Page 58 of Breakaway Hearts

I’m not quick enough to come up with a witty retort before Jason comes up behind Owen and smiles at the sight of me.

“First college shutout!” I congratulate him and whoop a little too loudly, garnering weird looks from some, but everyone wearing teal enthusiastically joins in.

“I’ve had good practice.” He winks at me, but I’ve been impressed how not rusty he is after over a year training with nothing more than my mediocre ass.

“We’re having a party at Ivy tonight,” Owen shares, eyes on me like he’s waiting for me to turn it down.

“Don’t you always have parties at Ivy?” Tab finds us with some of the other Wolves.

“But tonight is in Hargraves’ honor. He saved our asses out there and didn’t let a single puck in, no thanks to the rest of us.” Owen’s tone is celebratory of Jason, but the guys all look defeated despite their win.

Jason looks at me, probably sees how much I don’t want to go to that party, and says, “Make sure to have a drink for me, but I’ve got a paper due Monday that I haven’t even started.”

“You can go,” I tell him, fully aware he finished that paper last night, because we ordered his disgusting Hawaiian pizza to celebrate.

“It’s fine,” he assures me. “I’m sure there’ll be other parties.”

That he also won’t go to. Because he feels guilty leaving me behind. Because of what happened at the last hockey party we went to. And I love that for me. More than anything, I want to go home and watch some WW1 documentary with Jason. Maybe order tacos. But Jay killed it tonight, and he’s going to keep being amazing. It isn’t fair to make him miss out on everything because of me. Or because of Trevor, I know, but he’s not here tonight. I’m the one holding us back. And there are those high school girls…

“It’s in your honor, Hargraves. I’ll help you with the paper tomorrow.”

If anyone is concerned by my offering to help him in a subject I am entirely unfamiliar with, they keep it to themselves.

“You’ll come too?” Tabytha is the one who asks, ridiculously excited, but both Owen and Jason’s eyes are on me, awaiting my answer.

Owen is holding back a smile, as if he’s worried me seeing it would change my answer, but Jason is looking at me with concern. If we were telepathic, like we convinced my dad one summer, I’d say his eyes were asking, ‘Are you sure?’

I nod to Jason and Tabytha squeals, linking my arm through hers as she tells me how exciting it is to have another non-WAG WAG to hang out with.

Jason lasts a whole five minutes, waiting until we pass Words & Lattes to ask, “You sure about this?”

I smile, because my dad was clearly right, but then I remember what the this is, and the answer is no, I’m definitely not.

“Exposure therapy,” I say simply, because we’re not in the habit of lying to each other.

“Isn’t that what people die of on Everest?”

I smile. “That’s what I told my shrink, but apparently, this kind is good for me.”

Jason parks on the street, but turns to me once he kills the engine, looking concerned. “This isn’t you putting yourself in dangerous situations so…”

“It isn’t,” I stop him before he can make guesses at why I went to bars and clubs without him the entire summer after it happened, basically begging someone to hurt me. They didn’t, but I wasn’t doing much to stop them. I think Jay was afraid I was trying to get myself killed, but I just wanted to not relive that moment every time someone touched me. I gave them everything before they could ask, in case they didn’t, so no one could take it. Which, I know, is very not healthy. Hence the therapy.

“This is me hoping that if I go to enough parties where nothing happens, I’ll stop being afraid something will happen.”

“Did you say parties?”

“I think that’s the goal. Unless this one kills me.” He doesn’t laugh. “They do say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

He’s lying. I’m a scared little mouse, but I don’t want to be. If only from the spite of not wanting Trevor to keep winning.

“Let’s go, Mr. Wall, your fans await.”

He chuckles like I’m silly, but I can see the pride in that smile, the likes of which I haven’t seen in ages.

The hockey house is on a quiet, suburban street, and if there weren’t so many cars along the road, I’d have no idea there was a party going on. Or that hockey ‘bros’ live here. The most I hear is crickets and the occasional jangle of a wind chime, which surprises me almost as much as the fairy lights illuminating the wraparound porch. It doesn’t extend all the way to the back, but there’s a swing, and flower beds on either side of the stairs, which lead to a cozy little welcome mat.