He rests a gloved hand on my shoulder. “Who would have thought you’d get married before me?”
“Everyone,” I tell him honestly. Up until he met Ruby, he was closed off and uninterested in dating. I might not have a good track record with serious relationships, but at least I’ve dated.
“Let’s grab a beer after the game. I missed the bachelor party.” He grins even wider. Fucker.
“Another night.”
“The wife is already controlling your schedule.”
I know he’s joking but I still glare at him.
“Like you’re one to talk. Where’s Ruby anyway?”
“She’s in New York for a book signing.”
“Now I know why you want to hang out. You’re lonely without her.”
“So fucking lonely,” he admits.
“Fine. One drink. And you’re buying.”
The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of warmups.
“You’re on,” Nick says and then skates off to the bench.
As I follow him, I glance back up at the stands. It shouldn’t be so disappointing that she isn’t here. I’ve played my whole career without anyone cheering me on.
But I can’t help but feel like it’s just one more person telling me I’m not important or good enough to be in their life in any real, meaningful way.
17
HANNAH
“How am I going to explain this to her?” I ask Kinsley and Skylar Sunday afternoon. The movie ended two hours ago but I’m holding them captive at the coffee shop next to the theater while I simultaneously drink too much caffeine, spiral about the Travis situation, and now avoid Wren’s calls and texts.
She’s texted twice in the past five minutes wanting to know what time I’m calling today.
I turn my phone face down on the table so I can’t see the texts popping up. I’m mostly confident I can keep my cool over text, but there’s zero chance that she won’t see through me and know I’m being weird if she sees my face.
“Which part in particular are you worried about?” Kinsley asks, voice so sweet it borders on smug. “The getting drunk and married in Vegas bit or deciding to stay married to avoid a PR nightmare?”
Oh god. This is going to be worse than I thought. How can I say those words, any of them, to Wren? I shake my empty iced coffee. “I think I need another.”
Caffeine confidence. That’s a thing, right?
Kinsley takes the cup from me. “One more and you’re going to vibrate out of here.”
“Wren isn’t naïve about drinking and making bad decisions. She’ll understand.”
If it were anyone else, I’d agree. But I’ve been more like a mother to Wren than a sister or friend. In high school while my friends were sneaking out to meet up with their boyfriends or go to parties, I was helping with homework and making sure Wren brushed her teeth. There were some really dark years where she decided dental hygiene was optional. I shudder at the memory. Not that she’d ever admit to it now. And not that I had a boyfriend or was invited to that many parties, but that’s another story all together.
The point is, I didn’t rebel or get in trouble because I always had to set the example. It’s hard to be huffy about your kid sister staying out late when you’re breaking curfew too. Or convince her that binge-drinking, vaping, sexting, and cutting bangs are a bad idea when you’re doing them. She still hasn’t figured out that instead of having the flu over Thanksgiving five years ago like I claimed, I was really so hungover I couldn’t get out of bed. Mistakes were made. I still can’t smell pumpkin pie without feeling nauseous.
My phone vibrates on the table.
“Answer it,” Kinsley demands. “The sooner you tell her, the sooner you’ll stop torturing yourself.”
Skylar nods and smiles encouragingly.
