Chapter 1
NOW: Senior Year, January
Bennett
“Sometimes I think you’re not real,” she whispers, her hands tracing my jaw lightly, brown eyes burning enough that my throat catches. “That I dreamed you up.”
Then she opens her mouth again. She’s asking me something—begging me—but her words are silent screams and no matter how much I plead, I can’t hear her.
I feel a little like I want to cry, enough that my hand reaches up to rub at my eyes.
Water—not tears.
The harsh spray of the shower turns painful. My focus shifts to the soap suds sliding down my body to swirl into the drain, shaking me from the memory.
She’s not here. I’m alone. Again, I remind myself, a harsh but necessary mantra.
I’m in the shower. She’s not here.
I’m in the shower and she is gone. Remember.
I press my hands to the tile, breathing harshly as I try to center myself. I count the scattered black squares amongst the gray tiles again, then reach for my body wash again—despite how inflamed my skin is from the steaming hot shower I’ve been standing in too long already.
It’s the only way to make the vision of her disappear.
Today is a game day, which means I need to get back into my routines before something completely derails my focus.
I pull on gray sweats and a Waterfell athletic tee, then let Seven meander to the door as I fold down my sheets and set my hockey bag by my desk, my lucky sweatshirt folded perfectly atop it, the chewed edge of the sleeve tucked away.
As I go to turn off the lamp, a small rush of anxiety threatens, and I decide to keep it on.
Don’t be ridiculous. Turn it off. No one needs the nightlight. She doesn’t need it anymore, just like she doesn’t need you—
I leave, the lamplight still casting an amber glow over my room.
Impulsively, I check my phone again—no new notifications. It’s not surprising, but it doesn’t hurt any less. I haven’t heard from her, or even seen her, since October.
Seven nudges my leg when he realizes I’ve frozen—just a check, to make sure I’m okay.
My hand taps his head and I start toward the kitchen, attempting to leave the memory of her behind, safe in my room.
To pretend I didn’t wake up to empty, cold sheets the next morning.
That I didn’t worry about her so much over the months after that I started driving through downtown Waterfell over Christmas break to make sure she was okay. That she was safe.
Checking the group chat to see if anyone is up yet, I send a quick text to Holden inviting him to our “family breakfast,” as Freddy has taken to calling it. His response irks me: Is Toren invited?
I can say yes, knowing the well-hated defenseman on our line won’t show. But the word still feels like some sort of betrayal.
Toren Kane hit Rhys on the ice during our Frozen Four game last year, ending his season as he was stretchered off. My best friend, broken and bleeding and terrified—and I couldn’t do anything to help him.
Then, our coach decided to recruit Toren—despite his history with our team and his reputation on the ice.
I was fully prepared to hate the guy when he was announced, to follow my captain and best friend’s lead and do what needed to be done to get him off Rhys’s line.
But since then, Toren has started making my job easier. He is easily the best defenseman that I’ve ever played with. That was hard to ignore, but I did, because my loyalty will always be to Rhys.
But then I saw him defend Ro—Freddy’s tutor-turned-girlfriend and Sadie’s best friend. He didn’t know the girl, didn’t care about anything other than stopping an asshole from hurting a defenseless person. After that, it became harder not to like him.
But I’m a good secret keeper, even if I don’t have many myself.
Though, I have one secret I keep above all else. The most important one.
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever cared about. Ever. And I—”
Shaking away the sound of her voice—though it’s far away and swimming in a sea of painful memories—I start to work on our usual pregame breakfast, turning my music on and letting “World Spins Madly On” by the Weepies play through our speakers in the kitchen.
I check the group thread again—no one has answered Holden’s question, so I don’t either.
When it comes to Toren Kane, I’ll follow Rhys’s lead.
I gather eggs for omelets, mix and buttermilk for pancakes. Plenty of meat and carbs for a late-afternoon game. A full menu spread for our very full house. It’s warm and loud with love, but it doesn’t do much to stop the constant hollow ache in my chest. A permanent scar of something missing.
A high-pitched giggle signals the end of my slower morning ritual; Liam appears first, followed by Rhys dressed only in his boxers as he scoops the seven-year-old up off the hardwood and over his shoulder.
“Morning, Bennett,” my best friend says with a smirk, speaking over the loudly screeching child. “Sorry about that.”
Rhys’s girlfriend Sadie, a figure skater at our school, rounds the corner after them, face burning red.
Last summer the two struck up a secret friendship that inevitably turned into more.
