When I glance back to smile at her, Tripp has his arm around the back of her chair, and my dad moves a bit closer to my mom. He picks something off her plate that she didn’t eat and plops it into his mouth, just like he always does, as us five kids drop our plates off and head toward the game room.
“Hey, Avy,” Saint says to Aviana. “How’s hockey been going? My sister said that you’re, like, the team’s star player, even though you’re only a sophomore.”
Aviana’s cheeks grow insanely red, and I give her a reassuring smile as I walk toward the air hockey table. I think it’s adorable that my brother makes her so nervous, but he shouldn’t because she’s a catch.
“Um, yeah, it’s been going well.” She nods quickly, tucking her hands into her back pockets.
“That’s cool. We should go play hockey in the driveway,” he says strictly to her. “Do you still have a net and gear and stuff?”
She nods eagerly, and within seconds, they take off.
“I’ll take on the loser,” Cane says, plopping down onto one of the huge chaise lounges. “Cough, cough … Cash.”
Cash flashes his brother the middle finger and takes his usual side of the table. “Not gonna lie; I’m not sure how I feel about your little brother dawging on Avy.” He cringes. “She’s too young for that.”
“She’s sixteen,” I say, lifting my brows. “What were you two doing at that age?” I pause, looking between both of them. “That’s what I thought.”
Seconds into us starting our game, smashing the puck back and forth with zero mercy, Cash—who usually takes it seriously—decides it’s a good time for a heart-to-heart.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Hunt anyway?” he says, stopping the puck just before it goes into the slot and sailing it back my way. “Are you two, like, an item … or …”
“No,” I say quickly, holding the puck and looking at him with wide eyes. “Also, can you not? Dad is already freaked out about the entire thing, and I don’t want to talk him off a ledge anytime soon. He’s been doing so well, not bringing it up tonight.”
“I like Hunt,” Cane calls from his chair, and I cringe, hoping my dad isn’t listening by the door. “He’s a bit rough around the edges. He definitely has that wholebad boy who will fuck you up if you look at him wrongthing going on. But he seems like a decent dude.”
“Just don’t get on his bad side,” Cash utters and shrugs when I narrow my eyes. “What? You know what I mean. He’s fucking scary.”
I don’t tell Cash that his dark side is something that both pushes me away and draws me in. I don’t voice it because I don’t understand it.
And I also don’t tell him that it’s driving me crazy that Hendrix has been ghosting me all day. I want to play it off likethere’s nothing going on because, right now, that’s exactly what it seems like.
“Just play the game, would you?” I finally nail the puck, sending it right into his goal before jumping up and down. “Take that, asshole!”
Taking the puck from the slot, he holds it in his hand and gives me a serious look.
“I like Hendrix, and I like you. So, I’m not here to tell you not to give him a chance.” He pauses, sighing. “But I will say this … just be careful, okay?”
It’s getting old. Every single person telling me that. Then again, I didn’t listen, had sex with the dude, and now he can’t even take five seconds to answer a message. So, how annoyed can I really be?
Finally, I nod. “Fine,” I huff out. “Now, let’s play. The quicker I beat you, the quicker I can beat your brother.”
And even though, physically, I’m here, mentally, I’m wondering if Hendrix used me for sex, and now, whatever it is we had … is over.
It would probably be for the best, but, God, I hope that isn’t true.
TWENTY-ONE
HENDRIX
I mindlessly pack my shit,just hoping I can get the hell out of the arena before the women’s hockey team practice ends and I have to face Isla. After ignoring her all yesterday afternoon and today, I’m not ready to see her. Margo is right. I’ll never be good enough to sit at a table with her family, so why drag this out and want her more and more every time we’re together?
No, it’s best to just end it now and let her find someone who’s going to be good for her. Someone who isn’t me.
“Fellas, get your shit and be on the bus in ten minutes!” Coach Talmage calls in, letting his eyes sweep the room. “No fucking off either.”
“Yes, Coach,” we chorus while we finish grabbing our things before he takes off.
Coach Talmage never yells unless he needs to, and even though he comes off as a grumpy hard-ass, he’s a real good coach. Though he doesn’t have to say much to prove his point and is typically quieter than Coach Huff is.
