Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Hunter: Heard you had an exciting night.
Hadley: Shut up.
Hunter: I’m taking you for breakfast. Get dressed, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
Hadley: Make it twenty.
I look at my sister over my bite of buckwheat pancakes, then swallow a mouthful. “Wanna tell me what happened?”
After I got home on a red eye flight this morning, I dragged Hadley’s ass out of bed. Even though it’s long past breakfast time, it’s the best hangover cure. So I drove her to Jackie’s, an old-school bistro with dark booths and black and white framed Hollywood prints on the wall. And apparently good avocado toast, according to Hadley. Something I will never order. Too hipster, and not nearly enough protein.
She’s a little pale still, but I think breakfast is helping. Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun on top of her head and everything about her ripped jeans and oversized sweatshirt screams “college.”
Rolling her eyes at me, she crunches her toast. “Honestly, Hunter. Nothing.”
“You called me, drunk, from a party.” I keep my gaze stern and train it on her.
“Yep. How many times have you been drunk at a party in college?”
“A lot.” I gesture with my fork. “But I worry about you. I know it’s only freshman year, but your classes are still important.”
“I’m going to class. And you never drank when you were a freshman?” Her eyes snap with anger, and she leans forward. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
I shrug. “I’m not a hypocrite. I’m a realist. And it’s different for guys.”
“Oh, different standards, you mean? Getting drunk and hooking up’s cool when you’re a damn hockey player? But if I—”
“Nope.” Staying calm, I cut her off. “Even if I’m drunk, no one can take advantage of me. But some guys, Hadley, some guys are jerks.”
“Except for you and your precious teammates, right?”
I bark a laugh, and it’s a harsh, sarcastic sound. “Them, too. Let’s make a rule that you’ll stay away from anything with a penis. Especially the hockey team.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Mom put you up to this, didn’t she? The ‘overprotective, stay away from hockey players, don’t get knocked up’ speech? Well, stop worrying. I’m covered. I have that implant in my arm.”
There are some things I really don’t want to know, and Hadley’s preferred method of birth control is one of them. I’m not touching that with Zdeno Chara’s extra-long hockey stick. My step-mom’s request to look out for Hadley pops in my mind, but I shake my head.
“It’s driven by personal experience, okay? Any guy you find at a frat party is probably bad news. Date someone you meet in the library.”
Her eyes soften, and it sends a shiver of fear down my spine. Crap, who is she thinking of? This is worse than when she was mad. Before I can ask, she clears her throat.
“I called to talk to you last night, not because I was in trouble. But your friend Natalie seems nice.”
She says the words in a teasing sing-song and waggles her eyebrows at me. Not sure how to reply, I shove another bite of pancakes in my mouth.
“So… is she a special friend?”
“No,” I mumble, my mouth still full. “She works for the team. That would be inappropriate.”
Would it? Didn’t stop me from fantasizing about her last night after falling asleep with her voice in my ear.
Hadley raises a brow. “Well, even if I didn’t need help, she was great. You owe her.”
“No, you do.”
Her mouth drops open. “I didn’t call her! You did.”
“And yet. It was your puke she had to clean up.”
“Did not!” Hadley gasps, then winces. “But maybe I should send her flowers?”
“Nah.” I shake my head, trying to think what Natalie would like. “She seems too practical for that.”
The same time I’m saying it, an image of sunflowers pops into my mind. Too big, too cheery, too happy. They’re probably her favorite. I bet she loves them.
“No woman is too practical for flowers.” Hadley scoffs, then taps her nails on the table. It gives me an idea. Something more personal than flowers.
“She mentioned not really having a lot of free time. Doesn’t seem like a girl who would treat herself to a spa day. Maybe a gift certificate for a manicure?”
A wide smile spreads across her face. “That’s perfect. You sure you’re just friends?”
“Of course,” I tell her. “Why would we be anything else?”
Why, indeed? That I can’t stop thinking about her means nothing.
Natalie’s house is smaller than I expected. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in this part of Lafayette before. While I’m not worried about it, I can admit that my Beemer looks out of place in her driveway. It’s not on cement blocks, for one, and there’s no duct tape holding it together. Unlike the car across the street. The dark clouds in the sky don’t help the picture, either. The entire atmosphere feels charged and ominous.
But I grab my sweatshirt from the passenger seat and step out. Her house is about the size of a postage stamp—a little ranch with white siding and a pile of leaves by the curb. After beeping the lock on my car, I knock on the faded red front door. Natalie’s eyes widen as she answers, glancing around. Blinking, she tsks and shakes her head.
“You bring stalking to a new level. But I think it’s traditional to watch from the bushes? Or the tree across the street? Do you want to borrow some binoculars?”
Chuckling at her, I hold out my gray hoodie. “I promised.”
Did I get irrationally excited when she asked for my hoodie? I’ll never tell.
Grabbing it, her fingers brush mine and send a jolt down my spine. Or maybe it’s the clap of thunder that echoes behind me. I jump, and Natalie peers around me.
She tugs me inside and closes the door as it starts to pour. “Come in for a few minutes and wait it out.”
“I won’t melt.” I protest, secretly glad to have an excuse to prolong this.
She purses her lips. “I don’t know, you have a surprising amount in common with the Wicked Witch. You might.”
“Are you going to drop a house on me?”
“Maybe.” Smirking, she punches my shoulder lightly and I bite back my smile.
“I am pop-uuuu-lar,” I sing, gratified when her mouth drops open.
“You like Wicked?”
“Idina Menzel? Of course. Girl’s got pipes.”
“Tell the truth.” Her eyes dance. “Do you also have a secret crush on Princess Elsa?”
