I LEAVE Stassie Tetris-ing our suitcases and head to the kitchen to grab her a drink, desperate to get out of the way so she doesn’t ask me to help.
Pushing the door open, weirdly, the one person I’m not expecting to bump into is my dad. It sounds silly to say you bumped into someone in their own house, but he’s never home.
I suspect he hasn’t noticed me, too busy engrossed in whatever he’s reading, but then he speaks. “What time are you leaving?”
“A couple of hours.”
“I like her. She’s strong willed. That’s good. She’ll need it if she wants to succeed. You love her?”
“Yes.”
He nods to himself and finally looks at me, linking his hands and resting his chin on them. “She reminds me of your mom when I first met her. Bold, beautiful, not afraid of anything. She called your grandfather a pigheaded misogynist once, y’know.” He smiles, and for the first time in so long, it feels genuine. “To his face as well. I almost choked on my drink, I was mortified, and when we argued about it, she challenged me to prove he wasn’t a pigheaded misogynist.”
I lean against the worktop, giving him my full attention, desperate to hear about Mom. “I didn’t know that.”
“I couldn’t, obviously. Your grandfather was a bastard, for lack of a better name for him. He was very hard, and your mother didn’t like it about him. I think she was the only person who’d ever stood up to him in his whole life. She was the only person who ever stood up for me, at least.” He picks up the papers he was reading, and I think the conversation is over, but he puts them back down, sighing. “Anastasia loves you, too, that much is clear. A woman like her, one like your mom…she’ll be fiercely loyal and protective. You’re lucky.”
“If Mom was so great, why did you do it?”
I don’t need to clarify what it is. He knows what I’m talking about, even if I haven’t said the words.
“Humans make mistakes, Nate.”
“Some mistakes are unforgivable.”
He nods. “I know.”
Stassie burst into the kitchen, slowing when she spots the two of us on either side of the island. “Sorry to interrupt, I can jus—”
“What’s up, Stas?”
“I need you to sit on the case. It won’t close and Sasha isn’t heavy enough.”
“I’ll help in a second.”
She nods, leaving as quickly as she arrived. I look back at my dad, but he’s returned to whatever papers he was looking at earlier.
Right now, with the defeated slack of his shoulders and the blank expression on his face, I realize, for all his faults, no one can loathe him more than he loathes himself.
IT FEELS BITTERSWEET to be heading back to LA. Sure, putting a thousand miles between us and my dad is the best thing to do for everyone’s sake, but I didn’t get enough of watching Stassie go full big sister on Sasha.
I know I should be grateful for the day they did get together since we weren’t supposed to see her at all, but I’m greedy. I’m greedy to see them both so happy in each other’s company.
Stassie’s New Year’s resolution is to read more, so our entire flight back to California is spent with her nose buried deep in the book she bought at the airport.
“It’s a reverse Pretty Woman retelling,” she tells me excitedly. “She’s autistic and she hires an escort to help her get better in bed. It’s so good and Stella is so funny and cute.”
I pinch the book from between her fingers, examining the turquoise cover, then flicking to a random page in the middle of the book. “You’re reading porn in public? You’re disgraceful!”
Her hand flies toward my mouth, shushing me as I throw my head back laughing. “Stop shouting,” she rasps, looking around to see if anyone is listening to us. Her voice lowers, and she pulls me closer. “It’s not porn. It’s a romance book that happens to have a little bit of sex in it.”
She tries to hide her face, but I hook my finger under her chin, tilting her face up to mine. I gently press my lips to hers, leaning into her ear to whisper. “Anything you read, I’ll do to you when we get home.”
When I lean back, I can see thousands of possibilities flashing across her face. “It’s honestly not that kind of book…but I do have some at home that might be,” the flush of her cheeks intensifies, “of interest to you.”
“I love a woman who enjoys reading.”
“FUCK OFF, Hawkins. You’ve had her for weeks, can’t you share her for two freaking minutes?”
I wasn’t even doing anything when Sabrina started hurling abuse at me. Well, I leaned over to kiss Stassie on her head as I passed the pair of them, but other than that I’ve left them alone. Henry, however…
“You’re not the only one who needs to talk to her, Sabrina,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and putting his big-ass feet on the coffee table like a petulant child. “I have stuff, too, y’know.”
