Page 15

Chapter Ten

Adeline

A text came in on the Kershaw Kinder chain from my brother Landon, quickly followed by one from Conor.

Is this true about Nyquist?

Conor

Which part? That he knocked up some chick or that Addy’s living in a sitcom playing the guy’s nanny?

Landon

All of it.

Now University of Michigan seniors, the twins were two years younger than me, but the gap had always felt wider, especially where Conor was concerned.

Me

Is it so strange I’m helping? Oh, right, you guys are so self-absorbed, helping someone else isn’t on your radar.

Conor

Ooh, big sis is testy!

Landon

Only yourself to blame, Addy. Shouldn’t have let #Elleo boss you around.

Me

My choice.

Conor

Heard it happened in the bathroom of the Empty Net. Would’ve thought Nyquist was old enough to know better.

Was that true? I didn’t want to think of Lars with someone else and I especially didn’t want to think of the sex they had in a bar bathroom that resulted in a child.

Me

And you know this how?

Conor

Boden told H. Says he remembers the night *very well* because Nyquist was in a foul mood, something about his dad being interviewed after a DUI and the news dredging up all the old shit between them in the media.

Meets this chick, bang-a-thon in the head, and nine months later we’ve got baby Nyquist.

Me

Shouldn’t you guys be out drinking or picking up casual sex partners instead of gossiping? I hear that’s what college is all about.

I wouldn’t know from my own college experience, but my brothers were immensely popular. Men and women were constantly sliding into my DMs, looking to hook up with them.

Landon

I’m studying. And Conor is … not.

Conor

I’m waiting for this girl I know to end her shift at the bar. And then the fun begins.

Me

TMI! You should be studying too. You can’t rely on hockey.

He’d already been drafted and his future was set. I liked to poke fun at him all the same.

Conor

Think I can. The genes are strong with this one. And if it doesn’t work out, Landon will support me with whatever app he creates.

Landon

In your dreams. Addy, are you living with Nyquist?

Me

Short-term, looking after the baby. She’s so cute.

I sent a pic of Mabel.

Conor

That just makes me want to double-wrap my dick from here on out.

Landon

But with Nyquist? Is he treating you okay?

The more intuitive and sensitive of my little brothers, for sure.

Me

I barely see him. That’s kind of the point—I’m here when he’s not.

Conor

Addy, don’t go falling for Nyquist. He’s much too old for you.

My cheeks heated. Had Rosie said something? She wouldn’t have shared with Conor, I knew that much. They did not get along.

Me

Not interested. Hockey players are all assholes. Present company *not* excepted.

Landon

Agreed.

Landon had dated one last year who broke his heart, the bastard.

He added:

Plus, Addy’s not going to waste her time on some guy who impregnates puck bunnies against the urinal. So classy. She wants the Great Love Story like Mom and Dad.

This was true, and I certainly wasn’t expecting my former crush to mature into something as epic as Theo and Elle Kershaw.

Me

Trademark!

Landon

Trademark!

As kids, the last person to yell “trademark” after the first mention of the “Great Love Story” got a punch. These days, we were rarely in each other’s physical presence enough to continue the tradition but still scored points against each other any way we could.

Conor

My girl’s here, so gotta go. Talk soon after + =

Landon

Bro, no one cares about your orgasms.

Conor

I do. I care about them a lot.

Hatch

What have I missed?

Never mind, educational as always. Also, trademark! Conor, last again.

Conor

But I’m about to get laid, so who’s the loser now?

Me

Good game tonight, H. You on the plane yet?

Hatch

At the airport. And thanks. We did good.

Before the thread could launch into a blow-by-blow account of the game (or Conor’s sex life), I bowed out. A minute later, Hatch called.

I answered quickly. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just wanted to check in. I feel like I’ve barely seen you since you came home.”

Hatch and I were usually close; at two years older, he felt protective of me, and I had always adored him.

As a kid, I’d followed him around constantly, and he’d never once told me to get lost. Yet, since returning home, I’d placed distance between us, mostly because I hated lying to him.

