And she’s not wrong.
I’ve thought about it.
More than once.
The only problem is that hehasn’t.
And he never will.
four
Fletcher
Tate and I can pick up booze for the Halloween party after I pick her up.” I jump onto the counter as Zeke searches the fridge for leftovers we can put out for the party.
“Get a lot,” he mumbles, pulling out a container, popping the lid, and sniffing it. “Do you know when we made this? It’s chili dip… I think.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I chuckle. “Does it smell bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone here is probably gonna be hammered, Zeke.” Jere drops his hockey bag on the floor and brushes by Zeke to grab his water from the fridge. “They won’t care what they’re eating.”
“And we’re ordering pizzas again anyway. I think Brinley said something about Declan and Jax picking up a bunch of snacks, so I don’t think you need to scour the fridge for leftovers.”
“Yeah, but I kind of want to get rid of some of this.” Zeke grabs another container and sniffs the contents. His nose scrunches up, and then he tosses the whole container into the trash.
“I take it that one was expired?” I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows.
“That was more than expired. I’m surprised it didn’t start growing other shit. I couldn’t even tell you what that was.”
“I’m gonna go hit the ice for a couple of hours. Anyone want to join me?” Jeremy slings his bag back over his shoulder.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I hope off the counter. “It’s barely been two weeks since—”
“I’m fine, Fletch. I feel good. The pain medication is doing its job. I can barely feel it.”
“You just stopped using the cane two days ago,” Zeke argues. “What would your physical therapist say about you getting back on the ice?”
“She was actually the one who told me to do it,” he replies.
I’m usually pretty good at reading Jeremy, but I can’t tell if he’s lying or not. Jere is typically a pretty honest guy, but I also know he’s hating this. He hates the fact that we are winning games without him. He hates the fact that Coach still isn’t sure when he’s gonna let Jere back. He hates having to go to physical therapy, take pain meds, and sit on the bench while we all do the one thing he’s not allowed to right now.
“Just take it easy, okay?” I begin. “I want you back on the ice more than anyone, but I want you back permanently. I don’t want you to push yourself and then…”
We all think about it. We all think about what would happen if Jeremy were hit wrong during a game. We almost lived it a couple of weeks ago. Ever since his first back surgery, he’s been doing great. He has mild pain here and there, typically when he takes one too many body checks against the glass, but he’s back on his feet in no time.
Until O’Connell hit him. I think that when it happened, it hit all of us that one wrong move and Jere could be out of the game for good.
Or worse.
“I’ll be fine.” Jere puts a hand on my shoulder. “Promise. I thought you’d like me being out, you know, getting to be on first line with the guys.”
“I’d rather be second if it meant you being back on that ice,” I respond. “I’m not O’Connell. I don’t pray for your downfall.”
“You could come skate with me for a couple of hours then.” He smiles. “Then you’ll know if I’m pushing myself too hard.”
“I would, but I have to head to Tate’s, and then we need to go get some booze for the party. And I have a feeling she won’t even be close to ready by the time I get there.” Jere nods, his hand falling from my shoulder.
