35. Sydney
thirty-five
sydney
“We have to go to dinner.”
I stare blankly at Oliver. My mind has not been with it. I woke up and he was gone, but there was a note on my desk from him about needing to meet teammates for a morning skate.
Acceptable…ish.
But staying in my apartment just reminded me of all the things I didn’t want to think about, so I washed my hair, scrubbed my body, picked at the scabs on Carter’s name, and finally ventured out to the library.
I brought my journal and charcoal with me, and I have the writing project deadline looming over my head. Otherwise, I also have a law paper, a crime fiction paper, and an econ presentation. Those have taken priority, as their due dates are coming up fast, too.
He drops into the chair across from me. “Your dad invited both of us to dinner.”
“Right. I remembered.”
He texted me, too, although the message is still unread on my phone. He invited us both when I skated with him on Thursday, and then he kind of walked in on us kissing. It’s unclear if he saw anything concrete, but he did warn be about funny business in his arena.
So basically, this is going to be an awkward fucking dinner.
“When?” I ask.
He glances at his watch, then me. “Um, like now.”
“Oops.”
My table is chaotic. I jump to my feet and flip notebooks closed, piling them together. I’ve got two books to return to the librarian. Plus my computer and a thousand pens.
Why the fuck do I have so many pens?
I spot my journal and charcoal case at the same time as Oliver, who started stacking textbooks for me. My fingers graze the spine just as he lifts the two, and I lunge.
“Whoa.” He dances back. “What’s this? Some super-secret diary?”
I scowl. “No.”
Penn already looked through it. I don’t need another hockey asshole doing the same. I open my mouth to tell him just that, but then he opens it, and the words die. He flips the pages to get to the last one, scanning the drawing and the words.
Watching him read it is a form of intimacy I never would’ve expected.
It’s like he is reading my diary, or my deepest darkest secrets.
He mouths some of the words. Then touches the page. I know exactly which one he’s analyzing.
Ice princess in a court so cold—what will she do when the prince who claims her is made of fire?
My brows are furrowed by the time he closes it and looks up, and there’s fucking awe in his expression.
“What?” I snap.
“You’re creative. Talented.” He holds it out.
“That’s it?” I snatch the journal and hug it to my chest.
“I could go on, but you seem like you want to bite my head off. And we’re still late.”
Ugh. I shove it and the notebooks into my bag, and he takes the borrowed books. I follow him downstairs, still zipping my bag closed. He gives the books back, and we jog outside, and I suppress my groan at the motorcycle.
His lips tip into a smile. I’m still not used to him actually smiling, especially in my direction, but I’ll take it.
“Sore?” He tugs on the shoulder strap of my backpack.
I hum.
He uses it to reel me in and kisses me.
He kisses me in broad daylight.
I don’t even care, I want more .
Our mouths part, and he takes his taste of me. Too soon, though, he’s pulling away and removing my bag from my shoulder.
An old flash of fear that he’s going to be a dick and throw it comes over me, but he just hooks it over his shoulder and continues toward the bike. Giving me no choice that this is our destination.
I put on my helmet while he stows my bag under the seat. I climb on behind him, sliding close and wrapping my arms around him. It doesn’t feel weird to do it this time, and he reaches back and squeezes my thigh.
The bike rumbles to life, sending vibrations straight up through my core. I don’t think I’d normally feel it, but after last night, it verges on pain.
That goes out the window when the engine revs. I dig my fingers into his abdomen, and we shoot off down the street.
He parks on the curb in front of my dad’s house.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. I hop off the bike at lightning speed, unbuckling the helmet and shoving it back at him.
Is it because we had sex?
Mind-blowing, chemistry-altering sex?
Do not think about sex in front of Dad .
“You okay?” Oliver smirks at me. “You’re… flushed.”
“I’m not.” I turn and stalk up the walkway before he can say anything else.
Perri meets us at the front door. Her expression is way too knowing, and she pulls me into a hug as soon as we’re all inside.
“Frank has been grilling,” she says.
