Chapter 8

eight

KARMA REALLY IS A CAT

T his feels stupid.

No, correction, this is stupid.

My head hasn’t stopped spinning since last night. As if realizing I have a crush on someone else isn’t enough reason to cancel a date, everything that happened afterwards sure would be.

I tried to text Jeremy and cancel, but he made it such a big deal. As if I don’t have a friend in the hospital right now. As if I don’t feel partially responsible for what happened that caused her to be in the hospital.

No one has been able to see Torryn except for Baylor and her family, but they said we would probably be able to today. Except, I’m here. At a restaurant I don’t want to be at, with a guy I have no interest in. With a guy who took my concern over my friend personally. As if it was a direct rejection of him.

How did I let myself end up in this position?

Jeremy grabs my hand from across the table and goosebumps rise along the skin on my arm. “Aren’t you glad we came?”

No .

I should be with all the others, at the hospital, waiting to see with my own eyes that Torryn is okay after her run in with her stalker. I give him a tight smile and take another bite of food, chewing slowly to avoid answering. Not like he needs one anyways. He smiles and nods as if I praised him for guilting me into this sad excuse of a date.

“I knew we would have a great time together if you were willing to just get out of the house.”

I leave my house plenty often, thank you very much. How long do I reasonably have to stay here before I can take off? The twenty minutes we’ve been together already feels too long.

In a desperate attempt to make this date go by faster, I try to spark any type of conversation that isn’t about how good we are together. “What do you like to do for fun?”

Kind of lame question, but anything is better than sitting here in silence.

The look he gives me is somehow condescending and amused all at the same time. “Becca said you were inexperienced.” Have no idea what that has to do with anything. “It’s cute.” Creepy. “I do what everyone else likes to do for fun,” he says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Drink, smoke a little,” he continues, squeezing my hand tighter, “spend time with a pretty girl.”

It’s official. I need one of those vomit bags they give you on airplanes. I hum along with his words, doing my best to feign interest, but I doubt he’d notice even if my eyes rolled into the back of my head out of pure boredom.

Without any further prompting, he begins to tell me more about himself. My only reprieve is that I’m able to pull my hand away from his under the guise of eating. Not that very much of the salad he insisted on ordering for me makes it into my mouth.

No hate to the salad. Any other other day it would be appealing, but not even a hot fudge sundae would be enough to arouse my appetite under these circumstances.

The date goes on for far longer than it should. Or at least it feels like a year has passed when Jeremy clears his throat before telling me to think about what I want for dessert. The only answer I can come up with is a lobotomy, but I don’t think he’ll appreciate that answer so I bite my tongue. He winks as he gets up from the table and I don’t manage to suppress the full body shudder. Based on the smirk he gives me, he seems to take it as a good thing.

I might be new to dating and a bit naive, but at least I’m not a complete and utter idiot whose ego is bigger than his common sense. I can gain experience, but you can’t fix that kind of stupid.

I take my first real breath as he turns his back on me. The second he’s far enough away, I pull out my phone and start furiously texting Becca. I gave it a shot and this has been nothing more than a horror show and waste of my time. If I can get out of here, I’ll still be able to make it to the hospital to visit Torryn during visiting hours.

My heart stops in my chest when I feel someone brush against my arm. Surprise that Jeremy is back already, panic that he may have seen my texts to Becca, disgust that he’s touching me yet again. My phone crashes into the barely-eaten salad in front of me. My hand flies to my chest as if I can hold my heart inside of my chest. Relief floods me when I catch sight of Xander’s satisfied smirk, followed quickly by annoyance.

“Xander! What are you doing here?”

I don’t even have time to reprimand him before he’s defending himself–if you can even call it that with how arrogant he’s being .

“Can you really call it crashing your date when you’re so obviously in need of a rescue?”

If I could punch him, I would.

Probably.

My stomach tightens as I take in the sight of him and panic is quick to come rushing back. I dart my eyes towards the bathroom but still no sign of Jeremy. Xander nudges me, drawing my attention back to him where he’s staring at me with a brow raised in challenge.

I huff in defeat. “How much did you see?”

