Chapter Three

"W hy were you standing outside with Clayton James?" Peyton teases as soon as I get in the car.

"He wanted to be sure I was picked up safely," I mumble, looking at him in the rearview mirror as we drive away.

I won't lie. That whole interaction has me shook. I've never been called out like that before. He was completely right, though. I unfairly judged him based on my own past interactions with hockey players along with the rumors that he sleeps around. Truth is, all of those rumors are usually spread by the woman he supposedly slept with, from what I can tell.

Could they be lying to make themselves seem more popular? Considering the things I've seen girls do in order to get clout, it is very likely.

If that's the case, then why doesn't he go for that? Isn't that every man's dream?

"You're lost in thought. Did he hurt you? I'll kill him, you know. Shank him right in the left ball sack."

I shake my head, laughing. "Sorry. He didn't hurt me. He just made a statement that has stuck with me."

"What did he say?"

I tap my lip as she pulls into the parking lot. "He said he doesn't let the opinions of those who he doesn't care about dictate how he feels. That's such a powerful statement."

"Especially coming from someone who should care about their reputation if he wants to go pro. Do you believe him?"

I shrug. "I don't know, but I want to. Imagine how much easier life would be if we stopped caring what others thought."

"It's easier said than done." She snorts.

"True, but I think I want to try it. I'm going to stop letting the thoughts and actions of others dictate how I feel."

She reaches over, grabbing my hand. "Kellan ditched you, didn't he?"

I frown. That familiar pang is back in my chest.

"As soon as we walked through the door, he saw the guys taking shots. He told me he would be right back, but we both knew that wasn't going to happen. I tried to find somewhere quiet to read, but that's when Clayton found me."

"What happened?"

"He wanted to walk me home."

"And you asked me to come get you instead? Wow, you really are immune to hot guys."

"What sense would it make to let him walk me home when he is a stranger?"

"Stranger? He's plastered all over campus. Trust me, he's no stranger."

I smile a little. "That was a point he made. Have you ever even talked to him?"

She thinks about it for a moment. "I thanked him for opening a door for me once."

I nod. "You don't know him. Neither do I. Just because he's a face on the television or all over campus doesn't mean I should trust him to walk me home. We have all heard the stories of girls getting attacked on campuses across the country. I won't be another statistic."

She shakes her head. "You make a good point. You ruined my fantasy, but the point is valid. Now, can we go inside? Angela is probably freaking out that we are taking so long. She didn't want to let me borrow her car, but when I pointed out that she's the RA and currently drunk, that it was her responsibility to allow me to rescue you."

I shake my head. "Poor Angela."

"Poor Angela, my ass. She had one of those football players in her room with her. Trust me, girl is having a better time than us. Or at least she was."

We get out of the car, heading up to the door. I wait as Peyton unlocks the front door before following her inside. We walk down the hall and I wait with her as Angela answers her dorm room door, looking a bit stressed. When a male voice calls her back, she gives us a small smile before closing the door.

All seems well, then.

It's not until later that I'm laying in my bed staring at the ceiling while Peyton lightly snores from her bed that I realize that my mind is still on Clayton about the words he said.

I may never speak to the man again, yet he changed my life. He might never get to know that. Then again, maybe he will.

I glance down at my phone for the eighth time. I never texted Kellan to tell him I was leaving the party. Disappointment hits me hard when I see that he hasn't even checked on me once.

He probably doesn't even know that I'm gone.

I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms as my nose starts to tingle.

He's my only connection to the hockey team, so if I continue to hang out with him, maybe I will get to see Clayton again. Tell him how sorry I am for making assumptions.

Yet I need Kellan to actually text me for that to happen. I wonder what would happen if I just stopped reaching out to him? It's always me texting him first. Would he even notice?

I sigh, my eyes pricking with tears.

I really do want to give what Clayton said a try. I want to not care what others think. With strangers, I might be able to do that. The problem is the person I want to break free from is the boy I once loved. The one who I still worry that I am in love with. The one who held my hand when things were hard. Who hugged me when I cried. The same boy who beat up Peter Delvin for kissing me without my permission in the tenth grade. Or who broke Tommy Anderson's hand when he copped a feel on our first date.

That boy is the one I love, but the man Kellan is becoming is someone I'm not sure I want to be around anymore. I want him to have his career. Of course, I know he has priorities with it, but he always made sure to make time for me even when he had a girlfriend, no matter how much they hated it.

Now he makes me feel like an afterthought and just doesn't make time for me anymore.

I let the first tear fall and don't bother wiping it away as my chin trembles.

It might take time, but I'm going to follow Clayton James's advice. I'm going to start living my life for myself.

"You're failing business marketing."

I stare at Coach, dumbfounded. What does he mean I'm failing?

"We are only three weeks into the semester. How can I be failing?"

"You took your first test Thursday. Results were not good. Are you not studying?"