“I brought this,” Oliver says. He extends a bottle of wine to her. “I’m not old enough to drink, and neither is Sydney, of course. But my mom gave it to me for you.”
“This is perfect, thank you, Oliver.” She winks at us. “We can have a taste at dinner.”
We shed our jackets, kick off snowy boots, and follow her into the house. Sure enough, the patio off of the kitchen is clear of snow, the grill at the edge creating a haze of heat just above the closed lid.
“Sounds good, Mrs. Windsor.”
She frowns. “Please call me Perri, Oliver.”
He dips his head.
Dad comes around the corner and immediately glares at his captain. Oliver straightens his spine and frowns back.
“Hey, Dad,” I interrupt.
Oliver looks away first. Dad hugs me, smacking a loud kiss to my cheek.
“Thanks for coming,” he says in my ear. Then he focuses back on Oliver. “Ruiz, we’re going to talk about how you handle girls breaking into your house.”
Oh, shit. My eyes go wide, and I start to shake my head?—
“I didn’t handle it the best, sir,” Oliver admits. “I’ve already apologized to Sydney.”
I have a feeling my apology came last night…
“He did,” I blurt out. “He apologized.”
Dad grunts.
Perri’s laugh fills the kitchen, and she touches Oliver’s arm. They head for the fridge to get drinks for everyone, and I glower at my father.
“I don’t really need backup for something that happened months ago,” I say quietly.
“Men on my hockey team need to learn how to treat women before they’re set loose on the world,” he replies.
My heart gives a weird little thump at that. The thought of Oliver somewhere, playing professional hockey, living a life that doesn’t include us. Me.
“When do you guys leave for those away games next week?”
We move to the bar stools at the island. He leans on one, while I sit.
“Mid-afternoon flight on Friday, but it’s a quick one. An hour up and down. The team will have their morning skate at our arena, and then we fly back directly after the Sunday game.” His attention wanders to his wife. “Perri is coming with me this time. If you feel like you want to get out of your apartment, you’re welcome to stay here.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
He smiles. “We’ll get you a spare key before you leave.”
“The team can miss Friday classes?”
“They get excused as long as their grades don’t slip. They’re required to keep a two-point-five grade point average, so making up work is essential.” He lifts one shoulder. “Not exactly my idea of putting education first, but I don’t make that rule.”
I guess I can count on taking notes for Penn in our Intro to Law class.
Oliver returns with a beer for my dad and soda in a glass for me.
“You’re not dating, right?” Dad asks him.
I choke on my drink.
Dad doesn’t look away from Oliver, but he reaches over and pats my back.
“Unclear, sir,” Oliver mutters. A flush creeps up his neck. “We haven’t really discussed it. But your daughter has grown on me.”
I’m going to die.
“Since the beginning of the semester.” Dad sighs. “Keep your head on straight, Oliver. You have your whole life ahead of you to date girls. And not this girl.”
“Okay,” I mumble. “I’m going to…”
I motion toward where Perri is pulling something out of the oven. I mean, we have one heart-to-heart and now he’s going to try and forbid Oliver and I from seeing each other?
“You’re scowling.” She hands me plates for the table.
“Yeah, well…” I shake my head and go set the table.
Did Mom ever care who I was dating? She had passing interest in it when I was in college… she eyed Carter like he could be my salvation. Because he comes from a wealthy family and will most likely be headed to the NHL after college.
In high school, though, I never brought any guys home. I messed around with some in their cars, parked away from prying eyes. They didn’t bring me to their house either. It was transactional more than anything. Kissing and blow jobs and fucking, but that was it. No emotional value.
I glance across at Oliver.
Are we transactional?
He meets my gaze over Dad’s shoulder. Just for a second, I feel something. Something I really don’t want to feel.
A skip in my chest, a fluttering of affection.
Bad heart .
Dad goes to attend to the protein on the grill, and Oliver doesn’t seem too bothered to be made to stand out in the cold in just a t-shirt and jeans, his hands in his pockets. But they return in short order. Perri hands Dad a sharp knife while Oliver and I transfer everything to the table.
