Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Noah
Of Which I Am One
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mom tells me for what feels like the hundredth time today, her hand pressed to my cheek and eyes filled with tears.
“I come every year,” I remind her. True, I only did lunch last year, then went to Friendsgiving with the team at Coach Benson’s, but Izzie asked me to be her buffer today, so I’m not going anywhere.
“It’s just really nice to all be here together, you know?”
“Heather, leave the poor boy alone.”
I know Doug, Tatum’s dad who seems to be back in the on stage with Mom, is trying to be helpful, but I have to hold myself back from asking him not to talk to her like that.
“Will you carve the turkey, baby?” she asks of me.
“Of course, Mom.” I hated the ‘baby’ nickname growing up because it made me feel like such a child, but I needed it after Dad died, when I checked on her in bed and she’d usher me under the covers and call me baby.
I believed it was safe in there. When, a month after the funeral, Mom was still in bed and I was taking care of her, the house, and Izzie, I started to resent it.
Because I had to be the damn adult while she was the one acting like a baby.
But that’s not the kind of thing you say to someone who’s buried deep in depression and drowning in grief, so I hold my tongue, like I always do.
Doug brought his parents, as well as his sister, Abigail, who’s only a few years older than me.
Doug is barely over thirty, which is probably a contributing factor to my disliking him.
In addition to the way he strings Mom along and makes a fucking distinction between Tatum’s grandparents and Izzie’s.
Which wouldn’t be a big deal if they were all present, but Grandpa and Granny Callahan died when I was Izzie’s age.
Supper isn’t bad. Doug’s parents go home after, but he and Abigail stay over. I’m a gentleman, so I leave her my room and sleep on the floor in Izzie’s, which turns into camping in her fort and probably the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years.
On Friday, I have practice at four, but the prospect of brunch with my mom and Doug is enough to have me heading out early, though I have to wait for Abigail to come out of my room so I can go in and get my shit.
“Is that yours?” I ask of the book on my nightstand as she watches me pack up. The cover is a cartoon of two people on a skating rink, with the guy in a hockey jersey.
“Um…yeah. Sorry, I’ll make sure not to leave anything.”
“No, that’s not…I was just thinking that looks cute. Maybe I’ll get it for Izzie for Christmas, if it’s any good.” I take my phone out to snap a picture of the cover.
“Please don’t.” She jumps in front of me looking…embarrassed?
“You don’t think she’ll like it? She loves hockey.”
“No, that’s not…” My confusion, and new opinion of her, must be apparent, because her cheeks go red and she says, “It’s smutty.”
“As in…”
“There’s sex. A lot of it. Detailed.”
Oh.
But… “In a kid’s book?”
“It’s not for kids.”
“There’s a cartoon.”
“I know,” she tells me. “Hockey romance is all I read, and I promise you, it’s not because I love hockey.” Her face is red, and I suddenly understand why she was embarrassed.
I want to reassure her that we’re cool and I in no way judge her for her book preferences, or feel ogled or whatever, but then it hits me.
That Savannah is currently writing a hockey romance.
Which means she either won’t sell many copies, or she’s writing about sex.
With college hockey players. Of which I am one.
I have a lot of feelings about this.
“All hockey romances?” I ask.
“The ones I read,” Abigail agrees. “I’m sure there are a bunch that aren’t spicy, and people must read them, but…” She lets the thought linger, but her face tells me she has no interest in that shit.
“If I had a friend who was writing a hockey romance set in college…”
“I’d bet ninety-nine to one there’s smut,” she tells me. “Unless she’s really into hockey, I guess.”
Nope. Hockey was definitely not the driving force behind Savannah’s decision.
“Cool. I have practice, but thanks for the talk.”
“Of course.” She swallows. “And this really isn’t my business, but thanks for coming yesterday. I get that it was for your sister, but my brother really appreciated it. My parents too. They try, but it’s hard.”
I want to say it would be easier if they stopped referring to themselves as Tatum’s grandparents, effectively excluding Izzie, but I heard her remind my sister to call her Aunt Abby, so my beef isn’t with her.
“I’d do anything for Izzie,” I say instead. “Guess I’ll see you over Christmas?”
“I’ll be here,” she says as if I’m the uncertain one, when this is literally my home…
but I guess we have games and practices over the holidays, and watching Doug with my pregnant mom last year had me spending more time in my dorm, and at Coach’s than I had to.
For a minute, I worry that my dislike of Doug is the reason Izzie doesn’t like them, and decide to make an effort and keep these opinions to myself from now on.
She could use a father figure, and I do the best I can, but I’ll never be my dad.
Half the team goes to Slapshots after practice. Of the five of us living in the house on Ivy, two of us grew up within a few hours’ drive, while the other three are from Los Angeles, so they flew home for about forty-eight hours and look slightly worse for the wear after landing this afternoon.
“You good?” I ask Owen while David and Colt are at the bar getting shots, which are a terrible idea, but they have fake IDs and it’s none of my business. No idea how this place survives without getting shut down when they must know most of the team is underage.
“I hate leaving holidays early,” he tells me. “But this is nice. I’m glad we did the big off campus house.”
“Me too,” I assure him.
