Chapter 18
eighteen
SEBASTIAN
We only have a three-day gap between the playoff series we just won and the next round.
Outside of painting a few miniature figurines and hitting up the children’s hospital to spend some time with the kids in the cancer unit, I was hoping to spend those days with Indie, but she’s been avoiding me.
She hasn’t answered any of my calls, instead texting me back hours later.
It’s frustrating as hell, because I don’t understand what happened. I kissed her, she seemed to like it, and then she told me it was a mistake.
I scoff. Mistake, my ass.
“Dude, what?” Griffin arches an eyebrow at me from one of the chairs of his rooftop retreat. After two days of me blowing up the group chat with frustrated messages, the guys suggested—okay, demanded—I join them for beers and pizza while the ladies have a girls’ night at Maddox’s place.
So here we are. “I’m not crazy.”
Ryder snickers into his beer bottle before exchanging a look with Logan.
“I’m not. She kissed me back. Like, really kissed me back. Hell, she practically climbed me like a tree, right? I didn’t imagine that.”
It’s not only Ryder laughing after I say that. Apparently, all four of them are very amused by my growing frustration.
“Yeah, man, I was a little worried she was going to come in front of a room full of people.” Maddox shakes his head, pops the top off another beer, and shoves it into my hands. “So, no, you didn’t imagine it.”
“Thank you,” I say loudly, clinking my new beer against his. It’s my fourth? Fifth? Who knows? All I know is that my usual two-beer limit won’t cut it tonight.
“When’s the last time any of you saw him drunk?” Ryder asks. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk.”
“It’s been at least a few years,” Maddox replies. They’re talking to each other like I’m not here.
It’s annoying.
“Sure. Pretend I’m not even here. Just like Indie. It’s totally fine. I don’t hate it at all.”
Logan snorts, and the assholes spiral into another round of laughter. I’m never the one acting like a fool out of the five of us, and they’re enjoying this a little too much.
“You need to talk to her,” Griffin says. As if I haven’t tried. Many times.
“Oh, is that all I need to do?” I chug half of my new beer before slamming it down on the glass coffee table in front of me. More than a dozen empty bottles clink against each other from the force: a symphony of bad decisions.
“Is this the thing that’s finally going to push responsible, steady Bash over the edge?” Logan says out of the side of his mouth to Maddox.
“Again, still here, assholes.” I finish the bottle and reach for another.
“Sure looks that way,” Griffin replies. “And as fuckin’ hilarious as it is, I also feel bad for our Bashy-cakes.”
“That’s a stupid fucking nickname,” I mutter.
They laugh harder.
“You’d love it if you weren’t such a heartsick grumpy fucker,” Griffin retorts.
“Doubt it.”
He laughs again but tries to hide it when I glare at him. It makes him choke on his beer, and he ends up coughing and spluttering.
“That’s what you get.”
“We need to do something about this,” Maddox says. Again, not to me.
Ryder nods. “Agreed. They need to talk. Get everything out in the open. Because there’s no way she doesn’t have feelings for him.”
“We all know people aren’t always rational when they’re in love,” Griffin says, looking pointedly at his brother-in-law, who almost torpedoed his relationship with Isla because he made some idiotic assumptions about a conversation he overheard her having with her ex.
“At least I didn’t blackmail my wife into staying married to me,” Maddox throws back at Griffin.
“Don’t be a hater. I’m still married to her, aren’t I? All’s well that ends well.” Griffin narrows his eyes at me. “So we need to help Bashy-cakes get his own happy ending.”
“In more ways than one,” Logan says. “Maybe getting laid would help him chill the hell out.”
“Fuck you.” I glare at him over my bottle of beer as I take another swig.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Maddox sets down his bottle of beer and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me with an annoyed expression. “We can’t afford to have you turn into a hothead before this next playoff series. You’ve got one day left to get your shit together.”
“I’d love to get my shit together,” I say mockingly. “But the infuriating woman won’t answer my calls!”
“Then you stop calling her.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes so much sense.” I glare at Maddox, because this isn’t helping.
“It does, actually.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times before leaning back in his seat and giving me a smug smile. “Our car should be here in ten. If she won’t answer her phone, you’re going to show up at her house. You don’t leave until you hash this shit out.”
“I feel like this could go very wrong,” Ryder says to no one in particular.
“Probably,” Griffin says. “Do you have any better ideas?”
