My parents were always off on some bender, barely noticing I existed. The worst part was when my mom came out of it. She’d pull me in so tight I could barely breathe, pressing kisses all over my face and hair like she could make up for everything in one shot. She’d promise it was over, that she was done, and for a second, I’d almost believe her, like maybe this version of her was the one that would stick.
She gave me hope. And that was the worst part.
It never stuck. She’d hold out just long enough for me to believe it might be real, then it was gone. Same cycle every time. She’d slip right back into her addictions, and I’d be back to figuring it out on my own, too young to be worrying about food or how to get through the day. My dad wasn’t much different. He made it clear early on I wasn’t somethinghe cared about. We coexisted, and if he wasn’t yelling, I called it a good day.
Guys talk about making the NHL for the house, the cars, all of it. I just want something steady. A place that’s mine. Food in the pantry. Enough to take care of myself without relying on anyone. Maybe even money in the bank.
I don’t know how long I’ve been walking when I realize I’m long past the houses and on a legit dirt trail, but I go down a hill and see a bunch of guys—my teammates—lighting a fire. I keep quiet, making my way to them when a familiar voice calls out, “Maxwell! You made it. Hell of a job!” Leo grins, lifting a red cup in my direction.
Part of me thaws because Leo is the closest thing I have to a friend on the team, and I'll fucking take it.
Chapter 10
CORA
Tonightisoneofmy favorite traditions—a perfect way to end the summer. Everyone letting loose and having fun before we’re back to classes, practices, traveling—all the chaos of the season. Hard to believe this is my last one.
It’s also the first where I didn’t show up late with Freddy. The hockey team extends the invite to other athletes on campus, but it’s always a bit later than when the hockey guys meet up after the scavenger hunt—they have to award the winners and the losers.
Part of me feels like I don’t belong when I come with the team, but I know they’d tell me otherwise. And then there’s the run-in we had with Freddy while we were looking for clues. I know his blood was boiling the second Lane bumped his shoulder with mine.
It was a look I rarely saw when we were together. I thought it was because we were so far past the idea of jealousy, soulmates, or some smoke screen. Obviously not. What I find most annoying is how I was one of those women who just blindly thought this was it. I despise how I didn’t see it sooner.
Leo wraps me in a bear hug and cuts through the noise. “You and Maxwell came in second! Good team.”
It’s hard not to smile at him. Leo's a junior and the definition of golden retriever energy—unless he’s trying to murder you on the ice.
“Glad you guys were partners. These guys have been tough to crack for him,” he continues.
“He’s a solid addition to the team. I hope they give him a fair shot,” I say.
“Once the season starts, it should be good. You know how it is. Everyone’s gotta smooth out the chip on their shoulder.”
Barely, but it’s clear GLU hockey takes the team mentality seriously. Maybe that’s how they were able to break through the mediocre team results and start winning when it counted. My dad’s been the coach for eight years and it wasn’t until his fourth season he started seeing results.
Many of my nights were spent sitting in a cold hockey rink, watching the Great Lakes U hockey team get obliterated by anyone and everyone. That is certainly not the case now. Tickets are prized possessions and it’s one of the pulls for students picking between colleges.
Looking over, I see Lane standing with a few teammates and I catch his eyes on me. He slowly drinks out of the red plastic cup, probably filled with beer from the keg, his eyes peeking over the rim.
I can practically feel his attention. Ugh, I hate that I love it. Why didn’t I just take the chance and tell him who I was when we met? Maybe that would’ve made things different. Fuck, I want them to be different. But even if I had told the truth, I’d still be the coach’s daughter and off-limits.
His eyes break from me to Troy as the captain tries to get everyone’s attention.
“Better not bitter. Welcome to the slogan for this season!” Everyone claps, cheering for the reveal. “Last season, we were so close to winning it all. Now, sometimes it’s easy to be bitter. Find something to blame, something out of our control. This season... it’s all about being better.” Troy lifts his glass and everyone follows suit.
Damn. He’s good at this. I’ve always liked Troy; he treats me like a real person and not some weird transplant just because I'm the coach’s kid. The scavenger hunt is a perfect example. He’s the new captain this year and, like the previous, he included me since I'll spend almost the same amount of time with the team as someone on the roster would. Troy's a good one.
He announces the winners and then it’s time for the losers. The tradition is they have to sing karaoke throughout the party, every thirtyminutes, and attendees get to pick songs. When Lane hears that, he walks over to me, his brows pressed into his forehead.
Everyone claps as the two losers, both freshman, start hyping themselves up on the stage they will frequent tonight.
“I owe you,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink while his eyes lock onto the stage. “That is my nightmare.”
The compliment catches me off guard.
“You hanging out with Frankie tonight?” he asks, keeping his voice even as he brings the red cup to his lips.
“Freddy.” I correct him. “And no. I don’t even think he’ll show tonight.” I look around and see it’s still just the hockey core.
