Page 25

Crew

“A re you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Lane asked as I buttoned up my white dress shirt.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “The both of us don’t have to go through pain if it’s unnecessary.”

There was a buzz against my mattress, and I assumed it was Lane’s phone when he went to pick it up, until he read the text aloud.

Dad: Georgia asked if Lane is coming with you?

I tipped my head back laughing, finishing up the last button.

It was almost painful, not to mention sad, how oblivious my father was and how in denial Lane was that Georgia had a thing for him.

“That’s another reason you shouldn’t come,” I said. “Not sure if I feel like watching Georgia eye-fuck you throughout dinner.”

“Crew,” he complained.

“You know I’m right.”

“I really don’t think so,” he said, laying back and propping himself up using his elbows at the end of my bed.

“Then why’s she asking about you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe she just wants to make sure they made enough food.”

“No, no, nooo ,” I yelped towards the ceiling. “You know what?” I turned, “Come with me then. But only if...” I paused, emphasizing the word.

“If?”

“If you flirt with her.”

He let out a humorless laugh that echoed around the room like he was laughing loudly into a well. “What?” he shrieked.

“I’m being serious,” I assured him.

Burying his head into his hands for a moment, he tried to wrap his mind around the idea. “You want me... to flirt... with your stepmom?”

“Yes.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“So, you can finally see what I’m talking about.” I tipped my chin back, spraying the small of my exposed skin with my Burberry cologne. “If she engages back in flirting, which she will , then you can’t deny it anymore.”

“She doesn’t have a thing for me, bro.”

“Then prove it to me,” I dared.

Lane used the tips of his fingers to rub the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in pain like he’d just taken a nasty hit on the ice.

“Consider it my birthday present,” I snickered.

“I already got you a birthday present!”

That, he did. He got me a pretty damn good present actually— the newest Apple Watch that recently came out, serving as a replacement for my old one, which I desperately needed after we went skating for fun over the summer and like an idiot, I forgot to take it off beforehand. It fell off mid-game and TJ skated right over it.

“That is true,” I said, “but this would be a nice, fun addition to the present.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Lane shook his head, “and ungrateful.”

“Hey!” I snapped at him. “I’m extremely grateful. You want me to show you how grateful I am with a nice hug and a smooch on the cheek?” I stepped towards him with my arms out, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen Lane skirt away so quickly.

“Get outta here,” he muttered, hopping across the bed.

Letting out a chuckle, I watched him shift around uncomfortably. “But seriously, if you do it and nothing happens, I won’t mention anything about Georgia wanting to fuck you ever again.”

Lane eyed me intently, the gears in his mind turning. Just as I thought he was about to take the offer, he threw another objection my way. “Dude, your dad’s gonna be there.”

“So? I see you subtly flirt with Bridget all the time, and no one ever catches it.” His eyes narrowed, becoming thin slits. “If they do, they never say anything at least.”

“And what happens if your dad asks why the hell I’m flirting with his wife?”

“He won’t,” I shrugged. “He’s oblivious.”

Lane stared up at the ceiling as if he were silently asking God for advice. His eyes dropped back to me, voice nowhere near enthusiastic. “I’ll go get dressed.”

***

“I’m pumped,” I announced, turning down my father’s street.

“You’re pumped ?” Lane heaved. “You went from being miserable about this dinner to being pumped?”

“Yes,” I pulled into the drive, then turned to Lane as I undid my seatbelt. “Now we gotta make sure we pay attention to the time. One hour. In and out. Then one hour at my mom’s.” He nodded along tightly as I spoke, glaring at me like I’d threatened to beat him with a hockey stick if he hadn’t come along. “The only goal is to survive.”

“No shit,” Lane grunted, reaching for the door handle, but stopping and turning back to me as I spoke again. He looked more bothered than he did sixty seconds prior.

“And then we stop at the liquor store on the way back, head to the house, and get obliterated because it’s my fucking birthday.”

“Fantastic,” he murmured, following me in.

“Hello!” I yelled, announcing our arrival.

