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Yet…when my dad blitzed through the house to leave for work, not bothering to ask if I could take my siblings to school or when he wouldn’t come home until nine and assumed I’d be here… that grated on me.
I’d have my whole life for hockey, but my mom having a stroke freaked me out. She wasn’t invincible anymore, and it was hard to deal with. She was my favorite person, and guilt stabbed me in the chest when I thought about how long it’d been since I’d gone to see her. It was hard to watch her be a shell of who she was. She’d forget who I was, fall asleep mid-conversation, but all of that was improvement. For the first few months, she couldn’t even talk.
So yeah, I didn’t party. I didn’t do crazy shit. Every minute of every day was school, hockey, or family.It was exhausting, but I didn’t have a choice.
No one would believe me if I told them that. My reputation on the ice overtook any truth. They called me aggressive, fun. I’d chirp at our opponents and make them look bad.I’d push the line and laugh about it. But hockey was my escape. It was how I coped with life. The ice was the only place I felt like me anymore.
I wasn’t like that off the ice at all.
“Tee Tee!”
I spun as Penny jumped onto me after hammering down the stairs. She was loud and fast. “Hey, Pen.”
“Can we listen to Country Roads again and again and again?”
I chuckled. I played Country Roads one time for them, and Penny became obsessed. She now knew every word and shouted MOONSHINE at the top of her lungs. It wouldn’t be surprising if she got a note home from her preschool class. “Em is taking you to school today, but I’ll play it when I pick you up, deal?”
“Deal.”
Penny had handled the shift the best. She was showered with love and probably the favorite of the family. She gave me a high five as I marched out of the house. The drive to campus was only twenty minutes, and I was grateful I’d actually bought a parking pass. I didn’t want to out of pure spite, but it allowed me to park closer to the quad.
Back at my other school in Indiana, I’d leave my truck in the garage most days and walk to campus. The rink was close to my apartment with my guys—ugh. An uncomfortable lump formed in my throat. I missed my team. I missed the guys, my space, my life there. They reached out, but I didn’t have the emotional energy to respond. Texts stacked up until they eventually stopped coming. My bandwidth was at max capacity these days, and taking on anything more would make me snap.
Central State was great, but it wasn’t my home. Also didn’t help that the team hated me. The head coach, Michael Reiner, was a solid dude. I liked his style, but the guys had a chip against me for a solid reason. I stopped at the café near the quad and grabbed a cold brew for Audrey, my mind still on hockey.
Indiana had a better record last year, and there was the altercation with Hawthorne. Speaking of Hawthorne…
Wait.
I smacked my forehead as I made my way in front of the student union. There was no way Audrey Hawthorne, that beautiful, shy, and kinda grumpy woman was related to Quentin Hawthorne. What were the odds?
That explains why she looked at me like she hated me…
Fuck.
I ran a hand through my hair, pulling the ends a bit as I glanced around for her. A part of me enjoyed her attitude. I wasn’t used to it. It might sound ridiculous, but people were generally kind or over-the-top with me. Like the other girl with her, Jessica-something.
At least in Indiana, a hockey player was just short of celebrity. Audrey wanted nothing to do with me, but if it was because of the injury to her brother last year, that was harder to overcome. She was supposed to be the best nursing student to get help from. I exhaled, the initial excitement of seeing her dying down a little with nerves. Professor Aldridge said Audrey would help me get acclimated and that befriending her would be the best for my growth and success, but how could I do that when she hated my guts?
“You made it.”
Damn. I squinted against the August sun and smiled at the figure approaching me. Audrey had a unique, throaty voice that reminded me of podcasters. She spoke without emotion, and it made me want to push her buttons. Just to see her reaction. It was a wild thing to think about after meeting one time before.
She seemed annoyed to be here, and while it was refreshing, I still didn’t like knowing I was the cause of it. “Is Quentin related to you?”
“Ah, put it together, did you?” She flexed her jaw as she adjusted the straps of her bag. Her high-waisted jeans and tight tank top fit her well. I hadn’t realized she was so curvy yesterday. It did me no good to think of her that way, not with needing her help with nursing and trying to form some relationship with the hockey team. Plus, there were daggers shooting out of her eyes at me.
It didn’t matter if I was the best on the ice. If the guys and I didn’t vibe as a team, we were doomed. I clicked my tongue and studied her. She didn’t strike me as similar to Quentin. He had lighter hair, a rounder face. But the nose was the same… probably the eyes. “He your brother, cousin?”
“Brother.” Her eyes flashed. “And you ruined his NHL dreams by having him sit out a season. You had a cheap shot, and you know it. So let me make this clear: we will never be friends. I’m only doing this because I respect Professor A too much to let her down. Do not try to be funny, don’t smile or joke with me. I will answer your questions, and we can beg the Quad gods that we aren’t paired together for clinicals. Am I clear?”
“Did you practice that on the way here?” I grinned, a flicker of irritation dancing along my spine. She didn’t know that her brother was a punk ass on the ice, always playing dirty and going after others. He thought he was hot shit and went after the wrong dude. He deserved my shot at him, and everyone fucking knew it. But she made her opinion known, and it wasn’t worth the effort to show her otherwise. Hell, what time did I have to go into making her believe me? I barely had a free hour to sleep.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Don’t start with me, Sanders.”
“Using my last name is a little flirty,” I fired back, unable to stop myself. There was something about her. The way she held her shoulders, the way she glared at me… there was a familiar air to her I didn’t want to explore. When I saw her on the stairs yesterday, gripping the railing for support, my heart lurched for her. She was going through something, but I’d never know and didn’t care to. However, I could mess with her. That was always on the table.
“I’m not flirting. I would never flirt with you. Now ask your questions.”
