Page 33 of Best Man on Campus

“She’s just a friend, Mom,” I lie my ass off. In no one’s definition of friend does one spend the kind of night together that we did. And yet, I don’t know how to define our relationship, so I don’t explain further.

“Well whatever she is, she’s gorgeous and a lovely person.” Mom smiles and winks.

“I…”

Have no idea what to say to that. I want to ask her to describe the woman parading around as Jazzy because it doesn’t seem likely that she would come off as lovely. Maybe she has a best behavior mode I wouldn’t know about. That none of the PSU students know about. Maybe it’s something she reserves for adults who are less threatening. Who aren’t on TikTok. Thank fuck as far as Mom knows,TikTok is what a clock does.

“I gotta run, Mom. I’m putting in some shadowing time with Dr. Adenaki.”

“Aren’t you going to ask how Dad is?”

“How is he?” He’s not here. That’s always the unspoken comment between us.

“He’s busy, but good.”

I laugh because she’s joking. Busy is a stand-in word for completely absent as a husband and father and totally obsessed with his career—his calling. She’s been a saint to put up with the neglect the way she has all these years. “I’ll talk to you Sunday, Mom.” We talk every Sunday. I bend down and give her a kiss on the cheek then get inside the dressing room before the media are finished with Coach and Stone. I’d rather Stone keep the limelight tonight and soak it up for all it’s worth. He deserves it. Whatever his faults are, he’s worked his ass off to be here, to be successful and maybe get to the NHL. I shouldn’t feel a pang of regret, but I do. I’m making the right choice, aren’t I? I shower and change in record time and find Dr. Walt in the training room with Voz on the table.

“Sorry I’m running late,” I say as I watch Doc finger Voz’s ankle. It’s badly bruised and swollen.

“No prob,” Doc Walt says. “I figured you had better things to do.” He says to Voz, “Could be broken. You’ll need to go for X-rays tonight. We need to know if it’s fractured or just a bad ankle bruise.”

I text Jazzy to let her know I’m running late.

“Fuck, Doc. I have plans to go out. Just give me some crutches and I promise I’ll stay off it. I’ll be fine.”

“You want to play in the next playoff game or not? If there’s a fracture—even a hairline, you could make it worse if you don’t get it properly booted.”

Jazzy doesn’t answer. Of course not. I text back that her I’ll catch up with her at Wildbeast Pizza. That’s where the team is going.

“I’ll take him for the X-rays,” I volunteer though it’s the last thing I want to do.

“I thought you were meeting Jazzy after the game?” Voz says.

“Never mind that,” Doc says, “Don’t you have the press to answer to?”

I shrug in response to both of them. “It’s Stone’s night to talk to the press.”

“What about Jazzy?” Voz eyes me suspiciously.

“I’ll see her later. We need to get you X-rayed now. Next game is coming right up.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Voz says, shaking his head. I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I don’t care as he gets his crutches and I walk with him out to my car.

Voz gets his X-rays and some pain meds. He’s lucky there’s no fracture. It’s late by the time I get to Wildbeast Pizza. Kace calls me to hurry me along, letting me know Jazzy’s there and singing, a fresh bandage on her hand.

“Good. I’ll be there in ten.”

“The bandage has a large letter B on it,” he says. “Everyone knows it’s you.”

Shit. “It’s okay. We’ll talk.”

Stone yells into the phone from nearby, “What’s there to talk about? Either you’re in or you’re not because she’s seriously down for you—in more ways than one.”

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business,” I shout back, “but you’ll know when I know.”

Chapter 8

Jazzy