Crossing the room, winking at her instead of going near her, because Sabrina fucking terrifies me, I throw myself down beside Hen. “S’up with you?” I hand him a beer while he looks at me like I’ve got two heads. “Your stuff? Can I help?”
“I don’t have stuff…but I could have stuff if I wanted to have stuff. I could have more stuff than Sabrina. I could have more stuff than all you guys.”
“No one has more stuff than Sabrina,” Robbie whispers, looking over his shoulder to check she’s not listening. “Both metaphorically and literally.”
Catching up with the guys took all of fifteen minutes when we got home, but Sabrina can’t do anything within fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes is her minimum warm-up time.
After another hour of hushed conversation in the kitchen, Anastasia saunters over with Brin and squeezes her ass between me and Henry. “Did you have a nice Christmas, Henry?”
“You drowned,” he says in response.
It stuns her a little and her head whips round to look at me, quickly looking back to Henry. “I know, but I’m okay now. Nathan pulled me out.”
“You could have died.” He’s looking at his hands instead of her, and I don’t know why I’m surprised. Henry loves Stas like she’s his sister, and he’s messaged me every day to check she’s okay. I thought that was enough for him but clearly not.
“But I didn’t and I’m here,” she says softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.
He stands up quickly and heads to the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator for longer than he needs to. “Can we go to bed? I’m tired,” she says to me quietly. I take one last look in Henry’s direction and give her a nod, knowing the kid needs a bit of space.
Following her upstairs, we work as a team to wash, undress, and brush until we can tumble into bed. She snuggles into me, tracing her fingers across my chest. “I miss your bed.”
“Want me to buy the same mattress?”
“No,” she says, dragging out the O like she wants to say yes. “There’s no point, you’re graduating in six months. It’ll just be something else for you to move out.”
“Yeah, but you’ll still be here.”
The temptation to fail this year and retake it so I get to graduate with her is strong. Weird? Yes. Do I care? No. I think Vancouver Vipers would care, though, and that’s the only reason I go to class.
Anastasia uncurls herself from my body, moving to sit facing me with her legs crossed. “Nathan…I don’t want to live here next year. Especially since you’ll be in Canada.”
“Why not?” An uncomfortable feeling settles in my stomach, and I wish I could go back thirty seconds and not start this conversation. “Why do I feel like you’re about to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”
“You probably don’t, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about it.” She chuckles, placing her hand on my thigh. “I love that you guys seem happy with me living here. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without you. But like I’ve told you so many times, I want to go back to my apartment.”
“You want to live with the guy who shit-talks you constantly?” I say harshly, far harsher than I intended.
“Look, I know it might not make sense to you, and it doesn’t have to. Brin has been filling me in on the stuff I’ve missed while I’ve been phoneless, and I think Aaron is finally ready to sort things out.”
“Anastasia, he’s been vile to you. He’s a liar and a bully. You don’t need him.”
“Yeah, I’m more than aware! It plays on a loop in my head, but I’m not suggesting I’m friends with him. And I do need him. He’s my skating partner and unless I want to start from scratch, which after two years of pain I’m not prepared to do, I need to find a way for the two of us to work together again.”
“I fucking hate this.”
“I know you do, bub. And I love how protective you are, but me living here was always supposed to be temporary. Do you know how hard it is spending every second with you, knowing you’re leaving me in six months?”
“I don’t like the idea of moving, either, but you know I have no choice!”
“It isn’t what I mean, Nathan. Of course, I want you to play for your dream team. Even if you weren’t already signed, I’d support you going anywhere.” She sighs, and that noise, the one I hear so often, the one that tells me how mentally exhausted she is with this situation, makes me hate the fact our holiday break is ending like this. “What I mean is I want to be excited for you in six months, not crying because I don’t want you to move out. I think it’ll be a lot easier if I live in my own place again.”
She taps her fingers against her lips, and her leg bobs; she’s nervous. My heart hammers. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The hand on my thigh rubs up and down, comforting me before she’s even given me whatever shitty news she’s about to. “Aaron’s been cleared to skate. I was going to tell you in the morning because it’s been such a long day, but I think it means you can go back to hockey.”
Playing hockey again should be music to my ears, but in reality, it feels like she’s slipping away. “So we’re not going to be skating together and you’re moving out,” I snap. “Will I just be a Thursday night hookup, then? When you can make time for me in your planner?”
