Page 172

“What happened with Brennan yesterday?”

“He told me I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Could’ve saved everybody forty minutes and asked me.”

I give him the finger.

Jordan just sits there, waiting.

I finish tying my skate and reach for the other one.

When I finally can’t take it anymore, I blurt out, “She dumped me.”

His eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Shit! I’m so sorry, man.” He waits again for me to say more, but when I don’t, he asks, “Why did she dump you?”

I laugh under my breath, but there’s no joy behind it. “Turns out I misread things.”

Coach blows his whistle from the hallway, calling us out and effectively ending my talk with Jordan.

Thank fuck. I don’t want to dwell on this more than I have to.

We both head for the ice, enduring a grueling session with a Coach Brennan who doesn’t seem to have forgiven me.

When I lose the puck along the boards because my brain is busy remembering the look on Quinn’s face last night, his voice cracks across the ice.

“Larkin!”

I look over.

“If you plan on joining us today, now would be a great fucking time.”

There are about twenty answers I’d enjoy giving him. I swallow every one.

“Yes, Coach.”

The next drill starts.

I force everything else out.

Quinn.

Last night.

The fact that her father is standing twenty feet away from me and wasn’t too happy that I was his daughter’s boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend now, of course.

I skate.

By the end of practice, my lungs burn and sweat is running down my back, but at least I’m too exhausted to think clearly.

Jordan corners me outside the locker room.

“We should finish our talk from earlier.”

“Can’t a dude take a shower?”

“You smell terrible, but this is more important.”