“Ha, no.” I leaned back onto my pillow, my lips curving into a smile. “I can’t think of anyone who cares less that I play hockey. It’s weird. She understands the sport but hasn’t asked me about it once.”
“I bet it’s nice having a friend on your side.”
His words hit me in the gut. She was my friend. She was on my side. There was no way I should cross that line and ruin it. I hadn’t had afriendwho wasn’t on the team since high school, and even then, the betrayal of my former best friend siding with my mom still stung two years later. “It is nice, Dad. You’ll have to meet her when you stop by soon.”
“Can’t wait. Shit, I need to go. My neighbor said he’d pay me a hundred bucks to take care of their yard while they were on a trip. Gotta get started before the humidity is too much.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“You too, son, and hey, ifshecalls, you do what you need to. Don’t hold back because you feel like your loyalty’s to me, okay?”
God. It was like he twisted a knife into me. “Alright.”
He hung up, leaving me feeling flat. Moments like these were exactly why I craved the ice, the gym, the workouts. I could channel all my emotions into hockey, making me feel better about doing what I could to help my dad. Without those releases, I felt off-balanced. Unsettled.
Two questions circled in my mind, keeping me glued to my bed, confused as hell. What would I do if my mom tried calling me?
And even though I knew all the reasons why I shouldn’t, what would happen if Ryann and I did cross that line?
9
Ryann
Franklin Smith.
He was the reason for the first and only real fight Michael and I had. Tricking me into being with him just to spite Michael was the ultimate betrayal. My brother had warned me too. Michael lost it and punched him before a playoff game. The coach benched my brother, and he didn’t talk to me for weeks.
Franklin played me for a fool, and I let him come between my brother and me. Never again. I couldn’t afford that no matter what because he was all I had left. Not speaking to Michael every other day was impossible to imagine.
So, my attraction to Jonah was complicated. I told Michael nothing would happen, that this wasn’t high school, and I wouldn’t mess with his team. It wasn’t a lie when I said it…but I couldn’t stop thinking about Jonah’s lips.
Like, kissing him would probably be bad, right?
Or do more than kiss? His hot stare felt more than curious. It was like a caress, and I really wanted to know if Jonah focused on everything like he did with hockey.
Being stuck together in the apartment without an escape seemed to make my body sync with his. His heavy footsteps left his room, and his door creaked. When he stopped, my breath caught in my throat. I slid my attention away from my computer and to his face, worry lines encased on his forehead in a deep scowl.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
The muscles along his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared as he went to the fridge and pulled out milk, spinach, and strawberries. He didn’t answer as he got the blender out and added protein powder and ice to the mixture. Jonah consumed protein shakes the way I went through chocolate when I had PMS. Even though his back was covered with a Moo U shirt, his muscles were still visible and tighter than a cord.
Did I do this?
I chewed on the side of my lip and waited for him to turn around. He had to at some point, unless he took the awkwardness up to another level and walked backward to his room. It took a couple minutes, but he made the shake, poured it into a glass, and took a long sip before he leaned against the counter and faced me. His eyes seemed sad or worried, and it jarred me.
I wasn’t used to a sad and worried Jonah. Just focused or confused. “You okay? Did I…say something I shouldn’t have? I’m sorry if I did.” I focused on the tabletop, not his face, and he moved to sit in the chair across from me.
“My dad called.”
I glanced back up at him and tried to decipher what could’ve set him off. “Is he okay?”
He sighed, looking lost and nothing like the intimidating guy the campus knew him as. “My mom wants to get back in my life.”
“Oh,” I said, sucking in a breath. Everything hit me. His worry, the sadness, and the clenched muscles. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” He put his face in his hands, releasing a long, frustrated groan, and remained as still as a statue. “My dad insisted it was up to me and that it wouldn’t change our relationship at all, but how can Italkto her? I go a few days without thinking about what she did to us, but that’s it. Ihateher, Ryann. She left without showing an ounce of sympathy or regret. She bled my dad dry in the divorce, so why is she trying to come back?”
I placed my palms on the table, taking a few seconds to try and figure out what to say. This was so messed up. Was it worse than having my parents taken from us in a blink of an eye? I wasn’t sure. My parents didn’t choose to leave us. They loved us, and there was never any doubt. But this? My eyes stung at watching the absolute fear on his face. “Do you want to talk to her?”
