CHAPTER EIGHT
SAM
OCTOBER
SOPHOMORE YEAR OF COLLEGE
I lean back against the brick facade, where I’m hiding in a dark corner outside of the house. My phone dangles from my hand. I can hear the music through the windows, though, thankfully, it’s muted. The light spills over into the grass and onto the privacy fence, but I’m hidden in the shadows.
I just got off the phone with my parents. Finally, we were able to celebrate some good news. My mom’s tumor shrank enough over the summer to be removed on the first of August. I was back from camp and was able to be there before hockey ramped up for preseason practices. She was weak, but everything went well, according to her surgeon. She’s continued radiation treatments, but her last scan was good. Really good. It looks like the cancer hasn’t spread into her lymphatic system, so they can stop her treatments soon. I heard the quiver in her voice when she told me, and I could visualize the tears I knew were flowing down her face. My dad was too emotional to speak. And I was able to share some good news of my own.
I take a few fortifying breaths and pocket my phone, ready to face the masses. I slipped outside as soon as I arrived at the party, needing a moment alone to speak with my mom when she called. I knew she had her oncologist appointment today, and I didn’t want to have an audience if the news was bad. Now, I can relax and let loose tonight.
The smile on my face is genuine as I round the corner and climb the stairs toward the front door. The porch is already packed with people, and several familiar faces call out my name. When I walk inside, the entire place erupts. Word must’ve spread quickly. Mike and I drove here together, and he’s standing in the middle of the room with his arms in the air.
“There he is!” my friend shouts. “The man of the hour!”
I chuckle, but say nothing as I wait to see what he’ll say next.
Mike glances around with a smirk. “Ladies, this is your last chance. My man, Sam, is officially headed to California tomorrow afternoon. If you want a piece of him, this is it! Let the games begin!”
My teammates, who are at the party, swarm me, yelling and jostling against me in the center of the circle. I feel like we’re in the middle of a mosh pit, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m jumping and shouting just as loudly as them as the adrenaline courses through my veins.
I got a call this week. Anaheim wants me, and they want me now. I don’t know if I impressed them during our first few games or if they’re just desperate for fresh feet. Either way, I can’t wait to get there. Especially now that I know my mom is on the mend. I don’t even care that the team is struggling on the ice and projected to be the worst in the league this year. I’m just arrogant enough to think that I could be the one to turn it all around.
McMann shoves a shot glass into my hand. “Drink up, rookie!”
The glass clinks when we knock them together, and the amber alcohol burns as it travels down my throat. Someone else shoves a beer into my hand.
“Seattle is looking at me,” McMann confesses. “Maybe we’ll be playing in the same conference next year.”
“I hope so, man,” I say. And I do. “The only thing that would be better is if we were on the same team.”
Charlie is a beast in the net. We started calling him The Wall the past few months because nothing gets past him. He glances over my shoulder at someone and smirks.
Arms snake around my waist as someone turns up the music. “I don’t want you to go.” The blonde bombshell pouts while leaning around me.
I’ve seen her around, but I don’t know her name.
“Is that right?” I ask.
She looks ready and willing, and her tits feel nice, pressed against my back.
“We haven’t had a chance to … get to know each other yet,” she adds while watching me beneath long, coal-colored lashes.
“There’s always tonight,” I suggest.
“Anderson! Get your ass over here!” Mike yells.
I slide my hand along her forearm, which is still around my waist, and give it a squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
“Promise?” she purrs, dragging her nails along my lower abs as she releases her hold.
“Promise.” I wink. I have every intention of ending the night with her.
Mike shouts at me again.
“I’m coming!” I answer back.
When I make it into the kitchen, where Mike and six of my other teammates are, they coax me into shotgunning a beer for old times’ sake. It seems like we did this at every party after a win last year. When we’re finished—Mike smokes us all, like usual—two more shots are shoved into my hands. It proves to be a theme for the night. Teammates and friends want to celebrate my success as much as I do.
For the next two hours, I drink so much alcohol so quickly that my vision becomes hazy and my gait becomes unsteady. It’s a testament to how much I downed in such a short period of time because I can usually hold my liquor. But it’s hard to deny my brothers. Especially when I came here to celebrate.
The blonde from earlier finds me again later in the night. She leads me upstairs to an empty bedroom, and I follow willingly. Everything that happens from that time on is a blur and comes to me in pieces. She takes off her clothes and removes mine. We kiss and touch. She manages to get me hard even though I’m hammered. We have sex, though I can’t remember it all. I wake up sometime in the middle of the night, and she rides me again.
The next morning, I dress quietly and leave the room before she awakens. I still don’t know her name. The house is silent when I walk downstairs, but remnants of the party remain. There’s trash everywhere. Red and blue Solo cups litter every open space, including the floor, some still half full of beer or mixed drinks. My shoes stick to the wood where drinks were spilled last night. A guy I recognize from my Business Ethics class is passed out on the couch.