“Nick!” My father appeared with a blazing smile, Georgia right on his heels. I had a clear view past his shoulder, seeing Georgia’s face brighten as she caught sight of Lane.

I grinned into my dad’s shoulder as he hugged me, noticing Georgia head straight to Lane to hug him first. We switched, hugging the other for a moment.

Tipping his head towards the staircase, my dad yelled, “Nathan! Come down!”

My little brother appeared a minute later, trudging down the stairs. “Happy birthday.”

I ruffled his hair, amused as he fought with my arm. “Thanks, kid,” I said.

“It smells really good,” Lane said beside me.

“Thanks, Lane,” Georgia smirked, gesturing for us to follow her into the kitchen. The counter was filled from end to end with food, and at first glance, I could tell she truly did make all my favorites like promised. “Go ahead and grab some plates and start digging in, guys.”

Lane nudged me, “Birthday boy first.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I muttered, grin disappearing as Nate ran ahead of me. “Really?”

He gave a shrug, picking up a plate.

“Nathan,” my dad chided.

I gripped him by the back of the shirt and tugged him behind me. “Yeah, Nathan .”

Georgia gave him a light smack on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “Be polite. Let the boys go first.” Her eyes jumped directly to Lane as she smiled, and I stifled a laugh, biting the inside of my cheek.

Everyone filled their plates and took a seat at the table, and the first few minutes were quiet other than the sound of silverware clattering. This was one of the many moments why I was so grateful for Lane. How many other people would voluntarily sit through an awkward dinner for me with no questions asked?

“How are things at the apartment?” my dad asked, shoveling pasta into his mouth.

I shot Lane a look, trying to send him a mind message to keep his mouth shut about Kota. He raised a single brow at me as he chewed but seemed to get the memo.

“Things are fine,” I said. Lane was still eyeing me, his mouth slowly and inevitably tugging upwards. I gritted my teeth together, wiping my mouth with a napkin. There I was, saying how grateful I was for him one second then throwing him under the bus the next. “Lane’s been seeing someone. She’s nice, name’s Ava.”

My eyes scanned the table, taking in everyone’s expressions. Nate’s and my dad’s focus were on their food, mindlessly glancing up every few seconds. Lane was shooting daggers at me, and when my mouth lifted lightly, the daggers got sharper.

When I looked over at Georgia, I noticed how tense her movements had become, how her jaw seemed to tighten as she brought her drink up and took a sip.

Georgia’s eyes dipped to Lane before falling back to her plate. “Oh, that’s nice. Is she pretty?”

I was trying to shield my growing smirk with the back of my hand, but it didn’t seem to be working as Lane’s eyes zeroed in on it. “Oh, yeah. She’s real pretty,” I answered, fighting a laugh. “Real, real pretty.”

C’mon, Lane. Flirt with her a wee bit. She’s waiting.

His mouth pulled up, the gleam in his eye fading from angry to impish. “Actually, ah, I ended things with Ava a few days ago.”

I stopped chewing, blinking at him. Was he for real right now? I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or if he was just saying shit to make my plan implode. Then again, Lane wasn’t a great liar, and he looked awfully candid right now.

“What?!” I screeched. “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

Lane’s shoulders fell up and down with a shrug, head falling with it as he looked at his plate, digging around with his fork. “I’ve been busy,” he murmured nonchalantly.

“With Bridget?”

His fierce blue eyes shot back up, daggers reappearing with it and sharper than ever.

“Who’s Bridget?” Georgia asked.

“Yeah, Lane,” I egged him on. “Who’s Bridget?”

His award-winning, kind expression came through as he turned to Georgia. “She’s our roommate.” Unfortunately for me, the kind version of Lane was going towards everyone besides me tonight. I could feel karma circling through the air as he looked back at me smugly. It was the moment I realized I fucked up— that mentioning Bridget made the conversation do a u- turn, bringing us right back to the apartment. “We have another roommate,” was all he said.

My dad spoke between bites. “Do they both still hate you guys?”

