The Fifteenth Minute: A Hockey Romance: Chapter 20

DJ AFTER I DROP OFF LIANNE, I fill Orsen’s gas tank to thank him for the loan of his car. The gray sky over the town of Harkness is a perfect reflection of my mood.

When I get home, my freaking brother is still sitting on the couch in the living room, drinking a cup of coffee out of my mug. I skirt him and head into my room.

But he appears in the doorway a minute later. Shit. The dude spends more time in this house than I do. If I get kicked out in a couple weeks, he can just take over my room. Maybe that’s his plan, anyway.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.” I wait.

It only takes him a moment to go right for the jugular. “Dude,” he says. “I didn’t know you and Lianne…”

“What do care?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Are you going to tattle to Dad?”

“Whoa.” Leo holds up a hand in a sign of surrender. “Jesus, no. I don’t fucking care if you’re hooking up with her. No, that’s not true. I care. Good for , dude. I’m dead serious. If I was in your shoes, I think I’d have, like, chick-induced PTSD.”

“Who says I don’t?” I grunt, not trusting his enthusiasm. Not trusting .

Even though I wish he would leave, Leo sits down on the end of the bed. “You’re awful grumpy for somebody who got laid.”

“You think?” I push my hand over my eyes. “She’s probably running for the hills right now.” Last night was perfect, but I hadn’t done the math. This morning it’s so obvious that I’ve fucked everything up with Lianne. She was the best thing that had happened to me in months. But getting so close to her meant I had to confess my troubles.

So now she’s no longer the only person who won’t look at me like maybe I’m a terrible person.

“Why is she running for the hills?” Leo asked quietly.

“Because I told her at breakfast. You know. The whole ugly tale.”

“Nice timing.”

I give him a little jab with my foot. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. But I didn’t have a choice. I need to explain why I never walk her home. Why she was covering for me in the booth at the women’s game…”

Leo is so quiet that I check his face. “She didn’t take it well?”

“She took it fine over breakfast. But she’s probably in her room right now starting to wonder. Everyone does, right?”

My brother shakes his head. “Not everyone.”

“Don’t say that,” I hiss. “You want to sit here and tell me that you never wondered whether I was guilty?”

“Danny, I never have.”

“

.”

His head snaps back as if I’ve punched him. “Look, jackass. I why you’re angry. But save it for the people who are screwing you over. I never doubted you. Not for a second.”

. How could anyone doubt? I know better than anyone what happened that night. And all I do is sit around wondering what the hell happened. And what I missed.

My brother nudges the calculus book beside him on the bed. “You got a lot of work to do today?”

“Does it matter if I do it? My semester is circling the drain.”

“Then let’s go to the rink. I need to loosen up before practice.”

“Nah.” I grab the book. “Don’t feel like it.”

“Danny, don’t be like this.”

He grabs the book out of my hand. And it’s such an annoying big brother thing to do that my blood pressure shoots up immediately. “Don’t be like You think I’m lazy?”

“I think you’re , Danny. Like—the real thing.” He hands me the book again.

“Naw.”

. This isn’t you. You don’t sit around in your room. You always have a thousand projects, a DJ loop you’re making, party to go to.”

“I have until this meeting. What’s the point of anything if I’m not here? Do you not hear me?”

“I do hear you,” my brother says. “And I feel like telling Dad that you need help.”

“Help with ” My voice cracks. “What’s Dad going to do, other than get on my case?”

“Maybe you need to see someone,” my brother says, his face grave.

Swear to God, the whole world has lost its mind when it comes to me. “Leo, I see someone. He’s called a lawyer, and he costs three hundred an hour. And Dad reminds me of that every chance he gets. Just already. You’ve done your duty as the good kid. Tell Dad you checked up on me and I’m fine.”

“Except you’re not.”

“Would be? I seriously don’t know what you want from me.”

And maybe he doesn’t know either. Because at that, Leo finally gets up and leaves my room.

I shut the door behind him. The next couple of hours are hell as I try and fail to keep my head on homework. Finally I lie down on my bed and pull out my copy of the Scottish play, because it makes me think of Lianne. She and I never got around to reading any of it last night. I’m probably the only guy on earth who’s going to start associating Macbeth with foreplay.

.

Smiling for the first time in an hour, I grab my phone and prepare to text her. But I stop myself before sending any dirty Shakespeare quotes. After what I told her this morning, I don’t know how she’ll take it. Does a dagger joke make me sound like a creeper?

Great. I can officially add her to the list of people who are likely to overanalyze everything I say.

, I text instead. Because it’s true.

The following week, my father calls a lot. He wants to talk about the case. As if talking about it is useful. And I can’t even duck him, because my sister’s visit is coming up, and if she needs to reach me, I have to take calls from home.

Conversations with my dad have been tense all year, but lately they’re downright unbearable.

“We need to talk about this potential lawsuit,” he says. “Jack wants to do some groundwork so he’s ready to file if the hearing doesn’t go your way.”

“Bad idea,” I insist. “Why pay his hourly rate to plan a lawsuit we might not need?”

“Son, we need to be prepared for the worst.”

. So I’m not the only one with a dim opinion of my chances.

“There’s something more. Jack shared a new idea with me.”

The wobble in the pit of my stomach suggests I won’t like it. “Such as?”

“He knows a group of lawyers who are trying to put together a class-action lawsuit that seeks to set a tough precedent for colleges who try to adjudicate their own rape cases. He thinks your case is perfect.”

. The word bounces around inside my gut. Only an asshole would use that word to describe the hell that is my year. “No way.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve heard what he has to say,” my father snapped.

“Dad, I don’t want to be anyone’s test case. Ever.”

“You have to clear your name!” my father bellows.

When he says that, I just hear name. His name. Shit. “I think you have what would happen if we sued the college over this. The whole world is going to just assume that I did it, and that I’m suing to try to find a loophole.”

“But if you do it,” my father fires back, “you should never be afraid to say so.”

All I could hear was the word “if” in that sentence. It strikes me dumb.

“Danny,” he says. “Don’t ever be afraid to tell the truth.”

“I am not. Afraid. Of the truth,” I grind out. “But thanks for the show of support.”

Then, for the first time in my life, I hang up on my father. But it’s either that or lose it completely. He’s still convinced there’s a magic solution that makes the whole thing go away.

There isn’t. Yet I’m the only one who sees that.