I walk to the front door, but pause right before leaving to glance around. This was my last official college party. Everything is changing again, in the blink of an eye. There’s something nostalgic about it, even if I’m hungover, sneaking out of the bed of a meaningless hookup, and this place is a mess.
Last night epitomizes my college experience after my breakup with Oakley. I drank until I forgot things I didn’t want to remember or to celebrate the things that I did. I had countless meaningless hookups with women I’d never talk to again. All of it was somewhat empty, if I’m being honest. But somehow, in some small way, it filled a void inside of me, if only for one night at a time. And now, I’m not sure I know how to live any other way.
The door shuts behind me as I walk into the yard. My car is parked at the curb two houses down. I’m not sure how Mike got home last night. Or maybe he’s still upstairs in one of the other bedrooms, sleeping off a night of partying with a stranger, like I did.
The streets are quiet as I drive the short distance home. I hear the murmur of two voices talking in the kitchen when I enter my place.
“Mike, is that you?” Chase’s voice rings out.
I hesitate. Things have been better between Chase and me this fall, but we still aren’t close like we were before everything went down. And I’m pretty sure the other voice in the kitchen is familiar. My ex has become a fixture at the house. It’s awkward sometimes.
“No, it’s Sam,” I say.
Screw it. I walk into the kitchen.
The two of them are the picture of domestic bliss. Chase is in the corner, making coffee, and Oakley is standing at the counter, whisking eggs while wearing one of his T-shirts. It swallows her petite frame and hides her shorts. Her hair is mussed, like she just rolled out of bed. I remember that look. They seem happy. The sight of it used to gut me. Right now, I feel nothing, which is a relief.
“Hey, Sam,” Oakley says with a relaxed smile. It’s obvious she was over us the minute she started dating my roommate. In hindsight, it hurt my pride more than my heart.
“Hey.” I tip my chin.
“You just getting home?” Chase asks.
“Yep.”
“There’s extra coffee if you want a cup,” he offers as the machine percolates.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.
“Congratulations on Anaheim,” Oakley says. She sounds genuine. There was a time when we were together that she would’ve begged me not to leave. “Ollie said the team really needs you.”
Ollie is in Chicago now, killing it for the Hawks. We’ll play against each other at some point.
“Thanks. I’m excited to get there.”
“When do you leave?” Chase asks.
I glance at the clock hanging on the wall near the back door. “My flight is at four.”
“I didn’t realize you were leaving today,” Chase says.
He pours coffee into my mug before filling two other cups for Oak and him. He fixes hers, adding cream and sugar to one, knowing just how she takes it. I never paid attention to little things like that.
Oakley stays here a lot with Chase, or he crashes at her place. They’re rarely apart. She glances over at him with a look of pure love, and I’m glad to see that my chest no longer aches the way it used to at the sight. I guess time really does heal.
“You know how it is, man. They call, and we go running,” I say.
He chuckles. Our eyes connect, and his face grows serious. “I really am happy for you. You’re gonna kill it in the league.”
I hold the connection for another moment as much more is said through the silence. I sense that we could repair everything that happened in the past if we had more time. We were friends once, and I’m sure we could be again. Regardless, there’s mutual respect between us now, replacing the disdain that was there last spring.
“I appreciate that,” I say solemnly. “I think they’ll be calling your name sooner rather than later.”
Oakley places her hands over her ears as she stands, facing away from me at the stove. “I don’t want to hear that, Sam.”
I chuckle.
“Do you want some eggs?” Chase asks. “We have enough.”
“Thanks,” I say, motioning toward my mug. “But the coffee is all I can stomach right now. The guys plied me with alcohol last night.”
It’s Chase’s turn to laugh. “I saw that. I popped in toward the end of the night, but I don’t expect you to remember. I’m surprised you look as good as you do this morning.”
“What can I say? I might need a liver transplant at some point, but I can hold my liquor.” I take a sip of coffee and turn to go. “I need to finish packing.”
“If I don’t see you before you go, kill it out there in Cali.” Chase fist-bumps me.
Oakley turns with the wooden spoon in her hand and hugs me. “We’ll be rooting for you.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling weirdly sentimental.
I squeeze her with my free arm and let go. I’m not sure what Oakley and I are now—friends, I guess—but it feels nice to not leave as enemies.
Chase’s arms collapse around Oakley from behind, pulling her back against his chest possessively as I walk out of the kitchen. Mike’s door is open, but his room is empty when I pass by it. I enter my bedroom to see the bags that I started packing yesterday lying half full across the floor. It takes me another hour to get everything organized and ready.
I eat a quick lunch with Mike, who comes home about thirty minutes after I walked through the door, before leaving for the long trip to the airport. Driving through the small college town feels strange because I know I won’t be coming back. At least not anytime soon. But I’m excited about this new start. It feels right. I’m ready to play at the next level. I’ve been ready for a while now.
And when the wheels of the plane lift off the ground a few hours later … I leave college, everyone and everything there, behind.