“Have you seen Bradley around?” she asks, and my entire body stills, the chicken tasting like rubber as I finish chewing it. “He was such a nice boy. I don’t know why you won’t give him another chance,” Mom continues before I’m able to swallow the food in my mouth.
Yeah, Mom. He was so nice, he liked to hurt me, and made me believe it was my fault.
“We’re not getting back together,” I say, because what’s the point of saying anything else? I could show them the whole hidden folder on my phone of the marks and bruises that Bradley left behind, but I’m not certain they’d believe he gave them to me.
Dad takes a sip of his water, making eye contact with me, but he doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t said anything to me since our run-in at the rink after Thanksgiving, but I’m wondering if this dinner is an elaborate scheme to ask me about what happened with Jack last week. That would require Dad talking to me, though, and since we’re clearly not doing that, I say nothing either.
“Are you seeing anyone else?” she asks, and Dad huffs.
I set my fork down, and now is not the right time to tell them I bought a ticket to visit Jack the day after Christmas because I’m incapable of telling him no. Lucky for me, I’m frugal with my savings account, but I got a good deal on an early flight, and now all I can do is hope the weather cooperates.
“Kind of,” I say, smoothing the napkin in my lap.
“I thought we agreed you were done seeing Jack outside of tutoring,” Dad says, and Mom’s eyebrows knit, her gaze bouncing between us.
“Who is Jack?”
Only the best person I’ve ever met.
“My captain,” he says, and her eyes widen.
“We didn’t agree. You dictated, and I decided to let Jack make the choice for himself. He thinks he can have hockey and be my friend,” I say, and Dad scoffs, setting his utensils down.
“You’re a prime example of why I want you to stay away from him. You had everything going for you, and you still quit for a boy who broke up with you four months later,” he says, but that’s not what happened.
“Keith,” Mom says, and I’m surprised, because normally she’s the first person on his side. She’s not a bad mom, she’s just very averse to conflict, but maybe she’s finally getting there’s more to this than the assumptions that’ve been thrown in my face for the last year. “Alondra, maybe you should listen to your father,” she says, proving me wrong in the same breath.
“Are you serious?” I ask, my pitch climbing in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but being friends with Jack doesn’t mean he’s going to quit hockey. Why can’t you just stay out of it?”
Mom sighs, taking a breath. “And why do you feel the need to fight your father on everything he asks of you?”
“Maybe I should bite my tongue more, but if you ever considered there might be more to the story than whatever it is you think you know, I wouldn’t have to. I’ve been helping Jack with all of his classes this semester to make sure he keeps his eligibility to play hockey, and I haven’t missed a single game he’s asked me to go to. I love skating the same way Jack loves hockey, and I’m sorry you don’t believe me,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat, and pushing my chair back from the table as my parents stare at me in surprise. “Thank you for dinner, but I have to go help your captain with his final, Dad.”
I grab my things by the front door, slipping into my boots to make my great escape before another lecture can start. I’m calling Jack by the time I get to my car.
“Hey, darlin’,” Jack greets, and as much as it drove me nuts in the beginning when he called me that, I’ve come to cherish it.“You on your way over?” he asks, already understanding my next move.
“Is it okay if I am?” I ask, starting my car, blasting the heat since my teeth are already chattering from the cold. I definitely think I would’ve lasted longer through dinner if I weren’t on my period, but unfortunately, my hormones are out of wack.
“You never have to ask,” he says, and I already feel better after that shitshow of a dinner. I hear the guys whooping in the background, and Jack groans. “Sorry, we’re playing Irish Poker.”
I chuckle, shaking my head because I can only imagine the chaos. “Is it Dylan’s turn?”
“Yep, Coop is the dealer,” Jack says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Is Nate helping him?” I ask, and tiny snowflakes start to hit my windshield.
“If you mean by helping him, he’s telling him all the wrong answers, yes,” he says, laughing again. “Oh, I meant to tell you I picked up some of those things from the store for you.”
Could he be any less specific about what those things are? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy,” I say, trying to figure out if there was something I asked him for, but I don’t think there is?
“I didn’t know what kind you like, and there were a lot of options, so I got a few different types. If I got it wrong, then I can just take them back, or donate them, or something,” he rambles, but I’m still not following.
“What did you buy?”
“Well, I know you’re on your period, and since it’s supposed to happen every month, I didn’t want you to feel like you have to worry about having stuff here, so I bought some tampons and pads to keep in the bathrooms,” Jack says, and I blink, sputtering as I try to think of how to respond to that.
It’s moments like this I have to remind myself he’s not actually my boyfriend, because I find myself falling for Jack a little more every day, finding a new part of him to love.
