Chapter 18
DOWN SHIFT
Winter
“Oh! Oh my God!” Adele openly gapes at BJ, who’s wearing nothing but a towel.
This is not ideal. At all.
Adele crosses her arms. “This is why you were too busy to come to the costume fitting?”
BJ seems completely unaffected by her presence. “Wanna give us a couple of minutes, Adele?”
She pokes at her cheek with her tongue, eyes shifting to me for a second before she whirls and stomps off.
“You didn’t have to bail on a costume fitting for me.” I don’t want to be the reason for a fight between him and his partner, especially since they spend a lot of time with blades on their feet.
“This is the third fitting. I went to the last two. She keeps adding embellishments, and sitting there while they pin more sequins to her is a colossal waste of my time.”
“Three fittings? Is that typical?”
“It is for Adele.”
“Gotcha.” I don’t know much about Adele, other than she’s his pairs partner. She seems a little high maintenance, but then, BJ is always striving for perfection on the ice, so maybe this is one way she tries to attain it too.
BJ glances at our sweaty outfits hanging from the hooks. “You got a change of clothes in your backpack?”
“Yeah.” I’d like to avoid more awkward run-ins with Adele until I’m fully dressed.
“I’ll grab your bag.” He disappears around the corner and returns a few seconds later.
We rush to get dressed, and I stuff my dirty clothes in the large Ziplock I carry with me. It prevents my bag from smelling like sweat and dirty underwear.
“I’m sorry the afterglow bubble burst so quickly,” BJ says.
“Don’t apologize. You couldn’t have known this would happen.” I check my phone. It’s after twelve. My mom should be back in her room soon.
I wipe down my skate blades and tie the laces together so I can sling them over my shoulder, then follow BJ out of the locker room.
Adele is in full skater gear, makeup and all, leaning against the boards.
Her expression makes her look like she swallowed an entire bottle of lemon juice and chased it with vinegar.
She tries to smile at me, but it’s more of a constipated grimace.
She did just walk in on us in the shower together, so I can’t blame her for being unimpressed.
I turn to BJ. “My mom should be done with her tests.”
“I’ll give you a ride back to the hospital.”
“It’s cool. I’ll bike over.” I smile at Adele. “Your costume looks great.”
Adele looks down at herself. “This is just a practice outfit.”
“Right, okay.” Clearly I’m not winning any points here. I turn back to BJ and make things even more awkward. “Thanks for—” I motion to the rink.
Adele scoffs.
Yeah. Time to roll.
“Text if you need anything.” BJ’s fingers brush mine as I pass.
“I’ll catch up with you later.” I force a smile for Adele. “Nice to see you again.”
She makes a noise but doesn’t respond with words.
I’m all about running away and leaving BJ to deal with the residual awkwardness. Unfortunately my water bottle is on the other side of the rink, so I glide across the ice in my running shoes to retrieve it.
Adele’s voice echoes off the walls. “Seriously, BJ? You blew me off so you could what? Fuck your summer fling in the freaking locker-room shower? And you’re on me about keeping my priorities straight.”
“First of all, I didn’t blow you off. You’re the one who keeps having your costume altered. Me being there won’t make you any happier with the way it looks. And secondly, my personal life isn’t your business.”
I step off the ice, grab my water bottle, and set BJ’s on the sill so he doesn’t forget it. Then I leave before I overhear any more of a conversation that isn’t meant for my ears. I return my skates to my locker, unclip my bike from BJ’s Jeep, and make the short trip to the hospital.
I’ve just locked up my bike in the hospital lot when Logan Butterson comes strolling out the front door, dressed in his police uniform.
I freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. “Is my mom okay? Did something happen?”
He holds up a hand. “Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about. I just stopped in to see Lucy.”
“And ask her about what happened?” I fiddle with my backpack strap. Something hard is digging into the base of my spine.
He nods. “Yeah. I was hoping she might be able to fill in some of the gaps, but she’s having trouble remembering.”
“The doctors call it event amnesia. It’s because she hit her head and has a concussion.” I hate how on edge I am.
“Yeah, that’s what they were saying.” He rocks back on his heels. He has kind eyes that are so blue they remind me of tropical beaches. He looks like a Ken doll in a cop uniform, but with a rugged edge. “You mind if I ask you a couple of questions about what happened?”
“I wasn’t home.” I swallow down the guilt.
