Chapter 18

The Wednesday after our loss in Buffalo, the team holds a meeting at the Briar arena. Our season’s over, and for some of the seniors that means shifting their focus to the NHL teams that drafted them and getting in the best shape of their lives for summer training camp. For others, last weekend was likely the final time they’ll ever suit up. Today, however, we’re here for Coach Jensen.

Hunter stands in the center of the ice where we’ve gathered for a little ceremony of sorts. Coach, sensing something’s up, lingers just outside our circle with a suspicious look on his face. It’s an expression I’ve seen Brenna don on more than one occasion. It’s almost scary how alike Coach and his bitchy daughter are.

“So,” Hunter starts, “we brought you here today pretty much because we wanted to say thank you, Coach. This bunch of degenerates and hooligans wouldn’t have made it as far as we did without you, and even though we couldn’t bring home the big trophy for you, you made all of us better. Not just better hockey players, but better people. And we all owe you a lot.”

“Like bail money, right, Captain?” Bucky pipes up, getting a laugh from the guys.

“Thanks, Buck.” Hunter flips him off. “So anyway, thank you, from all of us. We got you a little something to show our appreciation.”

Gavin and Matt all but drag Coach into the center of our circle so Hunter can present him with the custom-engraved Rolex everyone on the team chipped in to buy. Which is to say, our parents did. Mom sent me a blank check with my stepdad’s name on it and I told Hunter to just write in the amount. I’d rather not know.

“Man, I, uh…” Coach admires the watch, at a loss for words. “This is real nice, guys. I, umm…” He sniffs, rubbing his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was about to cry. “This is a special group. I mean it when I say I’ve never had a better bunch of guys.”

“Better than the years Garrett Graham and John Logan were on the roster?” Foster demands, naming two of Briar’s most famous alumni. Graham and Logan both play for the Bruins these days.

“Let’s not be crazy now,” Coach replies, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes. “You all worked hard for each other, and that’s all I can ever ask. So thank you. This is great.”

Foster brings out a cooler of beers from the bench and passes out bottles while we all take one last chance to appreciate being on this ice together. I have no doubt next year we’ll be a strong team. But it’ll never be this one again.

Eight months ago, I showed up on this campus with a sudden pang of regret, wondering if I’d made a rash and ill-considered decision to ship my life nearly three thousand miles across the country to start over. I feared I’d never fit in with the ivy-covered legacies of this place, that I’d choke on the Ralph Lauren polos and inbred poshness of it all. And then I met these idiots.

I couldn’t have asked for better friends.

And Taylor. I’ve known her less than a month, yet I count her among the short list of people I trust. She makes me want to be a better person. With her, I feel like I can finally get something right, like maybe I can actually have a real relationship based on friendship rather than lust. Even if some of my friends are having a hard time believing that.

“All I’m saying is,” Foster babbles in the Jeep on the ride home, “Con didn’t come back to our room Saturday night. So unless he hopped in bed with you and Demi, Captain, I’ve got a good idea what he was up to.”

“Dude, jealousy is not a good look on you,” I drawl.

“For real, though.” Hunter leans forward from the backseat, where he’s sitting with Matt. “What’s up with you two?”

Hell if I know.

I mean, I like Taylor. A lot. But I’m also pretty sure that if I bring up the matter of renegotiating the terms of our relationship, I’ll scare her away. I don’t think she’s convinced yet that I’m reformed, and to be honest, no one is more surprised by my recent turn in favor of monogamy than I am. For the moment, though, I’m enjoying myself.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” I respond.

Foster snorts. “So then what’s your excuse?”

“Con, you should make Foster pay rent if he’s gonna stay on your dick this much,” Hunter says with a grin.

I’m starting to have sympathy for the hell we gave Hunter over Demi and the ridiculous celibacy pact he made at the beginning of the semester. This shit’s annoying. The guys are like dogs with a bone, and I can only imagine it’ll get worse now that the season’s over and they’ve got nothing else to do than hound my ass.

