Chapter 14 #2
“Influence,” he corrects. “Creative influence.”
His expression softens.
My phone buzzes and I try to ignore it, but Chris watches me. When I don’t move to take it out of my pocket, he says, “Are you going to get that?”
“Uh, yeah.” I scramble into my bag, and read the message scrawled across my screen.
Unknown: You’re really going to put your head in the sand when these are circulating online?
Attached Photo
The image shows Zach and Jenni in the hallway at Hail Mary’s. Her arms are around him, and she’s whispering something into his ear. It’s not Photoshop, I can tell.
My heart rate kicks up, and sweat prickles at the back of my neck.
When did this happen?
Zach didn’t tell me?
Jenni’s smiling, and while the angle hides Zach’s expression, he’s leaning in, and I don’t see the animosity he swears exists between them.
Unknown: Makes you wonder… was that fight at the table real, or just a cover for why she was really on his porch without you?
“Honey?” Chris’s voice is closer than I expect. He’s reading the message over my shoulder. His jaw is tight and his eyes glare at my screen.
I swallow hard. “I should go. I’ve got some internship materials to review tonight.”
Chris doesn’t back off. He studies me for a beat, his expression unreadable, then it softens. “Or,” he says slowly, “I could take you somewhere quiet. No whispers. No stares. Just… you being you.”
I should say no.
I should go back to Zach’s house and try to put everything behind me, but the thought of disappearing, of breathing for an hour? It’s so tempting.
“Where were you thinking?”
Chris grins, holding his arm out to me in invitation. “You'll see. Trust me?”
I hesitate, then nod because I know I don’t want to be alone. “Yeah.”
My breath forms little clouds of air in front of me as I rub my hands together and watch the solitary figure glide across the rink.
When Chris said he’d take me somewhere quiet, I wasn’t expecting to come here.
“That’s my brother, Chase,” Chris explains, settling into the seat beside me. “He likes to get here at least an hour before team practice.”
“An hour? Surely, he’s exhausted by the time it starts?”
Chris smirks and shakes his head. “No. He’s used to it. Hockey runs in our blood.”
I nod, my eyes drifting back to Chase as I watch the way he glides across the ice so gracefully. The sound of his blades echoes across the empty rink, creating a sense of rhythm to his moves.
Chris clears his throat. “Have you ever been ice skating before?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not unless you count the time my ex snuck me out to one at the mall. I spent more time on my butt than on my feet.” I smile a little. “I did equestrian growing up, so I wasn’t allowed to do anything that would jeopardize that.”
“Well, that explains your impeccable posture.” He smirks. “With my skater’s hunch, it almost makes us look the same height.”
“Oh, please. You’d have to slouch a lot harder to make me believe we’re eye level.”
“Wanna come skating sometime?” he offers. “I’ll prove just how terrible my posture is.”
The smile on my face wavers.
“Don’t worry. If you don’t want the other guys there, we could do it when it’s just us. No pressure, though.”
I let out a nervous laugh and shake my head. “Maybe sometime,” I answer, but I don’t mean it. It’s a kind offer, but I wouldn’t feel right doing something like that without Zach by my side.
“Cool.” Chris’s voice is a little lower now, and I can’t help but think I offended him. Instead of addressing it, I default to avoiding it by checking my phone.
No New Messages.
Weird.
Chris nudges me. “That’s why I brought you here,” he says quietly. “The concrete walls, and steel beams make it an absolute dead zone, which means those idiots can’t get through to you.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say.
“You deserve a break from the noise, Honey. Even if it’s for just an hour.”
I clutch the phone in my hand, nodding slowly, because he's right. I do, but the knot in my stomach stays, twisted and stubborn, refusing to go away.
Clunk.
The rink gate slams open, and hockey players start gliding out.
“Do you need to get ready?” I ask as the players skate around the rink. A couple look up at us, and one points his stick in Chris’s direction.
“Probably. If you want to stay, you’re more than welcome. No one will bother you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling a little embarrassed that I needed saving in the first place. Chris is right. I should be able to push back. I shouldn’t need Zach, or Jenni, or Chris to help me, but then why do I find it so hard?
He gives me a small smile before heading down the stairwell.
I lean back, pull my knees up, and watch the players warm up.
A few minutes later, Chris is on the ice with his full hockey gear on and his helmet dangling from one hand.
He skates over to his brother Chase, and they exchange a few words before starting what looks like a practice drill, passing the puck between them and skating up and down the ice.
After a few more passes, Chris breaks away with the puck and hits it into the net. Then he turns toward the stands and gives me a small wave. I give him one back, noting one of the players nudging him in the side.
“You’re such a good girl,” I hear someone growl, and I look around in confusion.
“Aw, you know you have the best legs on the ice.”
It’s only when I see the goalie stroking the crossbar that I realize it’s him.
“They all laugh, but you know what I’d do for you.”
