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My mom started treatment, and it’s just as harsh as you would expect, though she tries to hide her pain from me. Dad isn’t handling things well, and he takes it out on me a lot. I’ve hardly ventured home since moving to college, but now, I avoid it even more. I can’t bear to watch my mom going through that. And I still haven’t told any of my friends about it. It feels like everything is falling apart.
Mike’s sports car rumbles to a stop in front of the steps. I rise and walk over to the passenger side, opening the door, and drop into the seat.
“Well, hello sunshine,” he quips as the car idles. “You look like complete shit.”
I snort, too drained to spar with him. “Thanks.”
“Did you meet with Coach this morning?”
“No,” I deadpan. “I’ve been up here, skating sprints all morning.”
Mike rolls his eyes and shifts the car into drive. “Don’t be an asshole. I didn’t have to pick you up.”
“I know,” I sigh, sliding down in the seat to rest my head on the back of it. “I’m just tired. I woke up in some girl’s bed this morning, and I forgot about the meeting. I was a few minutes late.”
Mike whistles low, knowing how our coaching staff prioritizes punctuality.
“Then, Coach proceeds to tell me that Anaheim was asking about me. Their center got hurt, and they’re looking for a replacement.”
Mike glances over at me, pausing before he turns onto the street leading away from the arena. “That’s awesome. And?”
“Coach didn’t exactly give me a glowing review.”
The engine revs as Mike accelerates. He’s quiet for a few beats. “Can you blame him? The last game wasn’t your best.”
I narrow my eyes at my friend. “What about all the other games we played this season? And last time I looked, hockey is a team sport. I’m not the only one who had a less than stellar performance on the ice that night.”
“No one’s saying the loss was your fault. But you and Chase getting into it right before that game didn’t help matters.”
“Why does all the blame seem to be landing on my shoulders?” I practically pout. “Chase was just as much to blame as me.”
“Maybe,” Mike says. “But either way, we lost. No Frozen Four. No championship.” He sighs, flipping the turn signal on as he reaches our street. He pulls the vehicle into the driveway next to mine and shifts into park, but doesn’t kill the engine. He studies me for a few beats. “What’s with you, Sam?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I answer defensively, not meeting his gaze as he scrutinizes me.
“I mean … is something going on? You’ve had a giant chip on your shoulder lately. It got worse during that whole mess with Oakley, but it’d started even before that.”
“I don’t have a chip on my shoulder,” I argue. And after Coach’s lecture, I’m not in the mood to hear it from my friend too.
“Yeah, no chip at all.” The mirth is easy to spot in Mike’s tone.
“Look, I’m hungover, tired, and starving,” I say suddenly, wanting to be done with this conversation. I don’t have the energy to fight. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
“I’m not your Uber driver, asshole,” Mike says, the weight of the conversation instantly lighter. He shifts the car into reverse despite his grumbling and looks behind him as he backs the car into the street again. “You’re paying.”
I sink back down into my seat and watch the houses pass by, hoping the grease I’m about to consume will soak up some of the alcohol from last night and take my mind off everything that’s happened since. Anything has got to be better than the way this day started.
CHAPTER FIVE
EMERSON
“Your sky …” Suki says from behind me. She sounds breathless, like she’s in awe, which is unlike her normally stoic demeanor. Her head is shaking slowly as she studies the canvas in front of me. “It’s breathtaking.”
I frown as I scrutinize my work. “You’re biased.”
“I might be your best friend,” she argues, “but I’d still tell you if your work was crap.”
A giggle escapes like a sigh. Suki is known for her complete honesty, even if it comes across as brutal at times.
