Chapter 3 #2
He already scares off half the guys on whatever team we end up playing against. But I guess I can’t complain too much because I know the alternative. It’s either this or chugging down vodka like water.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Preston pulls the towel tucked into the waistband of his sweats and uses it to wipe the moisture from his face and neck.
“Really?” I ask. “’Cause number forty-three would probably beg to differ. I think you knocked a few of his teeth out.”
Preston’s jaw clenches like he’s hoping I either didn’t remember that or that I at least wouldn’t bring it up. He cracks his knuckles before reaching for his water bottle, and I know he only starts chugging to buy himself more time.
But I wait.
That’s all I think I can do anymore.
He finally pulls the water bottle away from his lips, clearing his throat and wiping away strands of his hair that stick to his forehead.
“I’m good, Lu.”
No you’re fucking not, man.
I want to argue with him that avoiding what’s going on with his mom is only causing him to act more like a dick.
Preston Nole isn’t really known for his filter but then again neither am I, apparently.
“Fine.” I throw my hands up in surrender. “We’ll save the therapy talk for tomorrow. I booked you a slot for noon but you have to call me Dr. Callahan.”
He chuckles. “Yeah fucking right.”
I watch as he stands up from the bench to walk over and snatch his phone off the table but he doesn’t turn the music back on—instead, he begins walking toward the door. He gestures for me to follow.
“How’s Melody doing in school?” he asks.
We begin to walk side by side, back toward the locker rooms but neither of us are in a rush. Although we probably should be, considering I have yet to shower and sweat sticks to the neckline of Preston’s white shirt.
“She’s doing really good.” I nod. “Passing all of her classes with flying colors.”
The mention of my little sister’s school makes the urge to thank Preston yet again bubble up. “Thanks again, man. I’ll pay you back. I mean it might take me all of eternity if this whole hockey thing doesn’t work out, but I’ll do it.”
“Never asked you to.”
I shove his shoulder with mine, earning me a pointed look that has only ever scared me when I first met him during our freshman year.
Now I simply feel accomplished when I’ve earned that look.
“You didn’t lend me ten bucks for lunch, Nole. You saved my parents from having to take out another loan. I’m paying you back.”
He shrugs his shoulders in that infamous Nole way. Like he knows damn well he did me a solid but isn’t going to dare brag about it.
“Tell you what.” Preston comes to a stop right before we turn the corner. “You tell Mel to give me back literally every watch she’s stolen from me and we’ll call it even.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Melody has claimed those as hers now.” I pat his shoulder to soften the blow. “My mom told me she carries that black one with the red clock handles around religiously.”
Preston’s eyes widen before he sighs and shakes his head, turning away from me to start walking again but I catch the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth.
I know more than anyone that Preston has a soft spot for the youngest of the Callahan bunch. When he flew out to San Diego with me for summer after our freshman year, it was clear that my family was now his.
And to think that back then I was nervous as shit for him to meet my family. Melody, specifically.
I mean, it’s not like Nole and I were having a secret love affair. I just wanted him to like my family.
Melody was eleven at the time and due to her autism, she has always had a hard time getting along with people.
Scratch that.
Most people don’t get along with her.
But Preston didn’t treat her differently. In fact, when the two of them are together, they’re fucking terrors. Preston isn’t the best influence and Melody happily eggs him on.
The only reason I even braved up enough to ask him for a loan was because they get along so well.
Melody just entered high school this past summer and because kids are cruel, she started to struggle socially and academically.
Her school counselor suggested a school designed specifically for special needs.
It sounded just like what Melody needed.
Having people around that were similar to her.
Not having to worry about being teased or shoved.
Only problem was the tuition was almost more than what my parents made in a year.
Enter Saint Preston.
He seems to not think dropping that amount of money is a big deal, but I do. Especially since the calls from his mom started shortly after.
I need Preston to know he’s not a wallet I want to feed off. Sometimes I think he’s aware of that, otherwise I don’t think he would’ve agreed to help at all. He doesn’t really do anything unless he wants to.
But my guilt for not being able to take care of my own sister eats away at me. I’m the only brother out of five kids. I’ve always looked out for my sisters. And Preston already pays the rent. What more can I take from the guy without giving anything in return?
Preston is now the one to shove my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts like he knows I need it.
“You know your little sister is walking around with a Ferragamo, right?”
“I don’t speak rich, Nole.”
“I forget.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re only fluent in being a pain in my ass.”
We stand just outside the door of the locker room, neither of us attempting to go in. I can hear whatever teammates are left talking amongst themselves, the building starting to feel quiet and empty.
I try to ignore the antsy feeling pulsing through my fingers when I remember I’ll have to find something else to fill my time with for the next few months. No amount of pre-season training seems to scratch the itch of being out there on the ice.
Boxed in by the crowd.
Teammates by my side.
The blades of the skates allowing me to glide across the ice.
Sometimes it feels like the only time I’m ever not worrying about anyone else. Out on that rink, I don’t have to worry about preconceived questions or if my smile came across as genuine instead of tired.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the attention off the ice, but sometimes it’s nice not having to prove a point to anyone. To just do my job out there on the ice and have that be enough.
Preston and I eventually head into the locker room, parting ways to shower and change into clean clothes. I bullshit some more with Moose. Everyone steers clear of Preston. Slowly, players start to empty their cubbies for the season and file out.
Eventually it’s just me and Preston again, walking to the parking lot.
“See you back at the apartment?” I swing my key around my finger.
The dark sky and spring breeze creates goosebumps across my arms. My damp hair from my shower not helping.
Preston shakes his head, shifting his bag on his shoulder. His gaze is shifted downward for a split second and I think he might actually be ashamed by the words that are about to come out of his mouth. But he quickly recovers and is back to pretending he doesn’t emote.
“I’m heading over to Grace’s.”
Why am I surprised? “Dude, seriously? How long are you going to keep that going?”
We remain standing on the sidewalk. Preston doesn’t bother to break eye contact so neither do I.
“Me?” Preston arches his eyebrow. “At least I get something from Grace. What about you and that blonde?”
My spine straightens and I’m ready to throw a punch if Preston crosses a line.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Careful, Nole,” I warn.
The shithead now has the audacity to grin, hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. I don’t see you getting laid and yet you follow that girl around like she’s got you on a leash.”
I should really just start letting him drown and wallow away in his own distress if this is the thanks I get.
“You done being an asshole?”
“Never.” He chuckles. “But face it man, I don’t think her and Grace are much different. Nice wouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind when describing either of them.”
I shrug my shoulders, stepping off the curb. “What can I say? A little cattiness gets me going.”
Preston groans, head thrown back. “And that’s my cue to fuck off.” He begins walking the opposite way in the direction of his own car.
“You know you love me, Nole!” I shout across the half empty parking lot but he’s already waving me off, bringing his phone up to his ear.
I remain standing in the parking lot, the ground damp beneath my sneakers and the air smelling faintly of gravel and dirt. I’m now more aware of just how sore my body is, exhaustion settling deep in my body.
And I’m standing completely alone.