Chapter 14
SOMEWHERE SOFT TO LAND
BJ
Winter is in the parking lot when I arrive at the beach. I don’t want to be the one to break her heart like this. But it’s better me than Logan—or worse, her dad.
I pull into a spot, and she leans her bike against the low fence that separates the lot from the beach. She’s on me the second I step out of the Jeep, one hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to hers.
“Whoa. Hey. Hi.” Half an hour ago I was all about Sweet Spot Saturday. Now everything is different. I’m about to turn her entire world upside down.
“Hey. I’m super glad you’re here. Today has been a bag of shit, and you’re the only person who can make it better.” Her backpack clinks when it hits the ground. “I brought you a gift.” She unzips the bag and holds it open.
“Vodka and gin, huh? Is it martini night, then?” I try to smile, but everything is off.
“This is what my dad bought with my tuition money. He didn’t pay the car insurance. He didn’t buy groceries or get someone to fix the broken washing machine. He bought booze and smokes and rubbed it in my fucking face.”
“I’m so sorry, Snowflake.” I hate that this is her life, her normal.
She smooths her hand over my chest. “I shouldn’t have gone home after the game.
I should have gone anywhere but home, but I had leftovers from the team lunch, and they had the best desserts, so I figured I’d just leave one in the fridge for my mom—even though she’s the one who told my dad where the money was.
It’s so fucked up, BJ. She throws me under the bus all the time, and I still feel compelled to take care of her.
Why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep putting myself in positions where I know I’m going to get hurt? It’s so stupid. What’s wrong with me?”
I tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Nothing is wrong with you, Winter. You’re just trying to survive in a life that doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“You know what he said when he saw the stitches? He didn’t ask if I was okay.
He didn’t even ask what happened. He told me my face was the only part of me worth looking at, and now I’d fucked that up too.
I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t keep doing this.
” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I need to stop talking. You’ve already seen what a mess I am. I’m too much of a hassle.”
“Hey. Stop.” I cup her face in my palms. “Take a breath.”
She looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown.
Kissing her won’t solve her problems, but it’s a distraction from the shit I’m about to pile on top of her already bad day.
I press my lips to hers. “You deserve better than this, Winter. I will tell you every damn day that you’re gorgeous, inside and out.
A few stitches won’t change that.” I stroke her cheek, wishing I could make her life better, hating that I’m about to make it so much worse.
“You can love the person and not love their actions.”
“I just want out, BJ. Of this life. Of my head.” Her chin trembles. “I just want to feel something other than hopelessness.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wish this wasn’t so hard.
” I wrap my arms around her, and in that moment, I think I finally understand what it means to hate someone.
Really and truly. Because I hate her dad for what he’s done to her.
Hate that she’s stuck in a life she didn’t ask for, hate that she feels compelled to protect someone who’s so deep inside the abuse she lets her daughter be her human shield.
Hate that the only thing her father does is cut her down.
I hold her for long minutes, wishing we could stay inside this bubble. What’s coming next will hurt so much worse than what she’s already been through. And I can’t protect her from it.
“I want to escape my life for a little while.” Her hands slide up my chest, and she curves her palm around the back of my neck. I let her pull my mouth to hers, and I get lost in the kiss right along with her, wanting to postpone the inevitable, but knowing I can’t.
When her hand starts to travel down my chest again, I catch it in mine and break the kiss.
Her gaze roams over my face. “Should we go somewhere else?”
Dread fills me. Noxious. Toxic. I wonder if this is how Winter feels every time she goes back to that prison of a home. “I need to tell you something.”
She frowns and drops her hand. “Your expression and tone aren’t reassuring.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I squeeze her hand. “Your mom had an accident.”
The color drains from Winter’s face. “No, she didn’t. She’s fine. We were texting half an hour ago.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, hands trembling as she taps on the messages. I catch a little of the content. Mostly it’s her mom begging her to apologize and make it easier on everyone.
Winter’s last message to her mom is that she needs time to cool off.
It still reads as unread. She sends another one, but it too will remain unread. I just don’t know for how long.
“The ambulance had just arrived when I drove by. They were taking her to the hospital.”
Even as she shakes her head, she asks, “What happened?”
“I think she fell, but I don’t have a lot of information yet.”
A look of horror crosses her face. “No.” She shakes her head and steps back, bumping into my Jeep. “No, no, no.” Her hand goes to her mouth. “This is because of me. This is all my fault.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I made him angry, and now she’s in the hospital.” She grabs my arms, nails digging in. “I need to see her. I need to see if she’s okay.”
“I’ll take you to the hospital.” I guide her around the hood and open the passenger-side door. She climbs in, hand over her mouth, eyes wide with worry.
I zip up her backpack and toss it in the trunk since it’s full of liquor bottles.
Once I clip her bike to the rack, I rush around to the driver’s side.
I turn the engine over and adjust the volume on the stereo so Robert Smith isn’t belting out “Pictures of You,” and instead, it’s just soft background noise.
“I’m scared, BJ,” she whispers.
I set my hand palm-up on the center console. “I know. I wish I had more information. We’ll be there soon, and then we can find out what’s going on.”
She laces her fingers with mine. “I shouldn’t have left her alone with him.”
“I know you’re used to holding the blame, but you had every right to get out of there. Parents aren’t supposed to rip their kids apart for making mistakes.”
“I just need her to be okay. She has to be okay,” Winter murmurs.
I don’t tell her everything will be fine, because I don’t know if that’s true. When we get to the hospital, a nurse tells us Winter’s mom is in surgery.
“Surgery? What kind of surgery? What happened?”
