Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
I t took an obnoxious amount of pleading to get Hunter to leave my apartment the next morning. I woke up feeling sore, but overall, I wasn’t hurt. My headache was gone and with a few painkillers, I could move around without wincing. Hunter needed to leave for two back-to-back away games, and he begged me to check in with him every time I left my apartment. The notion was sweet, but I could handle myself. Plus, Jackson could see my location on Life 360, if Hunter was worried, he could have Jackson check that. There was no need for him to be overbearing. I would be careful and if anything out of the ordinary occurred, I’d report it.
My phone rang just as I crawled back into bed. I groaned. If this was Hunter checking on me, I would kill him. To my surprise, it was Robby video-calling me. I quickly clicked the ‘answer’ button, his face taking up the frame of my phone.
Robby didn’t have an Adonis-like look. Instead, he had a boy-next-door vibe. He had big brown eyes, floppy black hair that he constantly swept out his eyes, and an imperfect nose. You’d think his nose would dominate his facial features, but it didn’t. It balanced out his eyes and angular jaw. A large, toothy grin broke out across his face when I answered .
“Bitch!”
Instantly, I laughed, “I’m sorry, I’ve been hiding under a rock.”
“Hiding? You look like you just got back from shacking up with someone!” He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I shook my head.
“Is it shacking if they stay in your bed?”
Robby screamed, and I covered the speaker to mute his shrill voice.
“Who?!” His voice cracked.
“Hunter St. James?”
“Hunter, hot as sin, St. James?!” Robby walked into his dorm. He disappeared from view for a few moments, throwing his coat and belongings down.
I contemplated what to tell him. I could let him know that Hunter and I were, well, something. A fling? Flinging? Fucking? How does one categorize letting someone sexually dominate you while on skates and occasionally come to your rescue? Hunter and I didn’t exactly slap a label on what we were. He didn’t ask me to be his girlfriend, more to remain exclusive while exploring each other’s bodies. Label wasn’t necessary either—I didn’t need a boyfriend right now.
“The one and only?”
Robby’s eyes bugged out as he processed my confession, “You’re WHAT?! Excuse me, I need details. Length, width, frequency, hold on let me get my notebook.”
I covered my face, hiding the pink staining my cheeks. He was kidding about the notebook, at least.
“I don’t know, it all just kind of happened. He’s been hanging around a lot more and we’ve been coaching a kid’s league together and I may or may not have ridden his hand while still in skates.”
“You little slut! I am so proud of you!” He cooed.
I ran a hand through my knotted hair. “Jackson’s pissed.”
“He can fuck right off. Your brother doesn’t own you. ”
“It’s his best friend, not to mention I may have gotten into a glorified catfight with a puck bunny.”
Robby threw his phone across the room. My best friend had a flair for the dramatic, “Missy!” He yelled retrieving his phone, “I take off for one semester and you not only get finger banged by the hottest guy on campus, but you fought someone that wasn’t during regulation time?”
His use of hockey terminology made me proud. He had come such a long way over the years. “It’s been a bit of a wild ride over here,” I sighed.
Robby looked contemplative. “You’re doing okay, though, right?” The unasked question hung between us. Was I doing okay? Was there more that I wanted to tell him? Robby had a knack for reading me.
“Yeah, I’m hanging in there, taking it day by day and all that other grief counseling mumbo jumbo.” I waved my hand dismissively.
He wanted to say more, or perhaps press more on the subject. Robby, although persistent and sometimes annoyingly outgoing, knew when to draw the line. He wouldn’t push me to talk about something I didn’t want to. He steered the conversation back towards lighter topics. We spent the next fifteen minutes catching up. Robby was a shameless flirt and gave very detailed play-by-plays of all the men he liked to galavant with. Our conversation ended all too soon, and my heart ached from his absence.
Just like Jackson, I’d been distancing myself from Robby, too. I was an island, and it took Hunter barging into my bubble for me to realize it. I contemplated calling Jackson. There was still a bit of time before they got on the buses. Hunter mentioned that the two of them worked out their issues, but Jackson had yet to broach the subject with me.
Decision made, I began to Facetime him before chickening out. I waited, my phone in my hand as it sang the annoying Apple Facetime tone .
He picked up, his hair disheveled, and his headboard in the background.