Coach Miller is the kind of coach most guys want. He can be tough and expects greatness, but he often tries to let us make our own choices. I miss my old coach. Coach Brennan often played more of a father role with me. He would be reaming my ass right now for failing. I would rather that than the look of disappointment on Coach Miller's face right now.

"I am. I thought I had it." I shake my head, resting it in my hands.

I hear Coach sigh. "Is it you just don't get the material then?"

I look back up to him. "It has to be. I studied my ass off. School is important to me. I know hockey won't last forever."

He nods once. "Okay, then. Here's what we are going to do. Miss Maybel works in the library. She sets up tutoring. I want you to go there now and get set up with a tutor. I want you to work with that tutor for the rest of the year. I spoke with Mr. Trammel. He said you can retake this test next week, and if you can get at least a C, he will throw the first test out."

"Practice starts in ten minutes, Coach."

He nods. "You won't be in it. You can't play if you have a failing grade. You know the rules. Not only do you have to maintain the GPA, but you can't be failing any classes. So go on and get it all set up, and maybe you can make it back in time for practice."

I frown. "Am I going to lose my captaincy over this? The guys won't want to follow me if they realize I've fucked up."

He gives me an odd look. "We are all human, Clayton. They will still follow you, but that doesn't matter. This is a personal matter, which is what I will be telling them when they ask where you are. It is up to you if you want them to know why you had to miss practice."

I let out a relieved breath. Most of the guys probably won't care, but the ones that will are the ones who will make it an issue. We don't need that this season. We need to unite as a team.

"Thanks Coach."

He nods, waving me away.

As I head toward the front of the building, I run into Brett. He's a junior like me. He had the opportunity to declare for the draft last summer, but he told me that he liked playing at the college level. He's not ready to give it up yet. I commend it, but I don't think I could make the same choice. I'm desperate to get my first real pro check. I want to use it to pay off Mom's house and pay for Cora's college. I would have gone last summer had they thought I would have gone high. I'm good, but there were many who were better. Coach encouraged me to hang in a little longer. Get the experience and captaincy under my belt, and it'll increase my worth to them.

So I did.

"Where are you going? Rink's that way." Brett nods his head toward the locker room.

"I have something I need to do. Keep the men in line for me today."

He pats my shoulder. "You got it, Cap."

Then I hightail it out of there. I don't want to run into anyone else.

The jog to the library only takes about fifteen minutes. Not bad considering it is clear on the other side of campus from the rink. Wiping my face, I head inside. The first thing I notice is how eerily silent it is. It's unnerving.

Going up to the counter, I smile at the woman. "I need to…"

"Shhhh," a bunch of people echo around me.

I clear my throat, whispering, "I'm here to see Maybel. Coach sent me."

The woman smiles. "Maybel will be in her office. Up the stairs, straight back, and to the right. You won't miss it."

"Thank you." I look down at her nametag. "Rachel."

She gives me a flirty smile, but I ignore it, heading in the direction she pointed me.

The office isn't hard to find at all. Within minutes, I'm standing outside the closed door, my hands sweating.

I hate that I need help, but for hockey, I would do anything.

So I knock.

"Come in," a feminine voice calls out.

Opening the door, I find a gray-haired woman at a desk behind a computer. She looks up as I enter, giving me a warm smile. She reminds me of my grandmother, Rose, before she passed. It makes me feel at ease with her instantly.

"How can I help you, son?" she asks.

"Coach sent me. I'm Clayton James. I'm struggling with marketing. He said that you could help me find a tutor."

"Of course. Have a seat. Let's fill out some forms." She hands me a packet of paperwork and a pen. "Fill that out."

I do as she asks, trying to rush through it. I'm itching to check the time, but I don't. I stay here with this woman, who holds the fate of my career in her hands.

She looks over the paperwork for a moment before turning to the computer. She does this several times before she smiles.

"I have one tutor who would work. She excels at these types of classes. Now, I do have to warn you, she is a freshman, but she earned dual credits at her high school for taking college- level courses. Specifically, she has already passed the course of marketing you need assistance in. Is that going to be an issue?"

I laugh. "Not at all. I'm not surprised a freshman is smarter than me at this. I obviously don't understand it."

"Good. I'm glad you have an open mind. This student has a bright mind. I think she will have you caught up in no time. She has immediate openings too, so I will give her your information and have her email you to set up your first appointment. She knows how to reserve rooms and such for your sessions."

"Thank you, Miss Maybel."

She smiles. "You are most welcome, Mr. James. Ms. Myers will be in touch shortly."

I leave her office, ignoring the sultry smile Rachel gives me as I walk by the main desk. Then I'm back to my job.

When I finally make it to the locker room, I am feeling much better.

Especially when I open my phone and see a new email.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Tutoring

Hey, Mr. James,

Maybel advised you are needing some immediate tutoring for marketing. I have availability to meet tonight at six if you will be available. If not, I have time tomorrow as well. Let me know.

Thank you,

Grace

Typing out a quick response, I smile. Things are going to be okay.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Tutoring

Grace,

Thank you. Six will work.

Clayton