She was able to fix the things that were broken in my best friend more than I ever had—for that, she has my unending loyalty.
She and her little brothers—both of whom stay with us now and again.
Usually, they stay with Rhys’s parents—Max and Anna Koteskiy—but when they miss their sister and the timing works out, they stay in our spare room.
“All good. I’m making breakfast. For everyone.”
Rhys nods. “I’ll inform the lazy ones.”
“Put me down—”
“I told you, Liam, no more coming into our room without knocking or we’ll have to lock the door,” Sadie grumbles, eyes wide awake at an earlier hour for her than I’m used to.
“Oh? Did the little man see more of my captain than he should?” Freddy yawns through his joke, smacking a shoulder into the doorframe as he stumbles into the kitchen in only a pair of boxer briefs.
“He’s currently seeing more of you than anyone ever should,” Sadie snaps. “Put some fucking clothes on.”
Liam laughs louder now, face red from lack of breath because he’s so tickled. “You said a bad word, Sissy.”
“Yeah, Sissy,” Freddy laughs, hip checking the much smaller girl as he passes her. “Besides, I’m literally wearing the exact same thing as your boyfriend!”
“It’s different.” Sadie fakes a gag and covers her eyes.
“If Ro were here, she’d be very mad at you.”
Rosalie Shariff has been dating our left winger Freddy for who knows how long—though my suspicions are for far longer than they’ll admit to.
She tutored him last semester, came to nearly every one of our games as his friend—since then, they’ve been inseparable.
And unbearable to be around with their intense flirting and never-quite-hidden intimacy all over our house.
“Where exactly is my roommate?” Sadie asks.
It is strange. Ro is usually the first one up with me.
Freddy is beaming ear to ear as he starts to open his mouth—leaving both Rhys and me to groan before he’s said anything.
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing we lock our door. Your roommate is a menace, Brown. She kept me up all night—I’m exhausted—”
“All right.” Rhys cuts him off. Liam is repositioned onto his hip now, Star Wars pajama shirt stretched out nearly off his shoulder.
Both of them have bedhead, messy locks brushing each other as Liam leans to rest his head on Rhys’s shoulder, like it might soften him out of trouble with his sister.
“Everyone get dressed for family breakfast. Freddy—boxers do not count. You need a shirt. Liam—”
“Please don’t lock the door. How do I come in if I have a nightmare?”
The puppy eyes Liam is sending Rhys are practiced, but my captain is soft as butter when it comes to the entire Brown family. Sadie has always played parent to her brothers when she needs to, but Rhys isn’t used to being anything but a gentle friend.
“You have to knock,” he finally says, but the words are accompanied by a tight hug before he sweeps Liam up onto his shoulder.
“He must’ve walked in on something good,” Freddy murmurs beneath his breath, tapping me on the shoulder as he passes to go back upstairs.
Rhys blushed again at Freddy’s words and a chuckle works its way through my lips.
“Do I want to know?” I ask Sadie quietly, arms crossed. She looks up at me and shakes her head.
“Nope.”
They all exit to properly dress while I start on pancakes, waffles, eggs, and everything any of them has ever requested for breakfast. Once the table is full with both food and my friends, we all settle in.
Mornings are loud now, where they used to be quiet. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. It’s hard not to notice where I sit: at the head of the table, alone. That while Rhys watches over Sadie at his side, and Ro watches over Freddy, the one person I want to take care of most isn’t here, letting me watch over her. I worry she never will be.
It’s easy to imagine Paloma here, sitting at a chair pulled up beside me. Eating the food I made for her, warm feet tucked under my thigh, bundled up in a sweatshirt with a messy braid. Maybe she’d let me feed her. Maybe she’d talk with everyone—or she’d be like me. Quiet, just taking it all in.
But she’s not here.
“Sometimes I think you’re not real. That I dreamed you—”
I shake my head, shoulder twitching to my ear.
Everyone thinks Paloma is the party girl. A good time, fun and drunk and smiling. They think she thrives under burning strobes and a moshing sea of bodies.
But I know her.
I know she likes quiet most, or an early morning when only the distant noise of birds chirping fills the space.
I know she plays ocean sounds to fall asleep, that she’s at peace when she’s in the water.
I know that she would rather sit in complete silence, in my clothes, in my room, than attend another party.
But I also know she’d willingly choose to cause herself more pain than ever allow herself to have those things.
I really know her. I might be the only one who does.
My Paloma Blake is a secret I will always keep safe, closest to my heart.