Not sharing what happened in Greece felt dishonest.

“I know. We should make some time to get together when you’re back in town.”

“Yep. Or you could just tell me what’s going on now.”

Anxiety made my hands itch. “Going on?”

“Yeah, you’ve been quiet. Or quieter than usual. And this nanny thing is kind of out there.”

“Like I said, Lars needed help.”

He passed over that. “How come you came home early? Rosie said you guys were loving Italy and you still had Spain to do. What changed your mind?”

I squirmed, hating myself for keeping it from him. “Just homesick. I missed everyone.”

“Well, I missed you, too.”

“Oh, everyone but you.”

“Ha ha.”

I changed the subject. “You haven’t said how you like working with Dad.”

“Dad’s gonna dad, y’know? It’s cool. I always knew he was the hardest worker in the league but seeing it up close is … well, inspiring.”

I smiled, loving that he was in this enviable position. “I think I’m going to have to put a video together. You and Dad tearing it up on the ice.” When I was younger, I loved creating highlight reels of my dad’s best moves. My brothers, too.

“That’d be cool. Mostly I just want to be there for him this season because it could be the last. I worry this Nyquist drama will have a negative impact on the team. We need everyone on deck.”

“That’s why I’m trying to help. Keep everything on an even keel. Go Rebels.” Which meant my own drama needed to stay well and truly buried. We chit-chatted some more and rang off with promises to meet up when he returned.

With no more family to occupy me, I lay back in the bed in the guest room, feeling the shadows draw in.

Perhaps I should have bunked with my mom and Tilly tonight or taken Rosie up on her offer to stay over, but a show of strength was almost as important as actual strength.

I reopened the guest bedroom window, closed it, and made sure it was secure.

I rechecked the alarm. Again.

Not yet ready to sleep, I took out my computer and started pulling clips of the game into my editing software.

My dad’s tenacity and perseverance still amazed me.

Sure, his stats had slipped a touch over the last couple of years, but that was understandable.

Defenseman statistics weren’t as flashy as the offensive ones anyway.

He had made a couple of minor mistakes tonight, but Lars was always there to cover. The two of them were a well-oiled machine, cogs in each other’s engines. To the soundtrack of Mabel’s baby snores, I worked on creating a video of the defense’s greatest hits since the season had started.

Then I took a walk around downstairs, checking doors and windows once more.

I was overdoing it, I knew that much. Before my travels, I was devil-may-care about my safety.

I thought nothing of walking home with headphones on or barely noting my surroundings after dark.

Used to people and cars, I was a city-raised girl with what I thought was an innate common sense and spatial awareness.

Slickers like me grew up with Spidey senses, but that night, six weeks ago on the island of Santorini, they failed me.

I should have stayed with Rosie, but of the two Australian guys we’d met at the village bar, the one “assigned” to me wasn’t really digging it.

Neither was I, but I was trying to be more open to new adventures.

My guy Shane was already hedging his bets: yawning and talking about getting up early to hike while his gaze wandered to a couple of cute French girls at the bar.

I decided to make it easy for him. “I’m going to turn in.”

Rosie lifted her head and frowned. She leaned around Galen, the surfer she’d been flirting with all evening. “Just one more drink.”

I waved off the offer and stood, smoothing my shorts, which had ridden up to reveal my tan lines. Shane didn’t even look, only turning back from his obvious attentions to the bar when Galen nudged him in the ribs.

“You should walk Aveline back.”

“It’s Adeline … Never mind. I’m fine! It’s just a few blocks up the hill.”

A polite Shane made a half-hearted effort to pull himself upright all the same. “No worries, happy to.”

“I’ll get a cab.” I didn’t want to cramp anyone’s fun. That was my brand. Let everyone enjoy themselves. No Debbie Downer vibes here.

I raised my hand in a wave and turned to go. My arm was caught by Rosie.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come back with you?”

“I’m fine!” I grinned. “But maybe I should stay to make sure you’re okay?”

“I’m drinking water,” she said. “And believe me, I can handle this one.”