His smirk morphs into a grin, one that almost makes him seem boyish with his dimple popping through his scruff. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know what a turd he can be. “Enough to know stabbing your own eyes out with that fork sounds more appealing than continuing this date with that jackass.”

Why isn’t he wrong?

“You want my help to get rid of the pest?”

Yes. But this is Xander we’re talking about. I study him, trying to figure out what his game plan is. There’s no way he came over here without one. One probably already set in motion, regardless of the next words out of my mouth.

I sigh, but even he knows it’s purely for show. I’ve never been happier to see his stupid face.

“You actually have to talk to me in order to help me.” Ha! I can get my own shots in too. By the way he flinches, it was a good one.

His hands run through his hair as he refuses to meet my eyes. “I wasn’t trying to not talk to you…” he trails off without further explanation.

I arch a brow, not saying anything and waiting him out.

He scoffs, his eyes darting up to where Jeremy is heading back our way. “Can we talk about it later? I’m trying to be your knight in shining armor here.”

His words send those damn butterflies exploding in my stomach again, and this time it’s me dropping my eyes from his so he can’t see the blush covering my cheeks.

The moment Jeremy notices the newest addition to our table, his steps falter and his smirk falls. Xander, on the other hand, sits up straighter. His excitement over the coming confrontation radiates off him in a way that makes it hard to keep my expression neutral. Before Jeremy has a chance to question who he is or why he’s here, or even have a chance to sit down, Xander is getting up, pulling me with him.

“We were just waiting to say bye to you,” he explains as if he’d been on this date all along. His arm falls over my shoulders protectively as he pulls me closer into his side, no part of me finding the will to be able to resist. Even as my face turns scarlett at the indignant look on Jeremy’s face.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demands, but his eyes shift in my direction and the anger I find there makes me cower for a second.

“We’re leaving,” Xander talks over him, not even pretending to respond to his question. His body is tense against mine and I know he didn’t miss the look Jeremy gave me that seemed to promise consequences.

“We were on a date,” Jeremy spits, somehow those five little words coated in more vitriol than I thought possible.

Xander smirks, turning me away from Jeremy and putting his body in between the two of us. “And now you’re not.” He doesn’t wait for another response, guiding me towards the door only pausing to look back over his shoulder to say, “And don’t worry about the bill, I already took care of it.” His tone condescending as he lets disgust and a dare fill his expression. An open taunt for Jeremy to do anything but let us walk away.

Of course, he doesn’t, staying silent and seething as Xander escorts me away from the table and I know it won’t be the last time I hear from this guy. But it seems like a problem for another day. At least I have my freedom for today.

Xander pauses only at the hostess stand to pick up two large to-go bags filled with more food than he could possibly consume alone and I arch a brow as he juggles both bags and still manages to hold the door open for me.

I arch a brow. “Holding doors, paying for bills, you may just be a knight yet.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t forget saving you from dragons.”

It’s my turn to scoff and shake my head in disbelief. “He’s not a dragon,” I argue, making Xander give me a skeptical look that he can’t believe I’m defending that guy. “He’s more like an overgrown toad who doesn’t know how to keep his clammy little hands to himself.”

Xander’s laugh warms me, easing some of the anxiety that has been tearing through me the last few days. After months of a natural ease between us and a shift in our relationship after hanging out without my brothers so often, I didn’t realize how much I had taken that for granted. Or how truly scared I was that we were going to lose that.

“Bet he didn’t want to keep his tongue to himself either,” he mutters as he opens the passenger door for me.

I smack him in the chest. “Ew,” I shout, scrunching my nose in disgust as a mental image of Jeremy with a toad tongue pops into my head unbidden. I close the door in Xander’s face, cursing him silently for the mental assault his words caused.

He’s still laughing when he climbs into his seat. “Come on, brat. We’ve still gotta pick up the cats.”

“The cats? I thought we were going to the hospital.”

He nods, pulling out the parking lot and turning back towards campus–the opposite direction of the hospital. “We need the cats first. Isla thinks they’ll make Tor feel better.”

The thought brings a smile to my face. As tough as Torryn is, she absolutely melts for those two kittens. “Not a bad idea.”