“What did you do? How’s Izzie?”
“Just dinner at home with my mom’s boyfriend’s family. We kicked a ball around in the backyard, which Izzie seemed to enjoy.”
“And your brother is Tatum, right? Half-brother,” Owen amends.
“I don’t use the distinction, but yeah.”
“That’s good. A twenty-year age difference sucks if you count the half.”
“You’re eerily close with your dozen siblings,” I point out, only slightly exaggerating.
“Because they put in the effort. Consistently.”
“I do too.” Or I try to. Usually, my mom or Doug has Tatum, so I chill with Izzie, but I did my best to put in some face time yesterday and this morning.
“That’s good. Family is everything, man.” He’s a little drunk, but not as bad as the group that dubbed today Blackout Friday.
“Blood of the covenant, dudes,” Colt argues.
Everyone toasts to it, which makes me think they might not know what the expression means, but last week I overheard Colt trying to get out of going – he has a nasty habit of taking calls on speakerphone – and his father’s argument was that they were taking pictures and people would talk if he wasn’t there.
Not once was it even implied that they would miss him.
“Hey Noah.” One of the Kappa Taus comes over and sits in my lap.
“Hey Crystal.”
I put my hands on her waist, something I would normally do to pull her closer, but tonight I’m not feeling it, so I lift her off me and drop her in the chair next to mine. She bristles, but treats it like a game, running her hand down my chest.
“Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you at our parties lately.”
“Season started, so we’re busy,” I give a flimsy excuse. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Crystal. She’s ambitious and has no time for feelings, but still treats me like more than a body.
“He’s been spending a lot of time with his sister,” Colt adds with a wink, probably assuming he’s helping me score after seeing how girls swooned after our last game Izzie came to, when he briefly had her on his shoulders.
But all it does is make me think of Savannah, who I’ve also been spending a lot of time with, and who I might have misjudged.
Because I downloaded one of those cartoon hockey player books and they’re neither sweet nor innocent.
They’re filled with all the things I want to do to her, and if she’s into that…
“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Crystal brings me back to the conversation. She almost looks sad that I didn’t tell her, but it isn’t like we ever talked about our families.
“She doesn’t go here,” Michael shares. “She’s…eight?” He looks to me for confirmation, so I nod.
“That’s adorable.”
“Speaking of, we’ve got a game tomorrow, and practice, so I’ll see you guys at home,” I tell my roommates. “Nice seeing you, Crystal.”
“I’d love to meet her sometime,” she tells me, suddenly nervous when I’ve only ever seen her confident and in charge.
It brings a pang to my chest. She’s not the first to want to switch up our arrangement, to make things more than sex, but that’s my cue to end things and feel like an ass.
Only this time, I’m pretty sure it’s on me.
That I’ve been pulling back not because she did anything wrong, but because I’d rather hang out with Savannah.
Colt and David stay, but Michael and Owen come home with me. Michael passes out before we leave the parking lot even though he only nursed one beer, and I’m pretty sure it was non-alcoholic. I think Owen is out too, until he speaks.
“It’s smart to keep them close.”
“Who?” I ask, not sure if he’s talking in his sleep, or giving me profound advice.
“Kids get so attached, you know? They wear their hearts on their sleeves, and then it’s all, ‘Where’s Cami?
’ And you don’t know until after, but she promised a bunch of things she doesn’t show up for anymore, and you hate her, because it doesn’t even matter that she broke your heart, she broke Emmy’s and I can’t forgive that. ”
Emmy is one of his many nieces, and I know from Colt that Cami was his high school sweetheart who ended things when he chose to come here and play hockey instead of using his dad’s money to party with her in L.A., but I’ve never heard him say her name before.
“Kids are resilient, and I’m sure Emmy will be even happier when she meets the girl who supports your dreams and keeps her promises.”
I don’t know what I’m saying, because I only have Izzie and she still hasn’t warmed up to Doug, but I quickly go from relief that I never introduced Izzie to my casual hookups, to breaking out in a cold sweat because I’ve done nothing to stop her from getting very attached to Savannah.
“Shit.”
“Dude, I’m not talking about her.” One look tells me he knows exactly where my mind went.
“But she’s—”
“No offense, but I think Savannah’s the type who’ll show up to whatever she promised Izzie, even if you fuck things up. Which, now I think of it, probably also sucks, because how do you stop loving someone who does that? Way easier if she’s a bitch.”
“We’re not together like that. We’re just…”
“Friends?” he asks with a laugh that echoes from the back, where Michael is apparently not unconscious enough to not make fun of me. “Don’t worry, if you don’t get your head out of your ass, I have no doubt Savannah and her new boyfriend will watch Izzie during your games.”
I’m pretty sure he’s saying it just to get to me, to let me see how stupid I’m being, but even knowing it’s not currently happening, it still feels like a punch to the gut.
Like I can’t breathe. Because I can’t be that guy for Savannah, but as much as I want her happy and to have everything she wants, the thought of it makes me see red.
Especially because he’s right. Anyone good enough to deserve her would humor her request to hang out with an old friend’s sister, and I’d have to quit hockey, because no way in hell can I look up from the ice and see Savannah with someone else.