We walk down the boardwalk, the butter-yellow Victoria building where I live looms to the right. She looks up at it. “You lucked out with this place. No wonder you high-tailed it back here as soon as Christmas was over.”
“Yeah.” We reach the sidewalk, and I glance up at my home. The house is divided into three large apartments. Mine is the top floor, with a great deck overlooking the ocean and, the best part, a hot tub. I don’t tell Shelby the real reasons I bailed early on Christmas, leaving before the big dinner on Christmas afternoon. It was because I wanted to get back here and talk to Landon, see if we could get over our little spat. But he went to U of Maine with his parents because his brother was playing in a Christmas Day tournament. “I just had it for a year. But I am hoping the owner can be persuaded to sell it to me.”
“You’re growing up, lil brother. Nesting instead of partying. It’s cute.”
“I was like this in L.A. too,” I argue.
“Next will come someone to nest with.”
“You sound like Grandma Nance.”
Shelby clutches her chest through her enormous winter coat. “I think that’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I smile and start up the stairs. The only downside to this awesome two-bedroom pad is that the only way to it is an outdoor staircase that climbs three levels. It’s a bitch after a grueling practice, road trip, or rough game. But at least the landlord has a company clean the stairs when it snows. I wouldn’t have taken the place if shoveling was part of the deal.
“You’re… single too?”
“Yes.” She stops to catch her breath. “Didn’t you see Grandma Nance’s depressed face when she asked me if I’d met any nice doctors yet at that little job of mine?”
“I missed that. I must have been in the kitchen getting grilled about whether I’ve put enough money away to avoid working for my dad when my hockey thing ends,” I reply, remembering how Grandpa Phil gave me that money speech again. It’s a Christmas ritual like eggnog or ice skating in the backyard.
“Dating isn’t my priority right now.”
“What is?” I ask as I pass her on the stairs, and she starts walking behind me.
“I’m thinking of going back to school. To become a doctor.”
“Really? Shel, that is awesome!”
“In Mexico.”
I stop walking and my head swivels to find her eyes, expecting to see them bright with the lightness of her joke. Because it’s got to be a joke, right? But her eyes are wide, and furtive, and maybe even a little scared. She isn’t joking. “For real?”
“They have an American University of Medicine there. Believe it or not, it’s cheaper than most schools on US soil, and I applied and was accepted to start in their spring semester.” The words fly out of her mouth, which must be moving a million miles an hour, but I can’t see it because of the scarf. “I have ten days left to accept or decline the offer.”
“Oh my God, Shelby Garrison, you’re going to be a fucking doctor!” We’ve reached the landing now, so I reach down and pick her up off her feet in a hug.
It’s unusual for us to show physical affection, so to balance it out, I give her a small shove when I put her back on her feet. “Mom is going to lose her shit and brag about you all over Silver Bay.”
“I haven’t told them yet,” she admits as I unlock my front door and hold it open for her to step into my front hall.
I shrug out of my jacket, and she plucks off her knitted hat and starts unraveling the scarf. Slowly but surely, her face is revealed. “They’ll be losing you but gaining me, since I’m basically local again. And besides, Mom and Dad just want us to be happy and achieve our goals. If yours is school in Mexico, then they’ll back it.”
“I know. I guess,” she says in a very unconvincing way. She lays her winter gear on the small bench by my front door as I hang my coat in the closet and pull out a hanger for hers.
Shelby’s hair is shorter than I’ve ever seen it. The loose ginger curls fall just past her chin. That’s new. She’s wearing makeup, which is also new. She’s usually a fresh, scrubbed face type of girl because of her long shifts at work.
“You have a date later or something?” I lift an eyebrow as she hands me her coat, and I notice she’s in a soft-looking, curve-hugging sweater that I’d have given her shit for wearing in high school because my teammates and friends would eye fuck her.
“I’m going to your game, idiot, remember?”
“You don’t dress like this, or put in that kind of effort,” I wave a hand around in front of her face, “for a hockey game.”
She frowns and then looks down at her sweater in a shade of green that makes her skin glow and her eyes pop… or maybe that’s the makeup. I need to buy a green dress shirt and see if it does the same for me since we have the same coloring. “Do I look okay?”
“No. You look like you’re gonna attract my single teammates.”
She beams, clearly thinking it’s a compliment. “Oh well.”