“Yeah, that’s what your dad said last night. He mentioned you hadn’t been honest about where you were, what you were doing, and who you were doing it with.” He tucks his thumbs into his pockets. Casual. Easy. Open.
I bite back a scathing response and pinch the bridge of my nose. “He doesn’t want me to play hockey, and he doesn’t want me to hang out with BJ. I was doing both behind my parents’ back.”
“You’re over eighteen, yeah?”
I nod. “I’ll be twenty in the fall.”
He hums and leans against the brick wall. “Are things a bit rigid at home?”
“Rigid?”
“You’re an adult. You’re playing competitive hockey, you have a job, and you seem pretty responsible, at least from where I’m standing. Doesn’t make sense that your parents would keep you on such a tight leash.”
I huff a laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t make sense to someone like you. And it’s not my parents; it’s mostly my dad.” I cringe. “Fuck. Sorry. That was disrespectful, and that’s not how I meant it.”
A half smile quirks up. “Don’t sweat it. You’re under a lot of stress. Want to have a seat and explain what you mean?” He nods to the bench nearby.
“Sure. Okay.” Saying no to a cop seems like a bad idea.
I fall into step beside him, his strides slow and measured.
“Your dad is a hockey legend,” I note.
“Yup. He sure is.”
“So you grew up comfortable, right? Lots of opportunities?” I shrug off my backpack and drop down on the bench, setting it at my feet.
“I did.” He takes a seat beside me but leaves a foot of space between us.
“You’ve seen my house. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived, which is saying something.”
“Lots of people struggle financially.” He crosses his legs, ankle resting on his knee.
“I know. But it’s more than the financial struggle.
” What BJ said about not staying inside the box that’s been made for me anymore is starting to make sense.
Keeping these dirty family secrets isn’t doing me any good.
All it does is tether me to a life I don’t want.
“Hockey is expensive, so the money thing is an issue, but more than that, it costs me time, when I don’t have much to spare.
My dad thinks I should be working more instead of playing so I can help with the household expenses. ”
Logan shifts and rests his arm on the back of the bench. “Aren’t you doing that with your job at Boones?”
“Yeah, but playing hockey means I’m not home to do the chores, like cut the grass, or make dinner, or make sure the garbage is taken care of and the house is clean. And in his eyes, hanging out with BJ is another way I’m shirking my responsibilities. Plus, he lives on the nice side of the lake.”
“So do you,” he points out.
“Yeah, but the cabin is falling apart. Hanging out with BJ and his friends, playing for the Hockey Academy, to my dad, it’s me striving for something I shouldn’t. He thinks I should be happy with what I have. And the worst part is, I get where he’s coming from, even though I don’t want to.”
Logan frowns. “Can you explain that?”
“We got into a fight yesterday when I came home with stitches in my face.” I motion to my chin.
“A visit to the hospital is an expense we normally avoid. I tried to tell him it was covered by the hockey program, but he just…lost his shit. Accused me of…” I tip my head up and focus on a fluffy cloud floating in the sky, gritting my teeth against the prick behind my eyes.
“You’re a useless fucking whore. You think that boy likes you? He knows you’re easy. Gonna treat you like the trash you are. Just you wait and see.”
“Mostly he was looking for a reason to fight, and he wanted someone to take his frustration out on, and that person is usually me or my mom. Playing for the women’s team is a dream come true.
BJ and your sister Lovey and Rose are all great.
Everyone has been so nice, and it’s hard to be part of that and then go back to the arguing.
To see the other side is one thing, but to live in it…
” I sigh and shake my head. “It makes me want to keep it.”
He shakes his head. “You’re talking like that’s not possible.”
I give him a look. “Come on, Officer Butterson.”
“Just call me Logan.”
“Okay, Officer Logan, even if things go great this summer and playing for the women’s team opens doors, how will I walk through them?
My mom won’t be able to work for weeks, maybe even months, because of her injuries.
She’s got pins and plates in her leg and her arm.
She’s suffered a concussion, so who even knows what the lasting damage of that will be.
Logically, working at the diner is probably out after this.
It’s too physically demanding. And she doesn’t have her high school diploma.
Neither of my parents does. So what kind of job can she get?
She only qualifies for minimum-wage work, and her tips were a big part of how we got by, because at least we could hide some of them from my dad so he wouldn’t blow everything on fucking beer and smokes.
” I raise a hand. “Sorry about the swearing.”
“No apology needed. I’d be pissed too if the fridge was bare, and the garbage was full of death darts and empties.”