“You okay Maci? Is that a bruise on your chin?” He asked breathlessly.
I had woken up with a slight bruise on my chin. I must’ve hit it against something during my stairwell scuffle. Nodding, I felt awkward with the interaction. Things were always seamless between us. We were twins, our relationship was natural. Now, there were so many things standing between us. We were more like passing boats than siblings.
“I face-planted going up some stairs.” It wasn’t a total lie, and pretty believable. It happened all the time in our house growing up.
“O-kay then.”
“I think we should talk.” I pulled my blanket up to my chin, using it as a defense mechanism.
Jackson nodded thoughtfully. “Hunter told me about you two.”
I sighed. “It’s a lot more than that, but I understand if you’re pissed about that, too.”
“I’m not mad about you dating my best friend. I’m mad that I had to hear it from him instead of you.”
That was shocking. Jackson clearly didn’t want to talk to me. Did he think I would take the time to announce my fling-ship with his best friend? I still was trying to get him to see my side of the Hockey House fight!
“Can you blame me? After everything with Tiffany?”
Jackson averted his gaze. “I’ve been the worst brother to you.”
“No, you haven’t, I’m the one who's been a mess,” I played with the frayed edge of my blanket. We had so much unsaid between us, it was hard to lay it all out there.
“I haven't exactly been a shining beacon of support,” he conceded .
“We both have made mistakes, but what did Dad always say?”
“We’re stuck with each other?”
I laughed. “It was a lot nicer than that, but yeah, pretty much.”
A smile broke across Jackson’s face, and the gap in our rift closed.
“I’ve never asked you how you are, Jax, and I’m sorry about that.”
His smile became forced. An outsider wouldn’t notice, but years of interaction had taught me otherwise. “I’m okay. There are things I could have handled better, but I’m working on it.”
Jackson was looking at something off camera, and my curiosity piqued over what had his attention.
“Jackson Killian Rae, is there a girl in your room?”
Jackson’s eyes met mine swiftly, widening considerably, “What?! No!”
I laughed as he became flustered. “Jackson, I swear if Tiffany was in the middle of blow-”
“Do not finish that sentence for the love of God!” Jackson tried to cover his ears, dropping his phone.
My maniacal laughter filled the air. I hated the bitch, but the idea of Jackson trying to shove her off of him to answer my Facetime was hysterical. My brother, in all his golden boy persona, had a single fault—the guy loved puck bunnies. I never got into it with him because what he did in his sex life was his business, but Jackson was a serial fuck ‘em and dump ‘em kind of guy. I had heard enough on campus over the years to know he had a one-night-only rulebook. Plus, he didn’t bring anyone home for the holidays when we used to celebrate them.
“Fine, I’ll stop, but if Tiffany is there, ask her how her face is for me?” I smiled sweetly at the camera and Jackson scowled .
“I haven’t seen Tiffany since the fight. Cool it.” His face darkened considerably, forcing me to drop the subject.
I cleared my throat and ventured to a new subject, “So Thanksgiving is coming up…”
Jackson nodded knowingly. We both didn’t want to go back to our house in town. Eventually, we needed to box up Dad’s things and decide what to do with the place. For right now, it was a museum of days past.
“I think I’m going to go home with Axel,” Jackson volunteered.
“I’m going to binge-watch The Vampire Diaries and order pizza.”
Jackson winced. I didn’t want him to feel bad for me. The idea of doing nothing all day besides indulging in my favorite show sounded like heaven.
“I could ask Axel about you coming with us. His mom loves cooking for people.”
I swatted my hand in the air. “No way! I don’t need a pity invite, really I want to watch T.V. all day and gorge on pizza.”
“If you’re sure…seriously, text me if you need me.”
“I appreciate that, but we need to figure out what our new normal is going to be, and I think we can both agree we don’t want to sit in the house alone.”
“Agreed. Although I bet Muriel would take pity on us again.”
“Ugh, those leftovers were horrible. Do you remember how dry that turkey was?!”
We fell into an easy conversation after that. Jackson let me know he needed to get going so he could get ready for their game. I promised to watch, and he made a joke about how I was only watching for Hunter. It felt good to resolve things with him. We had a long road ahead of us, but it felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel.
Now I just needed to figure out who was targeting me and make Team USA. Simple right?