Ryder shakes his head. “Nope.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Why do you get to sit in the front?” Griffin whines from beside me. We’re packed like sardines in the back of a large SUV with Ryder lying on top of mine, Griffin’s, and Logan’s laps.
Thank god the women aren’t here, because Lexi would rip us all a new asshole if she witnessed this.
“Because I’m the one who ordered the ride,” Maddox replies.
“I’m going to get pulled over,” our driver mutters to himself. “I have five drunk hockey players in my car, and one of them isn’t buckled. I’m going to lose my license.”
“Chill, brother,” Griffin says. “We’re only a little drunk. Well, Bashy back here is more than a little drunk, but the rest of us are fine. As long as you don’t get into an accident, we’re good. We’ll give you a huge fucking tip and make all of this worth your while.”
“Can I get a selfie with you guys when I drop you off?” the driver asks.
“For sure.” Griffin tries to give him a thumbs-up, but he ends up poking Ryder in the face.
“Dude.” Ryder glares at him.
“I hope I don’t regret this,” the driver mutters.
“Me, too.” I try to shift so the armrest molded into the door stops digging into my side, but I end up with Griffin’s elbow in my ribs.
By the time we pull up in front of Indie’s rental, we’re all annoyed and claustrophobic, and we spill out of the car with none of our normal athleticism or grace. Maddox sticks his head back into the car.
“Stay here. He won’t be too long, then we’ll have you drive us back. We’ll make it worth your while.”
“No problem,” our driver says. Then he turns to me. “Good luck with your girl.”
I really hope he’s cool. Otherwise, he knows enough about my history with Indie after that car ride that he could probably make a pretty penny selling it to some gossip rag.
Indie would hate my guts for that.
The guys surround me, hyping me up the same way they do before a game. They rub my shoulders, mess up my hair, and remind me of the plan: to calmly and gently try to get Indie to talk about our past and her feelings.
“You’ve got this,” Ryder says, giving my shoulders a squeeze.
“Calm and cool,” Griffin adds.
“Right. Yeah. I’ve totally got this.” I shake my arms out and hop in place a few times. “I’m going in.”
I don’t wait for any of them to respond before I’m striding up the sidewalk and onto Indie’s porch. And then I knock.
It’s only midnight. She should still be up, right?
When she doesn’t answer the door after a pause, I knock again, harder this time. “Indie. Indie, open up!” I knock more.
When I turn around to look at the guys, they all give me a thumbs-up.
“Indie!” I pound on the door a few more times. “Come on, Rosebud. I know you’re in there.” I raise my fist to knock again when the door swings open.
“What in the actual fuck, Sebastian?” Even glaring, her pink hair wild and messy, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And when she crosses her arms over her chest and pushes her breasts together, wearing nothing more than a cotton tank top and some sleep shorts, my dick hardens.
She’s so pretty, she can even overcome whiskey dick.
I know we came up with a plan on the way here, but my brain empties in her presence.
Which is why I blurt out, “Why did you stand me up that summer when we were eighteen? I waited for you. And when you didn’t show up, I went to your parents’ house, but they wouldn’t tell me anything.
I called you. Like a hundred times. But you blocked my number. You just disappeared. Poof. Gone. Why?”
Indie opens her mouth, then closes it. Lola pokes her head out to check on things, but when she sees it’s just me, she smirks and heads back inside.
“I had all these plans, Indigo. It was going to be the best summer of our lives, then you up and disappeared like I didn’t mean a fucking thing to you. How could you do that?”
Indie stares at me for a beat, then scans the neighbors’ houses before her eyes land on my guys and narrow. “Are you drunk?”
“So what if I am?”
“Unbelievable.” She shakes her head at me. “I’m not doing this with you. Not while you’re drunk, and not in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, we’re doing this,” I say. “You’ve been ignoring me for two days. No, not two days. Ten years and two days. Enough is enough.”
“Lower your voice,” she hisses, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside before shutting the door. “Someone is going to call the cops.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will if it gets out. Trust me.”
“Why’d you do it?” I ask again, advancing on Indie. She takes a few big steps backward until her back hits the wall, and I cage her in with my arms. “You broke my fucking heart, Indigo Bloom.”
She stares at me, incredulous for a moment, before she says, “I broke your heart?” and laughs mirthlessly.
I nod. “You did.”
“That’s real fucking rich, coming from you.”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You broke my heart, you dick!” She jams her pointer finger into my chest. “How dare you try to turn this around on me?”