Silence grows between as I can’t think of anything else to say, my mind running on overdrive as I stare out the window and desperately try to figure out a way to hold onto this natural comfort between us that used to come so easily but feels more tenuous with each passing moment.

“What’s on your mind, Em?” Xander asks, his voice softer, his hands curling tightly around the steering wheel in a way they weren’t only minutes ago.

I clear my throat, trying to figure out how to answer. I want to ask about our near kiss. About how he sees me. If maybe I could be more than Tate’s little sister in his eyes. But I know when I’m being delusional. Saw the regret in his eyes when he looked at me the next day.

I may never stand a chance with this man who suddenly does feel like he could be my knight, but I don’t want to lose him completely either. I push away all the butterflies and thoughts of more, focusing on the one thing I might actually be able to hold onto. The friendship I thought we’d been building outside of my family.

“Are we friends, Xander?” Hurt and insecurity bleeds into the words and my eyes snap back towards the window, unable to face him as the vulnerable question spills out of me.

“Of course,” he responds too quickly.

“No,” I interrupt. “Outside of my family. Without Tate around. As just me, are we friends? I thought maybe with all the games we’ve been to together,” I trail off, not even knowing how to continue that sentence. I thought what?

My eyes drop to my lap and I fiddle with the ring I never leave home without, the ring my mom gave me for the last birthday she spent with us. Maybe I am kidding myself. “I thought maybe it was more than you doing Tate a favor.” That maybe you liked me enough to enjoy hanging out with me too. But my embarrassment keeps me from saying those last words aloud. Too scared he may laugh them off. I wouldn’t be able to ever look him in the eyes again after a rejection like that.

We stop outside the hockey house and I recognize it without ever having been here before. Something about it feeling familiar. Maybe it’s the small touches where I can see Isla’s influence bleeding into the front yard like the small yellow flower painted next to the address on the curb.

Warmth engulfs my hand, fire spreading up my arm and simmering low in my belly as Xander grabs my hand and pulls it away from my lap and into his. His grip tight as he tries to draw my attention to him, but I can’t. I won’t survive the look of pity on his face.

“Em,” he begs, and it doesn’t sound like sympathy, but almost like desperation. Is there a word stronger than delusional? It may apply here.

“I’ve always cared about you,” he starts, putting the first crack in the heart I never thought he would have the power to even bruise. “From the first time I met you when I was barely a kid and held your little toddler fingers in mine. I’ve always known you were special. To Tate, to your family, and to me too.”

My leg begins to shake and I have the most unreasonable urge to run. To burst free from the building tension and pretend this conversation never happened. We’ve done it once before, right? What’s one more awkward–yet totally forgettable–moment between not-friends? I attempt to pull my hand free, but all he does is tighten his grip, bringing his free hand down to cover both our hands. “But you’re right, we haven’t always been friends. ”

I give up trying to tug my hand free, defeat washing over me and I can feel my ears burn. Hopefully, my hair is at least covering some of the flush.

“But that doesn’t mean things don’t change,” he says, a note of pleading in his voice. But what he’s pleading for, I couldn’t even begin to guess.

Xander’s thumb runs over the back of my hand and something about that small little gesture is enough to break through my stubborn refusal to meet his eyes. A smile breaks the worried expression on the hard planes of his face the second my eyes catch on his. It’s impossible to not follow, and my own lips twitch as I try to keep the urge buried. Still waiting for a full answer.

“So I meant it when I said of course,” he continues. “Because how could I have stayed clueless to how much you’ve grown and changed in the years I was gone, Em? How could I not enjoy your humor and wit or the way you use it to rile your brothers up in a way no one else can manage? To rile me up and make me laugh and fill me with anticipation over what is going to come out your mouth next. So of course we’re friends.” He laughs, keeping one hand tightly holding onto mine as his other traces down my cheek until he catches a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “Or at least I really hope we are, or I’ll just be the loser who felt a flicker of disappointment when I found out I would be back on the ice in only a few short weeks because I knew it also meant I’d be giving up sitting next to you in the stands.”

My heart does more than skip a beat in my chest, it nearly gives out, as his admission twists and turns every single one of my insides. Hockey has and will always be the most important thing to men like my brothers and Xander and yet…he thought about me when he was getting the biggest news of his career .

