Page 14

14

LANE

A drenaline still simmers through me as I unlace my skates in the locker room after practice. My official return to the ice after breaking my leg in the Frozen Four championship game last year is only days away.

Just feeling the blades of my skates sliding over the ice and the sting of the cold on my cheeks beneath my helmet was enough to light me up from head to toe with a dizzying mixture of excitement and nervous tension.

I’m fully cleared to return to the game. I feel good. My leg feels strong. Practices have been going well, and after a couple weeks of shaking off rust, my skills feel just as sharp as ever.

At the same time, there’s no substitute for playing a real, competitive game of hockey, and that’s something I haven’t done for nine long months.

All the indications are in my favor, but the fact is, I’m not going to know if I’m still my old self until the whistle blows.

And until I prove to myself that I am, I know the tight ball of tension weighing down my stomach isn’t going anywhere.

I step into the shower.

Today’s one of those days where that ball of tension is weighing heavier than usual. I try to chase them away, but when I close my eyes to duck my head under the hot stream of water, images of failure flash on the insides of my eyelids.

Getting deked left and right because my leg doesn’t have the same reflexes it used to. Being just a smidge too slow to keep up with the better forwards. Memories of the trauma of my injury making me flinch during body checks and affecting my ability to control the puck.

After toweling off and walking back to my locker, I find myself wishing that one of my teammates would blurt out some bullshit that launches the guys into a ridiculous, pointless conversation to take my mind off those intrusive doubts.

Luckily, and not surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for Tuck McCoy, our right forward, to fulfill my wish.

“What’s the longest any of ya’ll have ever gone naked?”

Rhys, my best friend, arches an eyebrow at our roommate. “Naked?”

“Yeah, naked,” Tuck replies chipperly. “Like this.”

He tugs at the towel wrapped around his waist, letting it fall to the floor and giving everyone a first-hand demonstration of what exactly naked means, in case there were any doubts.

Hudson, our goalie, rolls his eyes. “Put your dick away, Tuck.”

Tuck, predictably, does no such thing. Instead, he props his forearm against the end of the row of lockers and leans in a way that has his cock swinging between his legs.

“You know, I’ve had people give me a lot of instructions about what to do with my dick, but putting it away has never been one of them,” he says to Hudson, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’m glad I’m moving,” Hudson grumbles, lowering his brow and averting his gaze from his butt-naked best friend.

“Don’t remind me,” Tuck replies, the jubilance now drained from his voice, “you’ll make me tear up again.”

Rhys, Sebastian, and I snicker because we know he’s not joking.

Hudson’s moving out of the house where the five of us have lived together since the beginning of last school year. He and his girlfriend, Summer, want at least one semester of living together before they graduate.

Tuck’s crestfallen.

No one would have bet that the two would become such close friends when they first met, but they have. Not only that, but both of them are also dating two best friends. Tuck likes to say they’re practically brothers-in-law.

They’ll still be seeing each other all the time—Tuck will make sure of that; Hudson couldn’t shake him off even if he wanted to—but Tuck’s still getting all sappy over them not being roommates anymore starting tomorrow when we’re helping Hudson move his stuff into his and Summer’s new place.

Tuck takes a moment to collect his emotions. The enthusiasm is back in his voice when he asks, “Well?”

“Well, what?” Sebastian replies, stepping into his boxers.

“What’s the longest you’ve all been naked for?” Tuck reiterates.

“I don’t know,” Rhys answers on a chuckle. “I never timed it out.”

“I was thinking the other day that it’d be a cool personal record to set,” Tuck says. “See how long you could go. Like, try to go a whole twenty-four hours with zero clothes on. Might be fun.”

“Now I’m really glad I’m moving,” Hudson chimes in.

An interested hum rumbles from Rhys. “That doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea. Maybe Maddie and I can rent a secluded cabin or something during the summer and try it out.”

A slimy feeling pitter-patters down my spine. “Ugh, come on, dude. That’s my sister. We talked about you guys keeping certain things to yourselves.”

Rhys cocks a wry smirk at me. Giving each other shit and yanking each other’s chains has always been a big part of our friendship, but now that he’s dating my sister, he holds the ultimate trump card.

I sling off my towel and get dressed. While my arms are raised to pull on a t-shirt, I can sense Sebastian’s gaze ticking to the spot underneath my left armpit. He breathes out a chuckle.

“Still can’t believe you got that thing. It looks so out of place on you.”

Before tugging and letting the hem of the shirt fall to my waist, I trace the inked design with my fingertips.

My one and only tattoo. Got it a year and a half ago, drunk at the end of a night of trying to drink away a stubborn heartbreak a week after getting back from Chicago.

Maybe it was a bad idea to etch a permanent reminder of Scarlett on my skin. Obviously, I didn’t make anything close to the kind of impression on her that she made on me.

Still, the thought of simply forgetting her felt so much more tragic than carrying a memento of the pain I felt when she told me it was best for us to simply never see each other again.

You’d think that eighteen months after a brief summer fling, I wouldn’t feel any residual pangs of hurt over how it ended.

Yeah, you’d think.

At least I’m getting better at pushing it down, filing it away in a drawer in my mind that I’m getting better and better at shutting, at least for periods of time.

Which is what I do right now.

“Come on,” I announce, stepping into my shoes. “Let’s get some ramen. I’m starving.”

For the umpteenth time in the last sixty seconds, Tuck sniffles loudly. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry …”

“No, you didn’t,” Sebastian says, kneeling down to pick up one of Hudson’s boxes. “In fact, you told yourself and all of us that you were going to cry like a baby all day long.”