“Neither of them hates me. Bridget doesn’t seem to hate Crew either. Then again, she’s too nice to hate anyone,” Lane said, a small smile flickering over his face as he spoke of her, making me roll my eyes.

Don’t get me wrong, at this point, I genuinely liked Bridget. She was sweet and easy to be around, smart and considerate. But Lane was still in denial about his feelings.

Or was he just keeping them quiet from me?

I’d been so caught up in everything going on with Kota that I hadn’t been paying as much attention to Lane, or Lane and Bridget together for that matter. Not to mention the few days I was practically living at the hockey house.

My dad nodded. “What about the other one?”

Maybe if I just played dumb, I could save myself the embarrassment and coming lecture and get out of this conversation.

“What other one?”

Lane let out a deep chuckle, covering his mouth with a napkin.

I smiled at him, taking a glance at the clock on the oven’s control panel. It’d already been twenty minutes, which meant we were a third of the way through.

“How’s hockey going, Nate?” I asked.

Him and my dad both seemed to take the bait, and the next fifteen minutes were filled with solely hockey talk. My dad drilled me once again about when I’d take Nate to the rink and help him practice before asking us for every detail about our season so far and how we thought the rest of the season would go. And after my dad subtly dropped some comments about the draft, Lane excused himself from the table to go get seconds.

I wasn’t sure if he actually wanted seconds or not though.

In all honesty, Lane should not have been playing NCAA hockey. If he declared himself eligible for the draft years ago, he would’ve gotten drafted right out of high school. He had his own personal reasons for not going into the draft, and like the selfish prick I was, I was thankful he hadn’t. Because if he had, we never would’ve met.

But after my time in juniors, I was the twelfth pick in the opening round of the draft, chosen by the Blackhawks.

The drafting process was complicated with a lot of rules, but I made the age cutoff at the perfect time to participate in the entry draft. Lane however, no longer did. If he decided he wanted to go to the NHL, which it would’ve been a shame if he didn’t, he’d have to get signed as a free agent. In my opinion, it wasn’t a bad option since it gave him the opportunity to talk to as many teams as he liked. Since he truly was one of the best players in the country, he could easily choose whichever team he wanted. And man, oh man, would it be fucking awesome if we played on the Blackhawks together.

It was already November, so I had about five months until I was Chicago bound.

Which also meant Lane had about five months to make up his mind.

Georgia pushed her chair back. “I’m gonna... go grab the dessert.”

My brows shot up. “There’s dessert too?” Jesus. I knew Lane and I always ate a lot, but this was practically a pre-Thanksgiving feast.

I hoped my mom didn’t make a bunch of food, because I would not be able to fit a single bite in my stomach after leaving this house.

My mind aimlessly wandered, foot tapping against the floor as my dad started asking Nate more hockey questions. From my seat at the table, I had a perfect view of the kitchen, whereas my dad and Nate had their backs to it.

I couldn’t tell if Lane was actually putting more food on his plate or not. He was standing at the counter, shuffling around but not facing me.

Georgia murmured something to him with an alluring smile, swaying beside him with a dish in her hands. His mouth tugged upwards in response, shiny white teeth bright on display, his head tipped in the slightest.

Even from afar, I could see those dark blue eyes of his pulling her in like a sinking anchor in the middle of the sea.

He was flirting with her.

This was such a Lane move. The subtle flirting.

Was it kind of fucked up that I asked him to do this? Yeah. On so many levels, yeah.

But instead of stopping it, I leaned forward as much as the table in front of me would allow, watching intently as they interacted. God, I wished I could hear what they were saying.

Georgia grabbed candles out of a nearby drawer and began shoving them into the dessert, which I was assuming was a cake.

When the very last candle was hammered in, Georgia shot him what looked to be a wink, and just as I thought the exchange was done and over with, her hand swiftly smacked Lane’s ass, causing his entire body to become stiff like stone.

She grabbed the cake and before she could even turn around all the way, I was done for.