I regret it as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Her eyes widen and I watch her body tense. “You’re upset, Nathan, but please don’t talk to me like that.”
I apologize, but the shame I’m feeling doesn’t allow me to talk above a whisper.
“You’re my boyfriend and I love you. I will see you as much as I possibly can, but you’re jumping to conclusions. I’m hearing him out. That’s all.”
“You have a big heart, Stas,” I mumble, pulling her body back to mine, instantly feeling better now she’s back in my arms. “I don’t want him to break it, more than he already has. I don’t trust him, but I trust you and your judgment. I’ll be there for you whatever you decide.”
She drifts off to sleep quickly, and I listen to the soft sound of her breaths, letting them soothe me as much as they can. It doesn’t work and I fall asleep thinking about how much I absolutely do not trust Aaron Carlisle.
THE SMELL of fresh flowers is overpowering every single one of my senses, and I’m itching to get back in my car. The florist is taking her sweet-ass time wrapping up the peonies I picked out, and I’m painfully aware of JJ milling around behind me, mumbling to himself. “What’re you grunting about?”
He tucks his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I want a hot guy to buy me flowers.”
I stare at him, waiting for his signature smirk to break, to know he’s joking. “You’re serious?”
“I’m just saying, flowers would be nice, y’know? The people I date always expect me to buy them flowers. It’s always, ‘JJ, wow, your dick is so big,’ or ‘you’re so smart,’ or ‘JJ, that was the best sex of my life.’ It’s never, ‘JJ, I bought you some flowers.’ Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He kicks at something invisible with his foot and wanders off to look at some sunflowers.
When I turn back to the florist, she’s stopped working to listen to JJ’s flower tragedy too. I’m shaking my head as I reach into my pocket for more money. “Can I make it two bouquets, please?”
I still have the sickly sweet floral smell stuck up my nose on the drive back home. JJ has a shit-eating grin on his face as he clings to his light blue peonies, Anastasia’s pink ones resting between his knees to prevent them from getting damaged.
Manipulative little shit.
I’d love to say my desire to buy my girlfriend flowers is only because I love her, but if I’m honest, they’re guilt flowers.
Beautiful, expensive guilt flowers.
I don’t like how I talked to her last night, and while I apologized and I regretted what I said immediately, in my head I wanted to say a whole lot worse.
I wanted to shake her and remind her of all the horrible things Aaron has said to her, all the ways he’s made her feel awful. Make her see exactly why he should be in our lives as little as possible.
But that’s not fair because she knows. I’ve held her while she sobbed over his words; she knows exactly why she should stay away from him. I can’t pretend there isn’t a huge chunk of me that simply doesn’t want to share her with him.
Skating with her basically every day for six weeks has spoiled me. Waking up beside her, cooking with her, even down to working out and studying with her has spoiled me.
What if she makes up with Aaron and she doesn’t need me?
I want to build a life with her—one that’ll exist when Maple Hills is a memory—so this feels like we’re about to go backward. Every instinct is telling me to cling to her, interfere, protect her, but I know it isn’t right. I won’t be that guy; I won’t just cave to myself after Anastasia has worked so hard to work on herself. She deserves the best version of me, and that version trusts and supports his girlfriend.
He also buys her flowers when he’s a dick.
JJ and I went to see Coach Faulkner, and luckily, he was in great spirits. He always is after two weeks without us. He’s a family guy through and through, and despite how fucking terrifying he is, he’s a soft girl dad, so he loves having the holidays off with them.
He doesn’t talk about his girls much. Imogen and Thea are at least in their late teens now, but I’m too scared to ask—even if it’s to be polite.
Faulkner confirmed what Brinny said, which was both a relief and a stress. Aaron got a clean bill of health while he was back in Chicago for Christmas; Brady emailed him this morning to say everything will be back to normal tomorrow.
“Cheer the fuck up,” Coach demanded when I wasn’t as overjoyed as he was expecting. “If this is about that girl, Hawkins. I swear to God…”
“She’s my girlfriend, sir.”
He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “Just what you needed in your senior year—a girlfriend. For the love of God, make sure you use protection. I mean it, for both of your sakes, wrap it up.”
JJ snorts beside me, until Faulkner spears him with one of his famous glares. “Don’t even get me started on you, Johal.”
