Page 10 of The Alternate Captain (Elite Hockey #3)

My nerves are off the chart as we pull up outside Bettsy’s family home, a large detached new-build off the motorway near his hometown.

Ffordey and I returned from France yesterday, and Bettsy thought it’d be nice to have a barbecue this evening before we drive him back to the city tomorrow.

“I’m starving. I hope there’s not a long wait for food,” Ffordey says as we climb out of my car. The smell of a freshly lit grill wafts through the air, then the front door flings open.

“Thank fuck you guys are here,” Bettsy says, running out of the house like a dog who’s been home alone all day. He pulls me into a hug and pats heavily on my back. “I’m so glad you could make it. I’m going insane here.”

“How’s your summer been?” Ffordey asks .

“Shit. Please tell me all your golfing stories because I need to live vicariously through you.”

We spent three weeks touring Southern France before settling on a golf course for a week. And it’s been great. Except, it hasn’t been great, either. I’ve had too much time to think about Kelly. And since there’s every chance I could bump into her today, the anxiety is almost too much to bear.

“It was pretty uneventful,” I say. “But Ffordey and I had a blast.”

He’s my favourite travel companion. He doesn’t make idle conversation, and he doesn’t procrastinate with plans. I say ten, and he’s ready five minutes before. He’s perfect.

I grab our bags from the trunk, and we follow Bettsy inside. I’m a wreck. I can feel my body trembling. Is she here? What will I say? What will she say? What if...

“Mam and Kelly have gone to see Stacey. Something about wedding planning or whatever.” We follow Bettsy into the kitchen where he stops at the fridge to grab a few beers.

“Who’s getting married?” Ffordey asks, saving me the job.

“Stacey. The guy she’s seeing is a dick though. I can’t even believe Dad said she could marry the guy.”

“It’s not the nineteen hundreds, dude. I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing anymore,” I say.

“I think it’s proper. I guess I’m a traditional guy.”

Ffordey almost chokes on his beer. “Traditional? You? You realise back in the day, most people didn’t have sex before marriage.”

Bettsy rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying. The guy is a prick.”

“Who’s a prick?” Bettsy’s dad, Tony, steps into the kitchen from the patio. He’s wearing an apron that says ‘Prick with a fork’ which coaxes a snicker from me and Ffordey.

“Who do you think?” Bettsy says.

“Ah,” Tony says.

“See. Say no more. ”

“I hope you boys like steak,” Tony says, rummaging in the fridge. He pulls out a tray of meat and gestures for us to follow him outside.

We gather around the barbecue, chatting about the upcoming season and Bettsy’s incident. Once Tony serves the food, our conversation flows so smoothly that I completely forget about my concerns for Kelly.

I’m relaxed. Until a distant car door slams, followed by the front door opening and closing, accompanied by a musical call, signifying someone’s return.

Shit.

Bettsy’s mom, Judith, appears at the patio door, waving at us before asking if we’re good for drinks.

“How was it?” Tony calls.

“Don’t ask.” Judith waves her hand dismissively, disappearing back into the kitchen. There’s a clattering of kitchenware, then she returns, carrying a tray of fresh drinks into the yard. “But that aside, Kelly had an email when we were driving home, Tony. It’s not good news.”

“What email?” Tony asks, wrinkling his brow.

“Kelly, love. The music college emailed to say she didn’t get a spot. She’s upset, as you can imagine. I’m going to take her a cuppa now.” Judith disappears again.

Bettsy exhales. “That sucks. I bet she’s gutted.” He pulls his phone out and taps the screen a few times, then holds it to his ear. “Get your arse down here, Kel. Come and have a beer.”

My pulse thunders in my ears and the nerves kick in. Without fully understanding the situation I’m putting myself in, I excuse myself to use the bathroom, hoping I can have a moment alone.

Judith points me towards the washroom, and as I round the corner, I lock eyes with Kelly, who’s making her way down the stairs.

My heart practically falls out of my chest .

She smooths the front of her sundress, and I can see she’s been crying. Her face is red and blotchy, and her eyes, big and green, look puffy.

“Johnny—” She wipes her eyes, stopping at the last step.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Stupid really, because obviously she’s not.

“Yeah,” she says, giving her face another pass with the back of her hand.

I dip into the bathroom and grab some toilet paper, since that’s all I can think of, and hand it to her.

“Thanks,” she sniffs, moving off the stairs.

The whole thing breaks my heart. Seeing Vicky cry is one thing, but this is completely different. She looks so fucking sad, and I want to comfort her. I want to make her feel better. I want to see her smile.

I wrap my arms around her, her head fitting into the crook of my neck with ease. For a moment, I think I’ve over-stepped the mark, but then her arms snake around me and she squeezes me gently.

“It’s okay,” I soothe, catching myself breathing in the smell of her shampoo.

And despite what happened in April, this doesn’t feel weird. It feels...

Her mom’s footsteps pull us apart. Kelly discreetly moves back two steps to avoid any obvious sign of our hug. Judith hands her a mug and slips away, not even commenting on my loitering spot.

“I heard about the email,” I say. “I’m sorry.” I regret it as soon as it’s out. But for some reason, I keep fucking talking. “I’d love to tell you it wasn’t meant to be or whatever, but you probably don’t want to hear that yet. I know I didn’t want to hear it when I didn’t get—”

“No, I know. I... you know what? It doesn’t matter.” She sniffs loudly and dabs her eyes with the tissue. A carriage clock on the wall ticks away the seconds before Kelly speaks again. “ Mam said Mike was having some friends over. I guess I should have known it’d be you.”

“Yeah. I guess I’d have told you, but I don’t have your number or anything.”

“Right.”

“I suppose I could have tried to message you on socials, but my sister looks after my accounts and she’s nosier than Bettsy.”

She smiles, ever so subtly. “It’s fine. I mean, I wouldn’t have stopped you coming over or whatever.”

“Well, I was, uh... actually hoping I’d bump into you.”

“You were?” Her eyes are full and sad, but there’s a flash of excitement on her face. I shove my hands into the pockets of my chinos, contemplating what I should say next, but me being me, I fuck it up.

“You didn’t tell Mike about my, uh, problem, did you?”

Her face turns cold again. She stares at me, blank at first, as if she’s processing what I’ve asked, but then she blinks and purses her lips. “No, Johnny. I didn’t. In fact, you haven’t come up once in conversation,” she snaps, setting her mug down on a sideboard.

Shit.

She steps forward, with purpose this time, and I’m forced to step aside and let her pass.

“Kelly, wait—I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

I grit my teeth and follow her. But instead of stepping out into the garden, where everyone else is, she disappears behind a door at the far end of the kitchen.

“Johnny? Come on, man. Are you playing or what?” Ffordey calls as he waves a deck of cards at me.

Just as I’m about to step outside, the door Kelly went through flings open, and she strides out with her jacket on.

“I’m going out,” she shouts into the garden before brushing past me towards the front door.

I turn to follow her, but the slam of the front door tells me all I need to know.