I hold up three fingers. “Scouts Honor. She’s my favorite princess.”
“No!” She bursts into giggles and leans back against the entryway wall. We’re in a pretty small space, but she doesn’t seem in a hurry to move, and neither am I. “I can’t wait for our next top ten list, I have so many ideas now.”
I shrug. “Blame Jonas and Cooper. After Moana became our hype music, Spotify started recommending all sorts of things. ‘Let it Go’ led to ‘Defying Gravity,’ and now I’m hooked.”
“It’s so good, right?” Stepping out of the foyer, she spins back to face me. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water?”
“Sure.”
I follow her two steps inside and glance around the living room while she walks over to the kitchen. Like my apartment, the front door opens into the main living area and that looks into the kitchen. But I think my apartment might be bigger.
Her house is the polar opposite of the one I grew up in.
My dad’s McMansion is spacious, austere, and impersonal. It’s just the two of us, plus Hadley in the summers, but his house has seven bedrooms. Seven. Plus a basement, complete with entertainment center and game room, an office that his personal assistant refers to as “The Study,” and a room for my dad’s hockey memorabilia.
And not one of its 6,000 square feet in suburban Boston feel as much like a home as this tiny house. Matchbox cars and those extra-large Lego blocks litter the shag carpet in Natalie’s living room. Kid’s books spill out of a basket on the floor by an end table. The maroon couch is faded and shiny with wear, the cushions sagging. Tall lamps give off a warm yellow glow and family portraits dot the walls.
I toe off my shoes to go inspect them. “Portraits” is probably what my neighbors in Boston would call them. (My dad and I certainly don’t have any on the wall.) But these, I realize, aren’t posed shots taken by a professional. Rather, they are snapshots capturing a moment in time.
Natalie, in her red high school cap and gown, smiling wide. A girl I assume is her sister, holding a dark-haired baby wrapped in a blanket. Jace, wearing nothing but a diaper and playing in the sprinkler outside. Their faces are so full of joy in each picture that my chest hurts. How can I miss something I never had?
Would it be different if my mom had lived? She died in a car accident when I was a baby. If she had been around, would my dad have been less bitter? Maybe been a dad and not just a father. Would they have been happy together?
“Here you go.”
I spin around, and Natalie holds out a plastic cup from a local pizza place. She’s put on my sweatshirt over her leggings and t-shirt, and damn if it isn’t the best thing I’ve ever seen. She’s always so put-together at work, seeing her in casual clothes feels… intimate.
Taking the cup from her, I sip the water and shift my weight. “Sorry to crash your plans tonight. I’m sure it will stop raining soon, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
She shrugs. “It was nice of you to deliver my sweatshirt so quickly. Besides, my evening plans comprise this,”—she gestures at the TV—“until Jace wakes up and demands me.”
I raise a brow.
She sighs. “He has a bad habit of crawling into my bed for snuggles.”
I can see why.The thought pops into my mind, unbidden, and I brush it off.
Then Natalie gasps. “Oh, crap. The rain. I have to go check the roof!”
I grab her arm before she can run off. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but another bolt of lightning flashes through the blinds. “You’re not going outside in this.”
Her dark hair swirls around her as she shakes her head. “No, just the spot in my room.”
She’s gone before I get another word out. I shift my weight from foot to foot, examining the pictures again, until a squeal pierces the quiet. I move towards the sound, and—
“Hunter!” Jace attacks me, wrapping his arms around my legs. It tickles the back of my knees, and I look down into his beaming face. Those dark eyes, so like Natalie’s, stare up at me with adoration. “Can we play hockey?”
Natalie re-enters the room, a small smile on her lips. “Good news—no leak. Bad news—someone woke up.”
“Hockey?” Jace asks again, tugging on my jeans. I pat his soft hair.
“No, I, uh, came to give your aunt something.” I turn to her. “Leak?”
Relief fills her gaze. “It’s fixed, no worries anymore.”
Jace pulls my attention back to him. “Did you bring me something, too?”
Why am I disappointed to say no? I didn’t even think about Jace.
“Oh, buddy, I’m sorry, but—”
“Listen.” Natalie sits and pats the couch cushion next to her. “If you promise to be quiet, Hunter will watch an episode of Bluey with you.”
Meeting my eyes, she silently asks if that’s okay, and I nod.
Jace runs to her and leaps on the couch, a blanket flying out behind him like a cape. He has onesie pajamas dotted with dogs that cover his feet, and he pops his thumb in his mouth. Natalie tucks his blanket around him as he settles next to her and rests his head on her shoulder.
Looking at her over his head, I sit next to him as she turns on the TV. She keeps a running commentary going for him— “Okay, let me just find the right episode, now which one do you think Hunter would like?”—and I can’t believe how comfortable I feel.
I barely know this girl, I have no idea how to act around kids off the ice, but they make it easy. When Jace shifts and leans his head against my arm, I rearrange and let him get closer. He’s so sweet and trusting. Was I ever that innocent? I was younger than Jace when my mom died. I finger her necklace at my throat. I don’t have a single memory of her—smoothing my hair back from my head the way Natalie does to Jace, singing me a lullaby, tucking me into bed. Nothing.
But instead of being jealous of him, I’m filled with a fierce gratitude that he knows he’s loved. It’s clear Natalie is raising him just as much as her sister—maybe more. He trusts her, so he trusts me. It’s an unexpected weight, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable.
As Jace relaxes against me, enthralled by the dogs on the screen, Natalie meets my eye. “Thanks,” she mouths, and I nod.
There are a million other things I could do with my time. Why does this feel more precious than all of them? There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.