“Think Coach is gonna go soft on him now?” the other guy asks.
“Probably. You know how it is. Date the coach’s kid, suddenly you’re getting extra ice time.”
They’re joking. Just talking trash the way hockey players do. And they’re his friends so surely he knows they’re kidding.
But Jude’s entire body has gone rigid.
“Or maybe Coach’ll be harder on him,” Dax continues. “You know, prove there’s no favoritism. Either way, it’s gonna be weird.”
“Yeah. Team dynamics are gonna be all messed up.”
They laugh and get in their car, completely unaware that Jude heard every word.
I watch him stand there, shoulders tense, jaw working.
Then he gets in his truck.
The engine starts.
I step forward, waving, trying to catch his attention.
He sees me. I know he does.
But he backs out anyway. Drives away without stopping.
I stand in the parking lot, snow starting to fall again, watching his taillights disappear.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number.
It’s just an auction date. Don’t worry about it. - Jude
Just an auction date.
Like it doesn’t mean anything.
Like we don’t mean anything.
The community center door opens behind me. Music and laughter spill out. The party’s still going.
But all I can think about is the look on his face when Dad made that joke. When those guys talked about team dynamics.
He’s running again.
Not from Briarwood this time.
From me.
I pull my coat tighter and head to my car. The snow is falling harder now. Covering everything. Making the world quiet and white and impossibly lonely.
I bought a date with him at an auction tonight.
But I’m pretty sure I just lost him anyway.
seven
. . .
I can handle rejection.