My rambunctious laughter was the only thing that could be heard throughout the room, along with my fist hitting the table. My body shook through the laughter, and although my eyes were closed, I was absolutely certain everyone in the room was staring at me.

I forced myself to stand, pushing away from the table. “I’m sorry,” I held my hand up, chortling. “I need a minute.” I cackled the whole way to the bathroom.

After spending the next five minutes attempting to muffle the sounds of my own laughter, I finally made it back to the table.

“Sorry,” I muttered, biting the inside of my cheek as I sat and scooted my chair back in. I could feel Lane’s eyes piercing through me, and as much as I wanted to catch a glance, I restricted myself. Because I knew damn well that I’d lose my shit again if I did.

“What’s your deal?” my dad grumbled at me.

“Nothing, nothing,” I waved him off, fending off laughter. “I’m ready for cake.”

After everyone sang Happy Birthday and started digging into their slice of homemade chocolate cake, I gestured to Lane and myself. “We’re gonna have to head out shortly.”

“Got plans with the boys?” Dad asked.

“Later, yeah, but we’re gonna stop at Mom’s for a while.”

Dad’s spine stiffened against his chair. His jaw hardened a little, such a subtle change that if I hadn’t been seeing it happen for the past decade of my life, I probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Ah,” he nodded. “How’s she?”

As if he cared.

“Good,” I answered, leaving it at that.

I should’ve just lied and said we were going straight to the hockey house. But I fucked up, thinking for whatever reason that my dad would’ve reacted like a goddamn adult instead of the bitter and childish man he was.

For fifteen minutes straight, he sat there and talked shit about my mom.

“Did I ever tell you about the time your mom said blah, blah, blah to me?”

“She never even brought you to your hockey practices. It was always me that did it.”

“You were probably too young to remember but one time, she cussed me out in front of a whole group of people for no reason.”

“I did everything for her, and she still had the audacity to cheat on me.”

He wouldn’t fucking stop. It was like I’d hit some sort of on button. I zoned out after the first minute, becoming numb. I should’ve said something, should’ve put him in his place, but this was all like déjà vu for me. I’d been dealing with it since I was a kid, and as a result, I still responded to it the same way now that I did then.

By saying nothing. By zoning out. By numbing it.

My anger flared, and I pushed myself back from the table so hard that my chair toppled over, slamming against the wooden floor. “We have to go.”

I didn’t even bother picking it up or hugging my family goodbye before I was storming out of the house. I peered over my shoulder just long enough to catch Lane carefully pushing my chair back into place and shaking my dad’s hand before jogging after me.

The autumn air was crisp and cold, washing out my lungs. I could feel the storm brewing inside me, chest heavy, and I stood beside my car for a moment, circling aimlessly around myself while trying to let the fall breeze calm me down.

“Hey, man,” Lane said. “You alright?”

“No,” I admitted.

Lane’s voice was smooth, almost angelic, honestly. “Don’t let him ruin your day. Let’s just stop by your mom’s really fast so that we can go celebrate you, okay?”

Lane had a way of soothing people with his presence like some sort of tranquility god. He put people at ease, whereas I usually did the opposite.

Resting my hands on my hips, I stared at the pavement, trying to regulate my breathing. The first breath came out shaky. The second one was drawn out, lingering throughout the autumn air the same way that orange and red leaves caught the breeze on their way to the ground.

By my last exhale, I felt a bit better, calmer.

Yeah, there was no way in hell I could’ve done this alone.

Lane and I made our way over to my mom’s, and the second we arrived, my sister was running out the door to greet us.

“Nick! Happy birthday!”

Kayla looked like she grew a foot compared to the last time I saw her.

Her toffee brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she was repping a Cedar U sweater with black leggings to match.

“Thanks,” I said.

Barefoot, Kayla bulldozed into me with the force of a linebacker. I grunted, taking a step backwards. I’d never really viewed my sister and me as being close, granted we didn’t talk much outside of the little time we spent together, but I was her only sibling, and I think that made her cling to me in a way she didn’t cling to anyone else.

