Chapter 4 Fletcher
four
Fletcher
Tate and I can pick up booze for the Halloween party after I pick her up.” I jump onto the counter as Zeke searches the fridge for leftovers we can put out for the party.
“Get a lot,” he mumbles, pulling out a container, popping the lid, and sniffing it. “Do you know when we made this? It’s chili dip… I think.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I chuckle. “Does it smell bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone here is probably gonna be hammered, Zeke.” Jere drops his hockey bag on the floor and brushes by Zeke to grab his water from the fridge. “They won’t care what they’re eating.”
“And we’re ordering pizzas again anyway. I think Brinley said something about Declan and Jax picking up a bunch of snacks, so I don’t think you need to scour the fridge for leftovers.”
“Yeah, but I kind of want to get rid of some of this.” Zeke grabs another container and sniffs the contents. His nose scrunches up, and then he tosses the whole container into the trash.
“I take it that one was expired?” I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows.
“That was more than expired. I’m surprised it didn’t start growing other shit. I couldn’t even tell you what that was.”
“I’m gonna go hit the ice for a couple of hours. Anyone want to join me?” Jeremy slings his bag back over his shoulder.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I hope off the counter. “It’s barely been two weeks since—”
“I’m fine, Fletch. I feel good. The pain medication is doing its job. I can barely feel it.”
“You just stopped using the cane two days ago,” Zeke argues. “What would your physical therapist say about you getting back on the ice?”
“She was actually the one who told me to do it,” he replies.
I’m usually pretty good at reading Jeremy, but I can’t tell if he’s lying or not.
Jere is typically a pretty honest guy, but I also know he’s hating this.
He hates the fact that we are winning games without him.
He hates the fact that Coach still isn’t sure when he’s gonna let Jere back.
He hates having to go to physical therapy, take pain meds, and sit on the bench while we all do the one thing he’s not allowed to right now.
“Just take it easy, okay?” I begin. “I want you back on the ice more than anyone, but I want you back permanently. I don’t want you to push yourself and then…”
We all think about it. We all think about what would happen if Jeremy were hit wrong during a game.
We almost lived it a couple of weeks ago.
Ever since his first back surgery, he’s been doing great.
He has mild pain here and there, typically when he takes one too many body checks against the glass, but he’s back on his feet in no time.
Until O’Connell hit him. I think that when it happened, it hit all of us that one wrong move and Jere could be out of the game for good.
Or worse.
“I’ll be fine.” Jere puts a hand on my shoulder. “Promise. I thought you’d like me being out, you know, getting to be on first line with the guys.”
“I’d rather be second if it meant you being back on that ice,” I respond. “I’m not O’Connell. I don’t pray for your downfall.”
“You could come skate with me for a couple of hours then.” He smiles. “Then you’ll know if I’m pushing myself too hard.”
“I would, but I have to head to Tate’s, and then we need to go get some booze for the party. And I have a feeling she won’t even be close to ready by the time I get there.” Jere nods, his hand falling from my shoulder.
“What about you, Zeke?” We turn and see a mound of containers stacked on the island and a practically empty fridge.
“Hmm?” He turns toward us.
“Do you wanna hit the ice?” Jere repeats.
“I wish I could, man. But my whole reputation is riding on this party. I mean, who does Brinley think she is? Telling us we’re throwing a Halloween party but not giving me any time to actually prepare for it.”
“Okay, I’ll see you guys later.” Jeremy laughs as he heads out the door.
“Are you going to clean all those?” My eyes narrow at Zeke, who opens one container after another, sniffing the contents.
“Nah. Tupperware is meant to be thrown out.”
“It’s really not, actually.”
“They expect me to clean a container that had furry stuff growing on the food?” Zeke scoffs. “Nice try.”
He tosses the container in the trash.
“Okay, then.”
I don’t look at Zeke again; I just head toward my room to put on my very basic costume, hearing the echoing sound of containers hitting the trash can as I do.
Hey.” Tate lets the door swing open before heading back towards her bedroom. I wait in the hallway for just a moment and then walk in, shutting the door behind me.
“You seem a little frazzled.”
“I didn’t expect to be doing anything tonight.” She groans. “I thought you and I would just hang out here, have a horror movie marathon, drink some booze, and eat three whole pizzas by ourselves.”
“We could still do that.” I sit down on her couch, grab the remote, and turn on the TV. “I just have to pick up some alcohol for the party and bring it by, but we don’t have to stay.”
“Are you kidding me?” she yells, and I hear the water from her shower turn on. “Brinley would kill me if I weren’t there tonight.”
“Why did Brinley want to have this party so bad anyway?” I flip through the channels. It’s not like Brinley to want to throw a party. Especially after the last party we had at our house ended with her in tears.
I can’t blame her, though. I think the only person who doesn’t realize Brinley is googly-eyed over Jaxon is Jaxon.
I know it’s hard to watch the person you love flirt with someone else. Or see someone else flirt with them. I’ve been there.
Many times.
I don’t blame any of the guys who flirted with Tate in high school; I mean, she’s beautiful; how could you not want to flirt with her? But it wasn’t easy.
The water turns off, and Tate walks out of her bedroom, wrapped in a towel, her sopping-wet hair dripping down her shoulders.
“I don’t know.” Tate shrugs, walks to her fridge, and grabs a Dr. Pepper. She pops it open.
I can see in her eyes that she knows exactly why this party is happening. I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with Declan’s recent change in attitude.
“Maybe she wants to rub her new guy in Jaxon’s face.” Tate sits down next to me.
“New guy?” I twist my body toward hers, which causes her to turn toward me. “Since when?”
“I don’t know. We found out about him after the hockey game where Jere got injured.”
“Damn. She’s bringing him tonight?”
“Yeah.” She grabs the remote from my hand. “Another reason why I can’t miss tonight. I need to make sure he’s not a total tool.”
“Like Jaxon?”
Tate laughs, flipping to a new channel. “Jaxon isn’t a tool, he’s just—”
“An idiot?” I finish.
“Exactly.”
“Well, if we’re gonna go to this party, you’re going to have to get ready at some point. You should’ve almost been done getting ready when I got here.”
She tilts her head at me and raises an eyebrow. “You knew I wasn’t going to be ready when you got here.”
I did know… because we know each other better than anyone. I knew she’d open the door as if she were trying to hurry up and get ready. I knew she was going to hop in the shower because she sat on this very couch until she heard me knock instead of doing anything to get ready for tonight.
And I knew she was going to sit next to me on this couch and kill time because she got in and out of the shower in record Tate time.
And she knew I was going to get here early enough that she’d have time to do all of this.
“I did.”
“Or else you would’ve come right before the party to get me. With just enough time to stop and get all the alcohol and arrive before the first partygoers.”
“You know me too well.”
“Same goes for you.” She rests back against the couch, adjusting her towel as she rests her feet up on her coffee table like we have all the time in the world.
She finally finds a channel worth stopping on, so she does. The first Final Destination movie is playing.
I check my watch. We might be able to watch the whole thing, but only if Tate gets ready during the commercials.
“Hey,” she begins, and I stand up because I know exactly what she’s going to ask for.
“Popcorn.” Our voices blend together, and she smiles at me.
“Yes, please.” She clasps her hands together and gives me her signature Tate face.
“Coming right up.”
“You know,” she continues, “we probably have enough time to watch the whole movie. Only if I get ready during the commercials, though. If I don’t, we’ll definitely be late.”
I shake my head, toss the popcorn into the microwave, and press the start button.