Page 26 of Breakaway Hearts

I should tell him about Owen, but this is also about us. I had my doubts before anyone asked for my help. I literally sat through an hour of therapy because I don’t like standing in Jason’s way.

Time to put my money where my mouth is.

“If this is their attempt at showing you they’re worth your while, why don’t we go see? Worse comes to worst; we can spend the day making sure no one gets lured into any dark corners or locked bedrooms with multiple players.”

“I always thought you were joking when you suggested we do that.”

“I was, though I still think some kind of intimacy verification at house parties would be a good thing.” Like if every room only opened if both parties were sober and gave consent. And no one else could come in. “But if they want to try to change your mind, why not see what they have to say? And rescue some coeds while we’re at it.”

“You’re expecting them to fail.”

“Perhaps. But now that it’s out there, if I hear anything happened to anyone who went, I’ll feel responsible.”

“You’re coming with me now?”

“You said it’s a fundraiser.” He eyes me. “And I know you’re a fierce, protective teddy bear, but you also look like you’re on a hockey team.” Which isn’t everyone else’s fear, but it is mine.

“Or basketball,” he teases, getting me to laugh. As a six-foot-three black dude, it’s people’s go-to assumption. Hoops had been his life when I first met him, up until I introduced him to my dad, and Jason fell in love with the ice.

“He derailed your entire future, didn’t he?”

“Nah, I didn’t choose the game, the game chose me.”

I smile for him, but he basically just admitted that if Owen puts on a good enough show, I’ll need to find a way to be okay with Jay playing hockey again. Which sounds bad, because he can obviously do what he wants and it shouldn’t affect me, but hockey isn’t something you do once a week and don’t think about afterwards. It’s daily practices, maybe two games a week, parties, being recognized all over campus, and – unless you want to mess up team mojo – hanging out with other hockey players. It would be fine if I wasn’t a traumatized college student who only feels safe around her best friend and roommate. Fuck, would he bring them over? My chest is tight, because I want to backtrack and change my mind, but instead, I promise myself we’ll set ground rules. Like no hockey players when I’m home. Or ever, ideally.

“Are you sure about this?” Jason asks. “Because you really don’t look it.”

“My shrink wants me to socialize,” I lie, though he probably does.

“At a hockey party?”

“At a fundraiser in broad daylight.” With you, I want to add, but I don’t want to make him feel like he has to stick by me the entire time. As long as I can see him in the distance, I’ll be fine. Not to mention the panic button on my watch, my mace, my rape whistle…I usually feel awkward using the last two at a bar where people are there to hook up and my PTSD shouldn’t ruin everyone else’s night, but with hockey players…I won’t take any chances.

Chapter Eleven

Owen

She came

“Are a lot of people coming?” Julie asks me as I carry crates from the storage room to the makeshift carnival.

Katie completely reimagined the soccer fields behind the shelter and is running around like a total boss, which I know she hates, but she’s killing it.

“I hope so. The more people buy tickets and play games, the more money we raise.”

“So more ice cream? And board games?” She perks up.

“Definitely,” I promise, making a mental note to bring new board games with me next time I come. And those individual Ben & Jerry’s tubs.

Technically, my dad has been covering the women’s shelter’s entire operating budget since it opened, but Mrs. Davidson puts any extra towards getting the women set up in new places, like the apartment complex the shelter just bought.

“Will they be strangers?” Julie presses.

“Well, you know me.” She giggles. “And Mike and Colt and Dave,” I list my roommates. “Most of the hockey team is coming.”

“Chris?” she asks excitedly.

“You know, I can play guitar too,” I pretend to be offended, but I was just as shocked as anyone else last spring when we had a bonfire at the backyard camping trip and he whipped out a guitar.