Chapter 7
SEVEN
CONNOR
The first week back in class always kicks my ass harder than I think it will. I drag myself out of my economics lecture, wondering why on earth I signed up for it.
“So much for an easy start to the new year,” Finn grumbles beside me.
“It’s going to be a stroke of luck if I manage to keep up my grade point average this year.”
“Tell me about it.” He sighs, pushing the door open. I follow him out into the cold. “Are you coming for dinner? Aiden is cooking.”
The snow crunches under my boots, as we hit the winding path towards the parking lot behind the library. I zip my jacket the whole way and stuff my hands into my pockets. “As long as Luke is nowhere near the kitchen.”
“I think he learned his lesson after the Christmas cookie disaster.” We both shudder at the reminder.
There are a lot of things that Luke is great at, but cooking is not it.
He almost set the off-campus house they share on fire making cookies before Christmas.
The ones that didn’t burn completely tasted like dirt.
I’m not sure how he managed that, considering the dough was premade and all he had to do was scoop it onto a baking tray.
He’s been banned from all kitchens ever since.
“Count me in. I’ll meet you over there.”
He salutes me, before veering off towards his car three slots over. I climb into my Ford Bronco and tail him to the hockey house.
The two story, Victorian style house looks serene covered in snow. Someone has cleared a path from the front steps to the driveway, but still dozens of footprints track back and forth between the wrap around porch and the sidewalk.
I chuckle at the sight, knowing it was probably Ollie’s form of payback for making him park on the curb.
There’s only space for four vehicles between the attached garage and driveway. Ollie lost his in a very intense game of go fish on Thanksgiving that almost resulted in a broken window. He’s been grumbling about it ever since.
Finn beats me to the front door, leaving it open for me to pass through. The house is warm and smells like rich curry.
I toe out of my boots in the hallway and hang my jacket on the overfilled coat rack , before following the sounds of booming voices to the dining room. The guys are all perched around the table with their textbooks out. Finn takes the seat next to Luke and pulls his laptop out of his bag.
I slump into the nearest chair.
“Think fast,” Ollie says from the end of table. I look over just in time to see him sliding the puck he’s been twirling on the table my way. I block it on instinct, one hand shooting out to grab it before it can clash with the water pitcher on my left.
Luke scowls at him. “No pucks in the house.”
“Sorry Dad.” Ollie snickers, stealing the plastic disc out of my hands. He sets it on its side next to his textbook and starts to twirl it again, while he reads.
“How was econ?” Tanner asks, glancing up from his textbook.
I groan. “Worst decision ever.”
“Should’ve picked something lighter.” Luke snickers. “It’s not like you’ll need it for anything.”
“Making a living?” I deadpan, earning me an eyeroll from Luke.
“We have the entire league looking our way. There’s no reason for any of us to worry.”
He’s not wrong.
With our scores up this year, it was no surprise when both Aiden and Luke were snatched up as early picks by the Dallas Star Raiders, the same team Luke’s dad spent most of his career on.
The only reason Luke hasn’t jumped ship yet is because Coach insists we stick around until after graduation.
He’s seen enough athletes blow their whole career in their first season without something to fall back on.
The rest of the team has garnered plenty of interest too, but I’ve been keeping my head down, avoiding any attention in my direction.
They all think I gave up the draft to become a free agent. It was the only way I could get them off my back after I pulled my name last year. I keep trying to tell them the real reason, but every time I try the truth gets lodged in my throat.
I love playing hockey, but I’ve seen the toll a lifetime on ice takes, and I’m not willing to put myself through that.
“Food is ready.”
“Finally,” Ollie groans, letting the puck fall to the table as he slams his textbook shut.
Aiden shoots him a pointed look. “You could’ve helped.”
“And get in the way of you? No way, you’re scary enough without a knife in your hand.”
We stack our text books in the center of the dining table, while Luke grabs a pile of plates from the kitchen and Aiden sets down a steaming pot of curry at the end of table.
“Are you watching the Bruins game with us next week?” Tanner asks, while I’m piling rice onto my plate.
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “The kids are playing in Boston, so I’m driving up with them.”
“You’re still coaching then? I thought that was just temporary.”
“It was, but I like it.” I shrug. “Figured I would stay as long as it works with my schedule.”
Coaching them keeps me busy and my head from spinning.
The conversation shifts to last night’s game while we finish up dinner. Afterwards I help them clear the table and load the dishwasher–my standing contribution to the weekly dinners I keep crashing here–before I pack up my things and head back out.
It’s snowing again when I climb into my car.
I’m three blocks away from home, when my phone rings and Mom’s caller ID lighting up the media display.
“Hey honey.” Her soft voice booms through the car speakers and lodging itself in my chest. I saw her last week, but I already miss her. “How was your first week back?”
“Rough,” I admit. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from her. “How’s Ellie?”
“She keeps asking for you.”
“Is she there? Can I talk to her?”
“Sarah took her to the park.”
“In the cold?” An irrational protective urge surges through me.
Her laugh trickles down the line. “She wanted to make snow angels and apparently our backyard wasn’t suitable for it.”
When it comes to my two-year-old niece, none of us can ever say no to her. I suspect she’s starting to catch onto it—on Christmas morning she asked me to paint my nails the same color as hers. She kept giggling every time she caught sight of the sparkly nail polish whenever I reached for something.
“Of course, it wasn’t,” I chuckle, letting my head fall back against the seat rest. The tug in my chest pulling me back home gets a little stronger every time I leave, but lately it’s been almost constant.
“How are the guys doing?”
“They’re just as crazy as they’ve always been.”
“Somethings never change.” She laughs. “I hear Luke has the Dallas team wrapped around his little finger.”
“He was practically born into that jersey.”
“What about you?” I groan, not wanting to answer because I know what she’s going to say. I should have known that my lack of an answer wouldn’t stop her, because she quickly continues, “This place is too small for you, honey. There’s nothing for you here.”
“Geez, thanks Mom. Way to make me feel wanted.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” She sighs. “You were always made for more. I just don’t want you to throw it all away because of some misplaced sense of duty.”
“That’s not it.” I’m quick to say, but deep down I know it’s a half-baked lie.