So when Hunter corners me when we stop to pick up some lunch at the diner, my newfound sympathy has me being a bit more forthcoming with him.

“How serious is this?” he asks while we wait by the car for Matt and Foster to grab our orders from inside.

“I don’t know if it’s serious. Definitely on the way to being not not-serious.” I shrug. “We haven’t even had sex yet,” I confess, because I know Hunter can keep shit to himself. “Buffalo was the first time we fooled around.”

“That’s sort of the best part though, isn’t it? Before sex. When all you’re thinking about is having it for the first time. All the anticipation, you know? Getting each other all messed up over the tension.”

I wouldn’t know from experience—this is the first time sex wasn’t the first step for me. Usually it’s the first and last. “I remember you being kind of crabby, actually.”

“Well, yeah.” He laughs. “There’s that too.”

“Taylor’s a good girl. We get along great.” I hesitate for a moment. “Honestly, I’m trying to see how long I can go before she realizes I’m a dirtbag and she’s too smart for me.”

Hunter shakes his head. “You know, if you didn’t treat yourself like a dirtbag, maybe other people wouldn’t, either.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Whatever, dickhead.”

I hide a smile. Hunter and I have a different relationship than I do with the other guys. Maybe because we’re both working on being better people lately. He’s the only one I talk to on a more serious level, so when he comes hard with the Mr. Rogers routine, it has a way of getting under my skin. His words are still crawling around in there when I get home and return a call to my mom from this morning.

“Where’ve you been, Mister?” she chides. “I didn’t hear from you after the game.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. It was a crazy weekend and I was exhausted by the time we got back. Then I had to play catch-up on assignments for class the past couple days.”

“I’m sorry you guys didn’t get to play in the championship. But next year, right?”

“Yeah. I’m at peace with it.” Guys who get all fucking hung up on shit like that for a whole year get on my nerves. It’s like, dude, get another hobby. “How are things there? How’s Max?”

Her sigh tickles my ear. “He wants to buy a sailboat. Went out to Monterey to look at one.”

“Does he know how to sail?”

“Of course not, but why should that stop him, right?” She laughs again. I guess it’s sort of sweet how she finds his more irrational ideas charming. “I told him, you’re hardly home enough to have dinner, when are you going to learn to sail? But if he’s going to have a midlife crisis, I’d rather it be with a boat than a younger woman.”

“You can’t go to jail for setting your own boat on fire,” I inform her. “I read that somewhere.”

“If it comes to that,” she agrees, joking. “Anyway, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. Miss you. Love you. Stay out of trouble.”

“Who me?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Love you, Mom. Later.”

I am glad she’s happy. I’m glad Max makes her happy and she’s got all the money she’ll ever need to bicker about shit like buying a sailboat. Yet a sour taste forms in the back of my throat when I get off the phone.

Talking about Max brings the run-in with Kai back to the front of my mind. It was like whiplash, seeing him again, and I haven’t felt right since. There’s been a nagging ache in my neck that just won’t go away.

Getting out of California was as much about getting away from Kai as anything else. I used to think I owed him something. For a long time he was my best friend, and when I made it out of the old neighborhood and he didn’t, I felt as if I’d betrayed him somehow. But then I realized, it was never about loyalty or friendship for Kai—people are just tools in his eyes. We’re only as good as what we can do for him.

When I look back on it, I recognize that Kai Turner is a rot that infects everything he touches. And I hope to hell I never have to see him again.

Feeling a foul mood creeping in, I text Taylor looking for a distraction.

ME: Can I come over and go down on you?

I’m joking, but only a little.

TAYLOR: Kappa meeting. See you later?

I don’t know if I should feel rejected that she doesn’t even acknowledge my offer with so much as a thinking emoji. I decide to cut her some slack, seeing as how she’s in the middle of a meeting and didn’t have to text me back in the first place.

ME: Cool. Text me.

I toss the phone on my bed and head to the dresser in search of some gym shorts. Guess I’ll go for a run since I can’t even get my fake girlfriend to let me eat her pussy. Never too early to start working on my cardio.