Rosie was the strongest person I knew. She knew how to look after herself, and I hated to interfere with her fun.

Besides, she’d just seen a photo of my brother online with a girl at a club back home, so she was on some sort of revenge sex mission.

Not that Hatch even knew or cared about her crush, but Rosie knew, and I cared, so I was fully on board with any plan to bone away her sadness.

“So, we’re both where we need to be.” Smiling, I pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

The hostel was a third of a kilometer away, less than a ten-minute walk. I could cab it, but I didn’t want dirty looks from some taxi driver because the fare was hardly worth his time. A brisk walk and alert posture would do the trick. I’d be in bed before I even had a chance to get worried.

A fat fingernail moon shone above, though every now and then, clouds scudded across the crescent and an eerie darkness fell over the sandy streets.

Bougainvillea with hints of coconut scented the air.

As I moved away from the village and up the hill, the gravel beneath my sandals gave a dry squelch.

A couple of minutes in, that was the only sound I could hear as the bar’s music receded.

Alone at last. Don’t get me wrong, I loved traveling with Rosie, but her extrovert nature sometimes wore me out.

I needed some solo down time, and this walk back was the perfect respite.

Then I heard it, a soft patter behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see a dark figure following at some distance.

Probably someone heading home or another reveler on their way to the hostel.

Up ahead was the entrance to a villa Rosie had pointed out earlier in the evening, its lights shining bright into the night, and for a mad moment, I thought about banging left, sprinting down the driveway, pounding on the door for sanctuary.

But a few seconds later, I had passed it, leaving behind my crazy thoughts. I worried about looking foolish.

Better foolish than dead, Aurora would say.

I increased my pace, putting distance between me and the phantom. I looked behind to see him or her making the turn into the villa. A local on their way home, and I’d let my brain run a mile thinking he was on my tail.

My relief was so obvious that I didn’t even notice him until I bumped into a wall of muscle. He was tall. Heavyset. I smelled alcohol—grappa, perhaps—and tobacco.

He said something in Greek. I shook my head, assuming it was a question, and stepped around him.

He pulled my arm. I jerked away. I didn’t even see it coming until the blow landed like a bomb against my cheek.

Reeling from the shock, I lost my footing.

This guy hit me! Only then did I feel truly scared.

Our positions magnified the threat, him looming above, the moon halo-ing his head like an avenging angel.

Me on the gravel, exposed with my legs splayed because of the way I’d fallen.

More Greek muttering, then he pulled at the strap of my purse, a crossbody.

He only wants my money. My phone. My possessions.

Not me.

I should have pulled it over my head, handed it over, but I was paralyzed with fear. He yanked on the strap, drawing me closer to him, close enough I could smell body odor and alcohol fumes.

“Give,” he growled. Finally, a word I could understand.

Still, I did nothing. My cheek stung from where he’d struck me, but mostly I was stunned that this could happen to me.

White, privileged, American.

Stupid.

Another strike came, this time to my mouth. I felt my lip bust open, the ooze of blood. Then someone was shouting.

Not me. I was too passive. Too absurdly quiet about this assault on my person.

Those yells were from Rosie.

By the time she reached me, he was gone, sprinting back up the hill toward the hostel, taking with him any self-assurance I’d possessed, any modicum of bravery I felt about striding out into the world.

“Addy! Oh fucking hell, what did he do to you?” She cradled my head and held me close. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I had this weird feeling and decided to call it a night.”

“It’s okay,” I muttered into the crook of her arm. “You didn’t know.”

Six weeks later after a visit to Lucca, Florence, and Siena in Italy, we came home, cutting the travels short by two months and pleading homesickness as our excuse.

It wasn’t entirely untrue. I wanted the bosom of my family, the familiarity of home, the safety of being a Kershaw.

I swore Rosie to secrecy because if my family knew, it would confirm everything they thought they knew of me: that I was weak, delicate, in need of protection.

It would confirm what I knew of myself.

I had taken on this nanny gig, not just to help Lars or to ensure Mabel was cared for, but to heal and find the one thing I needed.

A way back to myself.