I smirk, trying to hide just what his words are doing to me. “You gonna miss me?”

He flicks my ear. “Fuck knows why, and I definitely shouldn’t admit it, but yeah, Emery.” His tone shifts, getting softer–almost reverent–as he says my name and time seems to stop. “I’m going to miss the time we get to spend with just the two of us.”

The vulnerability in his words makes me ask the question I didn’t think I had the courage to put out in the universe. The question that made me feel like a petulant and needy child. The exact opposite of the way I want Xander to be looking at me. I keep my eyes locked with his, prepared to search for any lie in any answer he may give. “Then why did you ignore me yesterday?”

His hand squeezes around mine, pain and regret lining his face and I doubt he even realizes he did it. “Because I was embarrassed,” Xander admits, his eyes downcast as he looks away from me. “I never should have put you in the position I did. Never should have crossed that line, no matter how much I was drinking.” He swallows thickly and meets my eyes. “You are very special to me, Emery. In your own way regardless of your brother, and I almost ruined all of that.”

I want to push. Want to ask the question from the kitchen one more time. Lean in and feel his breath against my skin once more. Find out once and for all if Xander has thought about kissing me every moment of every day since he trapped me against the counter in my bathroom the way I have. But I don’t. Because Xander is right. Words I never thought I would be forced to utter–or even think. Then again, I never could have imagined having a crush on this man at my side either. It’s better to leave those few moments lost in the past. Only to be revisited in my mind in the safety of my room with no one around .

“Ignoring me will ruin it anyway,” I point out, trying to keep the rest of my thoughts to myself. I put a smile on my face and I know it’s tight, but I push through it. “Can we agree to be friends now and forget everything else?” I offer my white flag. No more bringing up that almost moment. No more questions to push for more. “No more dwelling on mistakes but no more putting distance between us that has never been there before either.”

Xander’s smile falters before a grin spreads, making me doubt that flicker of unknown emotion was ever there. “Friends,” he agrees, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand before he pulls away. He laughs, turning to the door and finally getting out. I take a breath before I open my own door and start up the walkway towards the front door.

I trip over my step when Xander bumps my shoulder with his as he moves past me, a different aura about him now that we’re no longer trapped in whatever that was. He smirks at me over his shoulder. “As your friend, you need to get better taste in men.”

I scoff, shoving him in the middle of the back, making him laugh all the harder as he opens the front door. “You’re so rude,” I lament, walking into the house. If I was worried about being able to find the kittens, the notion is dispelled rather quickly.

Torryn’s orange and white cat comes running through the house, meowing in a way that sounds less like a cat and more like a banshee. His lithe body wraps between my steps, rubbing against my calves as he screams his song of disapproval at being left alone all night.

I bend over and pick him up, cuddling him against my chest. “I know, little Potato. We’ll take you to your momma.”

Xander rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath but I ignore him. Snuggling with this lovable little squishy is much more appealing. His cries begin to quiet the more I murmur and pet him behind his ears.

Baylor’s black cat is slower–and quieter–with her appearance, slinking around the corner as she stares us down, judging us in the way only cats can. “Perfect,” Xander says, walking over to her. “I’ll grab her and then we can get to the hospital.”

How we’re sneaking cats into the hospital is probably something I should be asking, but it seems like a problem for the future us to figure out. If it’ll make Torryn feel better, I’d smuggle just about anything in for her.

Xander attempts to scoop up the kitten the same way I grabbed Potato, except he didn’t account for her fiery personality. She lets him get close enough to be within claws’ reach before hissing at a volume that shouldn’t be possible. Her hair stands on end before she launches herself at Xander’s outstretched arm, scratching long gashes into both sides of his forearm and sinking her sharp little teeth into his thumb.

He jumps back, cursing and gripping his arm and cradling it against his chest as small drops of blood begin to bloom on his skin.

I can’t help myself, my laughter spilling past my lips with no attempt to hold them back. He gives me a dirty look and I grin wider.

“I guess Karma really is a cat,” I taunt.

He flips me off. “Brat.”