Tuck takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Hud’ll let me sleep over at his and Summer’s place now and then, for old time’s sake.”

“No, I won’t,” Hudson grouses as he pads down the stairs, carrying his desk.

We’ve rented a small moving truck for the couple blocks’ journey to a tiny rowhouse that Hudson and Summer will be living in for this semester.

While I’m not as dramatic as Tuck, I feel a twinge of bittersweetness myself.

We’ll still be seeing Hudson at practice all the time, and I have no doubt we’ll still be hanging out regularly, but him moving out does feel like a premature foreshadowing of the end of an era that’s barreling toward us with graduation this May.

It’s an unseasonably warm day today. Okay, warm is a major overstatement. It’s more like an unseasonably not quite freeze-your-balls-off cold day. But with no wind whipping through the air and the sun out in a clear blue sky, it’s at least comfortable enough for us to all take a break on the porch together after filling the truck before we drive over.

“So, any idea who’s gonna take my room yet?” Hudson asks, leaning against the carved wooden railing that lines the wide porch.

I shrug. “Nope. Jamie and Carter don’t want it. They like where they’re at now.”

Rhys cracks a beer since he’s not driving the truck and settles into a rocking chair underneath one of the front windows. “Seems like every single semester since Hudson moved in, one of us has gotten into a relationship. Wonder if him moving will break the streak.”

“I won’t be keeping it up, you can count on that,” Sebastian says, taking off his black-framed glasses and puffing on one of the lenses to buff out a smudge. “I enjoy my freedom too much. I enjoy it about every other night, in fact,” he adds with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Tuck shakes his head. “That’s how I felt for a long time, kid. One day, you’ll trade it all for the right girl.”

Sebastian shrugs, hooking his glasses back over his ears underneath his thick, raven-black hair. “One day? Maybe. But not anytime soon.”

Hudson nods toward me, a rare grin tilting his lips. “What about our captain?”

I huff a laugh. “Yeah, right. I gotta readjust to the game after nine months off for an injury and steer the team to the Frozen Four win that none of us can accept graduating without.” I feel the unspoken assent from the other guys as intensity seeps into their gazes and they nod in agreement. “I’m not even gonna be hooking up until after the season.”

Suddenly, my eyes feel drawn to someone walking down the sidewalk a block away from the house. My gaze ticks to the figure—and it feels like a bolt of lightning slams into me.

Instantly, it’s like time stops. The breath catches in my chest. My eyelids can’t even blink.

My brain doesn’t accept what I’m seeing at first. It’s just too out of step with what I expect from reality, and I’m bowled over by the kind of dumb disbelief you might feel if you saw a tree pull itself out of the ground and walk away.

I gather enough control over my body to close my eyes. I press my eyelids firmly shut for two long seconds, and then I reopen them, my gaze trained the couple extra steps down the sidewalk where I know the figure will be.

It’s her.

There’s no mistaking it.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck pull straight up. An electric shiver rolls through my body.

The outlines of the ink engraved below my left armpit burn.

For the first time in a year and a half, I’m looking at Scarlett Astor.

“Who’s that? You know her?” Tuck’s voice is the first thing I hear through the indistinct buzzing in my ears.

I sense more than see Sebastian take a step toward the porch railing, leaning on it, his gaze pointed in the same direction as mine. “Haven’t noticed her around before,” he says. The hint of interest laced through his voice is enough to bring a bitter taste to my mouth.

My eyes tick away from Scarlett to Sebastian. There’s a perked look on his face that matches the tone of his voice. My stomach twists unpleasantly, and an involuntary scowl pulls on my face while my jaw ticks.

Tuck’s neck is swiveling between me and Scarlett while she’s still in view. “What’s the deal between you two, Captain?”

“Deal?” My throat is sandpaper dry. “There’s no deal.”

“I’ve seen her around,” Rhys says casually. “She goes out with this guy on the basketball team.”

A dark emotion clogs my throat. Scarlett’s been here long enough to be going out with some fucker from the basketball team, and I haven’t noticed her until now?

What fucker from the basketball team?

“Who?” I bark at Rhys, my head whipping to him with more force than I have self-control to restrain. “When?”

My jaw is set firm and hard while Rhys regards me blankly without answering—until his flat expression cracks into laughter that billows into the chilly air.

“Oh, man,” he says, slapping his knee. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me, dude. That’s not cool. But I’ve never seen that girl in my life. Just wanted to confirm a suspicion.”

Tuck throws his head back and lets out a guffaw. Sebastian only looks back at me with a smarmy smirk once Scarlett’s walked far enough to be out of eyesight. Even Hudson’s eyes light up with amusement.

“Damn, now I kind of regret moving out. Something tells me things might start getting interesting around here.”

My brow lowers, and my lips press into a straight line.

I should be telling my so-called friends to go fuck themselves, but my brain is too full of zig-zagging thoughts.

Is Scarlett a Brumehill student now? Since when? How haven’t I noticed her around campus? Did she just move here?

Has she been doing well for the last year and a half?

Does she even remember me?

That last question is like a bucket of ice water rolling down my spine.

Considering how we left things, she might still remember me if she tries, but I doubt she spares many of her thoughts for me anymore. Not eighteen months after we met.

Certainly not the way I spare way too many of my thoughts for her. Still.

I push up from my chair and snag the truck keys from the ledge of the railing.

“Alright, let’s get a move on,” I announce, striding forward. “I’ll drive.”