“She took a nasty fall and broke her arm and her leg in multiple places. They’re putting in pins and plates.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“The doctors will be able to update you in a couple of hours. I can show you to the waiting room, if you’d like. Your dad is already here.”
She turns to me, eyes wide.
“That’d be great,” I tell the nurse. “I got you, Snowflake. You don’t have to do this on your own.”
We follow the nurse down the hall.
“I don’t know how we’re going to afford this. I don’t know what my dad’s plan at the ice cream factory will cover,” she whispers.
My mom is Canadian and so is my uncle Alex, so healthcare has always been a huge part of the Hockey Academy, especially since so many players are subsidized. “The Hockey Academy has a family fund. It’s specifically for situations like these. My dad will be able to help.”
“I hope we don’t lose the cabin,” she murmurs.
“You won’t. They won’t let that happen.”
When we reach the waiting room, the nurse tells us she’ll be back with an update as soon as she can.
Winter’s dad is stretched across three chairs.
He’s wearing worn, grass-stained jeans and a holey T-shirt.
The room smells like an ashtray and a brewery.
One of his shoes is on the floor, and his big toe pokes out of a hole in his sock.
A pack of smokes peeks out of his jeans pocket, and his mouth hangs open. He’s fast asleep.
Winter grinds her teeth as she unlaces our fingers and pokes him in the shoulder. “Dad. Wake up.”
He startles and sits up in a rush. “The fuck is wrong with you? You don’t wake me up when I’m sleeping.
” His eyes dart around as he takes in his surroundings.
For a moment he looks confused, but when he sees me, his eyes narrow.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “’Bout time you finally got here.
I left you a voicemail a long time ago.”
Her hands ball into fists and her voice shakes with barely restrained fury. “I thought it was more of you telling me how useless I am and not to come home, so I didn’t listen to it. What happened to Mom?”
I hate this for Winter. I hate that she’s here and scared and the person who should be comforting her is a complete loser of a parent. And I hate most that she blames herself for this nightmare that she had no hand in creating, but is forced to live with.
His eyes shift to the side and he mumbles, “She took a fall.”
“How? From where?” Winter presses.
His eyes lift for a moment before they drop again. “She was upset. Worried about all the money your stitches were gonna cost us.”
“I already told you it won’t cost anything. What happened?”
“Don’t you raise your voice at me, girl.”
Winter’s back expands on a deep inhale, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Please explain what happened. Is Mom gonna be okay?”
“She went outside, needed some fresh air after all the drama you caused today. Winding everyone up. Only thinking ’bout what you want.” He rubs at his jaw. “I been tellin’ her to stay away from the railing, but she didn’t listen.”
I’ve only seen the front of Winter’s place from the water, but it’s high up on a steep incline.
Winter’s knees wobble, and she clamps a hand over her mouth. “No.”
His eyes dart away again. “The railing gave out.”
Her body goes rigid. “You’re a fucking liar!” I rush forward and grab her around the waist before she can launch herself at him. “Let me go!” She tries to pry my hands free, shouting at her dad. “You did this! You put her here.”
Her dad holds his hand up like he’s fending her off, like he’s afraid. And maybe he is. He sneers and glares at me. “Be careful with this one. She gets like this. Bad temper. Lashes out. Causes her mom a lot of stress.”
“Seems like maybe she has a right to lash out where you’re concerned,” I snap.
Winter’s nails dig into my arms, but she stops struggling, and her voice is a broken whisper. “What did you do?” she asks him again.
“Come on, let’s go for a walk.” I guide her out of the waiting room. There’s a stairwell across the hall. I push through it, the door closing with a quiet snick.
“He did this. He did this to her. I know it. I know he did.” She slides down the wall, hands shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I left her alone with him, and now she’s in the hospital, BJ.
I can’t ever get out. I can’t ever have anything good.
He just takes it all away.” She sucks in gasping breath after gasping breath.
My cousin Lavender used to have panic attacks when she was younger.
And sometimes my roommate Kody did too, especially around exam time.
He had strategies to deal with them, and I search my mind for a way to help calm Winter.
But all I remember is Kody doing breathing exercises, or naming the things he could see.
I crouch and wrap my hands around her calves. “Hey, hey. Breathe with me, okay? Take a breath. Slow and steady.”
She does as I say, timing her breaths with mine. It takes a couple of minutes, but she gets herself under control. “He’s lying about what happened,” she whispers.
“Can you explain that to me?”
“You know we got into it on Friday after you dropped me off, about me playing hockey behind their backs.” She curves her hands over her knees. “He was blaming it on my mom, saying she must have known. He got all up in her face and grabbed her arm, so I got all up in his.”
I fight not to let my own anger bubble to the surface. She doesn’t need more toxicity. She needs patience and softness and understanding. “What happened then?”
“I just needed to get him away from her. He does this. Takes my mistakes out on my mom because she won’t fight back the way I will.
The deck is in bad shape. The railing needs replacing, and I ended up cornering him right where it’s the worst. Not on purpose.
It just…worked out that way. But he knows how bad that railing is.
What if he pulled the same move on my mom?
What if he got her out there, but he didn’t back off and the railing broke?
It’s a big drop, BJ. Like two stories up.
And it’s all rocks. What if she’s not okay?
” She dashes away her tears. “Every time I have something good, he ruins it. And now he’s ruined her too. All because I’m selfish.”
I thought I understood how hard Winter’s life was, but I didn’t realize it was like this. “You’re not selfish.”
“But I am. I knew how angry he was when I left tonight. I knew, and I went anyway. And now my mom is in surgery, and I don’t know if she’s going to be okay.”