He leans down and rests his helmet against the bar, and murmurs something I can’t quite catch. Judging from the way he’s stroking it, I know whatever he’s saying is not for me.
I watch as he tenderly strokes the… net.
My mouth opens, then closes again as he nods solemnly at the goal before he bumps his forehead against the post one more time.
“Jensen! Stop flirting with the goal,” one of his teammates yells, and the goalie—Jensen—flips around, his guard instantly up.
“No one’s going to touch you today, Vera.”
A laugh escapes me, because somehow, this slightly eccentric goalie fits the vibes of this sport. In a way it doesn’t feel as serious as football.
Where football is fireworks and cheerleaders, this is messy, and raw… and I kind of get the appeal.
A whistle cuts through the air, and the players regroup. Chris skates over, shoving his helmet up onto his forehead, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks.
“What do you think?” he asks.
I grin, still watching Jensen talk softly to the goal like the post whispered back. Then I point at him. “He’s talking to the goal.”
Chris barks out a laugh. “You caught that, huh?”
“Caught it? I thought he was talking to me. Nearly blushed.”
“That’s Jensen. The post’s name is Vera and he’s adamant she talks back. We don't question it because he's the best goalie in the conference.”
“Are they…” I don’t want to finish the sentence because it could possibly be one of the strangest questions I’ve ever asked.
Chris seems to get it. “Dating?” He raises a brow with amusement. “Sometimes we think so, but they argue a hell of a lot for us to consider it stable.”
I shake my head. “I might need to see this in action now.”
“Ah, so maybe we'll make a hockey fan of you yet,” he says, before a whistle calls him back to practice.
After another hour, the team wraps up and Chris rejoins me in the stands, his hair damp from his shower.
“Thanks for letting me watch,” I say as he collapses into the seat beside me. “I didn’t realize hockey could be so… hypnotic.”
“Glad you liked it,” he says, taking a long drink from his water bottle. “It's not for everyone, but we have fun.”
I nod to the ice where the Zamboni is currently dragging across it. “You ever bring Jenni here?”
Chris shakes his head without hesitation. “Nope. She’s not really into hockey.”
That surprises me more than it should. “Really? I just figured… I don’t know. You two seem close.”
“We’re friendly, and study together, but that’s about it.” He shrugs. “She’s got her own circle. I’ve got mine.”
I nod, trying to act like his answer doesn’t make me feel a little uneasy. Jenni always made it out like they were really close.
“She seems… invested,” I say carefully. How do I put my question out there without sounding strange?
Chris gives me a look. “In you, maybe.”
That catches me off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She talks about you a lot. Brags about being your friend. Says you’ve been through hell and still manage to be the nicest person in the room.”
My mouth goes a little dry. “She said that?”
Chris nods. “More than once. I think she just wants people to see you the way she sees you.”I look away, unsure what to do with that. It’s easier to focus on the players still skating across the rink.
Chris nudges my arm gently. “Hey. Don’t overthink it. I just meant—she likes being around you. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“Chris, hurry up!” Chase yells, appearing at the top of the stairs. “Coach wants to talk to us before we leave.”
Chris nods at his brother, then turns back to me. “Sorry, I've got to go. Coach hates being kept waiting.”
“Of course,” I say, standing up and gathering my things. “Thanks for bringing me here. It was exactly what I needed today.”
“Anytime,” Chris says with a smile. “That's what friends are for.”
“I should get back,” I murmur, adjusting my bag. “I really do need to do that internship prep.”
“Let me walk you out to the entrance at least,” Chris offers, falling into step beside me as we head toward the exit.
“You okay getting back to your dorm?” Chris asks, glancing at his watch. “I'd walk you, but…”
“I'm fine,” I assure him. “Go before your coach gets mad.”
He shoots me a mock salute and jogs off, leaving me with my thoughts and a long walk back through a campus that feels a little less suffocating than it did this morning.
When I check my phone, a few unread messages have come through.
3 Missed Calls: Zach
Zach: Just heading for dinner. Sorry I missed you, Honeycomb. Maybe we can talk in the morning. Love you.
Shit. I completely forgot about Zach’s big night.
Honey: Sorry I missed your calls earlier, Chris took me to watch his hockey practice, and the ice rink has no signal. Good luck with Jacob! Call me after your dinner, I want to hear all about it. Love you, Z.
Just as I send that text, another one comes through.
Unknown: Have you seen the picture of the kiss yet?
Block.
I shake my head, putting my phone in my pocket because I know they’re lying. I trust Zach, and I refuse to let some anonymous idiot get to me anymore. Not after today. Sitting in that ice rink brought me more clarity than I care to admit.
I’m not alone, anymore, and even though I don’t know what I want to do with my degree, it doesn’t feel as big of an issue. Not when I have people who see me, who choose me, even when the rest of the world wants to make me believe I don’t belong.
Maybe for the first time since arriving at St. Michael’s, I feel like that’s enough.