut. I was just having a little fun. I would’ve never actually left her here. I’m not that much of an asshole.
I unlock the doors, and when she yanks the door open, I angle over the center console. “I wasn’t going to abandon you.”
She gets inside with a huff, her nose pink from the cold. “Sure, you weren’t.” She yanks the seat belt across her body, avoiding my gaze.
My heart pangs at the hurt and anger wafting off her after such a harmless joke. “I mean it, Rosie.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ve done it before. Why would now be any different?”
With my heart in my throat, I pull back into the parking space. Once the van is in park again, I turn in my seat to face her, racking my brain for any memory of leaving her behind. But I come up empty.
“When?” I demand.
“The day our friendship ended.” She wraps her arms around herself, looking away like she wishes the words hadn’t tumbled out of her mouth. She bites down on her bottom lip, but not before I catch the way it trembles.
Fuck. I hate that she’s on the verge of tears because of me.
“The day… junior prom?”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she doesn’t turn my way. “You have to remember.”
I’ve never forgotten that fateful day, but I didn’t leave her.
“You left with Brady Jackson.”
Her lips part, and she whips around, eyes wide. “Brady? Are you serious? I hated him!”
I turn the music down and clear my throat. “That’s not what I heard. Alyssa told me?—”
“Alyssa?” She huffs. “I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s the one who spewed that bullshit at you. She hated me.”
“What?” I rear back. “No, she didn’t.”
“Daire.” She blinks at me like she’s waiting for me to connect a series of dots I’m too dumb to see. “She was your girlfriend, and I was your best friend. She didn’t like that.”
My stomach twists itself into a knot. “Why would she?—”
“Because I was in love with you!” Rosie screams, throwing her arms out. Her knuckles hit the window, and she winces, then cradles her right hand in her left. “Everyone knew.” Her voice is softer, her arms wrapping protectively around her body again. “Everyone but you.”
Everyone but you.
Clueless fucking idiot.
She turns back to the window and sniffles. “That night… I don’t know if she knew I was in the restroom, but I think she did. She was bragging about how… about how you guys were going to finally have sex and…” Rosie drops her head. “I knew she was your girlfriend. I knew it was inevitable, but it still hurt. And then you were supposed to take me home, and you just… left me.”
I stare at her, my heart cracking wide open. Why the fuck was I so stupid back then? How the hell did we let this ruin our friendship?
“I was so fucking angry,” I start, curling my fists like I did all those years ago, “when she told me you went home with Brady. I was jealous when I had no right to be. I liked you too, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” I bark out a humorless laugh. “But after that night, it was ruined anyway.”
She whips toward me so quickly I have to dodge the fan of her hair. “You liked me too?” she blurts, her eyes wide as they meet mine. “You… I never had any idea that?—”
I’m fucking helpless to stop myself.
I grab her by the back of the neck and pull her into me. Our mouths meet, and just like the times we’ve kissed before, it’s an explosion of sparks. A kiss has always just been a kiss to me. With Rosie? It’s an experience. One I want to savor.
A small sound leaves her, one I quickly swallow, and then her tongue meets mine.
More.
I want so much more of her, and that’s fucking terrifying.
We’re married.
But not for real.
Feelings would only complicate things, but I can’t pull myself away from her.
I don’t break the kiss, even though my subconscious is screaming that this is a terrible idea. The taste of her is incomparable. In this moment, I’m certain I could kiss her for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.
In the end, she’s the one who breaks the kiss. I guess that’s for the best.
She rests her forehead against mine. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, smoothing a hand down her neck and shoulder as I sit back. “I don’t know.”
We sit there for another minute, probably longer, watching each other, before she says, “I’m starving. Let’s get burgers.”
With a thanks to the waitress, Rosie squirts a ridiculous amount of ketchup onto her plate.
“Would you like some fries with that ketchup?” I quip, taking the bottle when she’s done.
She laughs, unfolding the napkin from around the utensils. Knife in hand, she cuts her burger in half. “I like ketchup.”
I add a much smaller amount to my plate. When she suggested burgers, I couldn’t pull out of the parking lot fast enough, more than eager to put off talking about the kiss. Especially when I can’t make sense of my own thoughts. It’s like a maze with no way out.
She’s had a few bites of her burger when she says, “I can’t believe we’ve hated each other for years because your ex-girlfriend is a big, fat liar.”
I nearly choke on my Coke. “I guess you’re right,” I say between coughs as I wipe my mouth with my napkin.
“Alyssa was always a bitch.”
I chuckle, sorting through my fries for the crispier ones. “She was,” I agree. It’s why I broke up with her shortly after that. We didn’t last through the summer before our senior year. By that time, though, Rosie was dating someone, and I was still angry enough that I didn’t reach out.
Young and foolish.
That’s what we were.
A wasted friendship for nothing.
If we’d just talked—used our words, like my nanny used to say—we could have easily mended our friendship rather than stewing in hatred.
Neither of us can go back and undo the past now. There’s only forward.
There’s an expiration date on our marriage, but that doesn’t mean we can’t remain friends.
“This burger,” Rosie points at her plate, “might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“Ever?” I laugh. “That’s a pretty big declaration.”
She picks up the second half of the burger and inspects it. “It’s that good.”
“Glad you like it.”
“I haven’t been here before.” She surveys the restaurant, chin lifted high. “How’d you know about it?”
“Uh…” I scratch at my chest and consider a little white lie, but in the end, I go with the truth. “Covey mentioned it. His mom works here.”
“Luke?”
I nod and pop a fry into my mouth. “Yeah, but he doesn’t know that I know that. A couple of years ago, he mentioned that this place had the best burgers. I came by myself once, and his mom happened to be my waitress—I only know because she asked if I went to Aldridge, and when I said yes, we got to talking, and when she found out I played hockey, she said she was his mom. I don’t see her today.” I look around to be sure.
“He seems nice. For a hockey player,” she adds with a wink.
I press a hand over my heart. “You wound me, Mrs. Hendricks.”
I’m not sure exactly what made me call her that, but I’m rewarded with the pink flushing from her neck all the way up her cheeks.
“I can’t believe I’m admitting this,” the pink somehow gets brighter in color, “but in middle school, I wrote that all over my notebooks.”
“What?” I grin, feeling lighter than I think I have in years. I know exactly what she’s talking about, but I want to hear her say it.
She rolls her eyes. “Mrs. Hendricks,” she says softly.
“Glad to know you always wanted me.”
She tosses a fry at me. “Shut up.”
It’s surprising, how easy this is. The camaraderie. The connection.
It’s almost like we’ve been friends all along.