It’s a fantastic spread and probably too much food for just the four of us. Grilled chicken, roasted brussels sprouts and bacon, a salad, halved baked potatoes and toppings.
“This looks amazing,” I tell her.
We take our seats, Perri and Dad at the heads, Oliver and I on the long sides across from each other. The next few minutes are full of quiet shuffling and passing of plates, until we’re all loaded up and my mouth is watering.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Oliver tells her and my father. His foot touches mine under the table.
“Do you get home-cooked meals very often?” Perri asks.
“Only when I visit my family. Which isn’t enough if you ask them, but plenty for me.” He tells her where they live, which seems to be only a few blocks away from their business. “Sometimes my abuela sends my siblings with food to make sure I’m not starving.”
He cracks a smile at that thought.
“They come to the games,” Dad says to Perri. “Very supportive family, although your grandmother is one to be reckoned with.”
“She’s hard to please.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, Sydney met her a few weeks ago…”
Right. She definitely didn’t like me, if hard to please reminded him of our introduction.
Dad’s eyebrows are in his hairline. He sets down his fork and clears his throat. “So, Sydney, you’re meeting his family?”
“Oh, uh, no?—”
“So it is serious,” he concludes. His attention fixes on Oliver. “You’re dating. You’re introducing her to your grandmother. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes,” I blurt out.
Oliver pauses and looks at me.
I didn’t mean to just say it. And I’m not sure how to frame Penn in this scenario, let alone Carter. That’s not any of Dad’s business, though. And they’re not here getting grilled by him.
“That’s wonderful!” Perri exclaims. “That’s great, honey, right? You always say that Oliver is a great man.”
“Boy,” Dad corrects. “He’s barely twenty.”
I mean… yeah. Me, too. I scowl at Dad, who’s laying on the protective act a little thick. He raises his hands in surrender, but I highly doubt the matter is dropped.
That would be asking for too much.
We finish dinner. Oliver and I clean up the kitchen to the tune of Dad and Perri’s mutual protesting, but we send them out into the front room.
“Sorry.” I pass him a wet dish.
“For what?” He’s on drying duty, and his movements are quick and efficient.
“For saying we’re together.”
“Oh.” He glances at me. “No takebacks, though.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“You can’t unsay it.”
I set down my sponge and face him. “I can’t unsay it?”
“You can’t unring a bell, mi nena .”
I don’t know what that word means, and I really don’t want to admit that I like it. But I like the way the word rolls off his tongue. I like the way he looks at me and talks to me and?—
“We’re dating.” He smirks. “Penn can deal.”
“And Carter,” I automatically add. I quickly resume washing. “I’m not leaving him out of my life. Don’t ask me to.”
“Penn says he’s a fucking stalker,” Oliver says under his breath. “I could get rid of him for you.”
“Like you got rid of Bear?”
Henry Bernstein . A problem that’s apparently not gone, although he’s the last person I want to think about.
He winces. “Even your father doesn’t know. His brother’s records were sealed because he was seventeen when the sexual assault happened. His dad’s the only one that we would know about, and I don’t think he ever told us. If your dad knows, he didn’t mention it.”
“Then how did Penn’s uncle find out?”
His lips quirk. “He probably bribed someone.”
Oh.
“That’s one way of getting stuff done,” I reply. “But please don’t get rid of Carter.”
He grunts.
The rest of the evening is nice. We drink coffee, and Perri pulls out some fancy chocolates. We keep things light and somewhat casual, minus a few cutting glares from my father in Oliver’s direction. It’s like he doesn’t actually know his hockey captain… which is ridiculous.
When we’ve said our goodbyes and Oliver is already outside, I pull Dad aside and say as much. That he’s known Oliver longer than me, if you look at it a certain way.
He gives me a don’t be stupid look. “I only wiped one of your asses, sweetheart.”
He kisses the top of my head and waits for me to get down to the curb. Oliver puts the helmet on for me, buckling it under my chin.
“Well, he didn’t kill you.” I smile. “That’s a start.”
“Let’s hope he never sees the hickeys,” he replies.