It was a strange dynamic, considering that I was technically Nate’s only sibling too, but it seemed like the only thing he and I had in common was hockey. If we weren’t talking about hockey, then we usually weren’t talking at all. I wondered if that would change when he got older. The age gap between us was a lifetime apart, so maybe things would be different once we had more things to talk about.

When Kayla greeted Lane with a hug, it looked like pink cherry blossoms were swirling around in her cheeks. I’d always been convinced she had a crush on Lane ever since she was little.

Everyone was just obsessed with Lane, I guess.

I couldn’t even blame them. Lane was a fucking catch.

Unlike Georgia’s borderline creepy fascination with him that Lane could no longer deny, I think he always knew Kayla had a little crush on him. He never outright said it, but I think he thought it was sweet.

I made a mental note to make sure I teased him later for the ass slapping. I’d been so amped up on the car ride over that I didn’t get the chance to rub it in his face that for the first time ever, I was right.

Within five steps through the door, I saw my mom’s smile fall when her eyes met mine. She squeezed me tightly, muttering in my ear, “You look tense. Why do you seem tense?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Hands gripping my shoulders to keep me in place, she held me there, studying me. “You know I can read you like a book. You don’t seem fine. Lane, is he fine?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lane fibbed, “he’s fine.”

“Alright... Well, let’s eat!”

Fuck.

“Uh, Mom, did you make a lot of food? We just ate a lot at... Dad’s...” I trailed off as I witnessed the buffet set up in the kitchen.

Double fuck.

My mom told me the other day that my stepfather, Al, was away on a business trip. He was a regional sales manager for some auto parts company, and he had to travel to different shop locations in his region a few times a year to check in and do reports and shit.

Which meant all this food was just for us four.

Exchanging painful glances with Lane, we both gulped.

“Oh,” my mom’s voice turned sharp, “you already ate?”

“Yeah, I told you we were stopping at Dad’s.”

“Is that why you seem tense? Did your Dad say something to stress you out?”

Oh no. Here it comes.

Avoiding her heated gaze, I plodded passed her. “Mom, just—”

She cut me off, shaking her head and handing each person a plate. “I’m really tired of him ruining everything.”

You both ruin everything.

I didn’t even respond, too afraid to feed the fire.

Lane and I filled our plates, again , with as much food as our stomachs could handle after everything we just ate an hour ago. The silence as everyone took the table was peaceful, but it seemed as though I got too comfortable in it.

“Did your father say anything about me?” Mom asked.

Jaw tensing as I chewed, all I did was stare at the shiny mahogany tabletop in front of me.

Call it brother’s intuition or just another case of Lane being in tune with everyone else’s feelings, he picked up on my vibe. Trying to jump to the rescue, he kept his tone respectful and lush. “Dinner went just fine, Mrs. Lancaster. We weren’t there long.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer for her. She started going off in the same manner that my father did, rambling on for what seemed like an eternity.

“Your father is one of the most selfish people I’ve ever met.”

“He’ll never learn how to mind his own business.”

“I feel bad for his new wife for having to deal with all his bullshit.”

“Ever since we got divorced, your dad has never been able to keep my name out of his damn mouth.”

This was my life. Time and time again.

Every family gathering. Every holiday. Every birthday. It all turned into a hate fest.

I was a firm believer that everyone should feel special and appreciated on their birthday, but truthfully, I couldn’t remember the last time that happened for me. Every birthday that I could remember was never really about me at all. They always made it about themselves.

For the first few birthdays after their divorce, they tried to co-parent and have joint parties for me. All our guests would awkwardly scramble out because my parents would end up screaming at each other by the end of it.

Once I was able to drive, I started splitting up my birthday between them, but that just slowly led us to where we were now.

After suffering through the rest of dinner and practically vacuuming up my food to be done faster, Lane and I sped out of the house.

Within minutes of leaving, both of my parents were texting me, complaining. Then apologizing. Then wishing me a happy birthday. And then going back to complaining. Then apologizing. Then telling me they loved me.

It was just a vicious cycle.

And the texts didn’t stop until far into the next morning.