Chapter 11

11

Nick

I’m watching the hockey game on the TV at the foot of my bed. The last few days I’ve been researching Joey’s games on YouTube and shit. Getting a good feel for how he plays, the way he thinks out there, and learning some of the game rules. Sort of. They’re weird.

I’ve watched so many clips of his games that as I’m watching this one, I can tell he’s having a shit night. He’s frustrated and maybe distracted. The team as a whole looks great, though. They’ve gotten a few goals and not too many fights have broken out.

They do that thing where the guys switch out in the middle of whatever is happening on the ice and Number Twenty-Two, a big fucker, is hit hard by someone on the other team. He falls awkwardly onto someone behind him and doesn’t get up. Another Darby U player skates over and offers him a hand up.

The announcers say something about a possible injury, the whistles blow on the ice, and what looks like medics and the coach hurry out.

We get a commercial break and I’m bouncing my knee as I check the roster on the team’s website. Preston Carmichael. That’s the guy I found at Debbi’s with the redhead and hat guy. What the hell were their names? Peter and Brian?

I chuckle when Family Guy pops into my head. Definitely not Peter and Brian. Patrick? Parker? Phillip? I think the P name was hat guy. Redhead started with a B. Brant? Blake? Braxton?

It doesn’t matter.

The announcers tell us that Carmichael was taken for a shoulder injury and the game continues. Shit. That’s going to stress out Joey.

I open up my texts and send a message, even though he hasn’t looked at the previous ones.

NICK:

Hey, I’m watching the game. I know you’re stressed. Take a deep breath. Call me if you want to talk about it.

I hit send without thinking about it too hard. I want him to call so fucking badly it aches. I can’t even get updates about him via social media because he doesn’t post anything. Literally nothing. His last IG picture was from eight months ago. Eight.

I toss my phone on the bed and scrub my hands over my face. I have to go out and do something tonight or I’ll sit here and obsess over my damn phone.

Changing into jeans and pulling on shoes, I give myself a stern talk. I will watch the rest of the game, then go out and find something to do. Play pool or darts or something. It doesn’t matter.

My phone rings as I’m pulling my last shoe on and I scramble for it, answering it before I look to see who it is.

“Hello? Joey?”

“Who’s Joey?” My mom’s voice filters through the speaker and I wince. Shit.

“Hey, Mom. What’s going on? Did you get a new kid? How’s Alice, she still having trouble in school?” Please let her get distracted and move on…

“Nice try, Nicholas.”

I sigh heavily and close my eyes. “It’s just…some guy I’m trying to be friends with.” I shrug even though I know she can’t see it.

“Friends or friends?”

“Nope. I’m not talking to you about this.” I shudder at the very idea of telling her I want to hook up with Joey. I love my mom and I know I can talk to her about anything, but no thanks.

She laughs and it comforts my heart. I miss her warm hugs and gingerbread cookies. It’s not Christmas until she makes saffron bread for Saint Lucia’s Day on the thirteenth. It doesn’t matter that we aren’t religious. She started baking it because of a second-grade school project I had and just never stopped. I’ve missed it every year since I went away to school.

“We haven’t talked in a while so I’m just calling to check in on my kid now that football isn’t keeping you busy.”

I flop back on my bed with a sigh. “I’m okay. I’m going out tonight and hanging out with some people.”

“That sounds legitimate and not at all made up,” she scoffs and I laugh.

“No, really, I’m going out tonight. I just don’t know where or who with. I made the decision about two minutes ago.”

The conversation drops off into silence as I get wrapped up in my thoughts of Joey again. How much I miss being around him, his smile, the smell of his skin when he’s fallen asleep against me…

“Nicky?” Mom says my nickname that I haven’t heard in too long.

“Yeah?”

“I think you should come home on your next break. Something is going on with you and I think you need to ground yourself.”

I know she means well and she’s probably right, but my gut says no. I don’t want to be that far from Joey. What if he needs me and I’m not there?

How did I let him get so far under my skin? Why am I so obsessed with him?

“I’ll see if I can. I can’t promise anything.”

“Okay, baby, let me know, okay? I’m worried about you.”

I smile a sad, one-sided smile. “I know, Momma. I love you.”

My parents are amazing. I know I’m lucky to have them. I’ve seen firsthand what happens to the kids whose parents weren’t around or abused them. How the system designed to help them has actually forgotten them or doesn’t care. My parents cared and did everything they could for the kids’ lives they touched. A lot of them keep in touch after leaving, whether they went back home, got moved to another house, or aged out.

But maybe they meant more because they were broken and I wasn’t.

“I love you too.”

I end the call and open my message thread with Joey but he hasn’t opened it. Not surprising. I think the game is still going on. With nothing in mind, I slip down the stairs, shove my hands in my pockets, and wander around. I’m not hungry so I don’t go to the pizza place. Not feeling social, I skip past Rocky’s. It’s cold, though, and I want to go inside, so I end up in a coffee shop on campus.

It smells like coffee beans and something sweet, maybe cookies? It’s hard to tell over the overwhelming coffee scent. A girl in a black apron and a high ponytail smiles at me as I walk toward the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Roasted Mountains. What can I get started for you?”

Her apron has Carly stitched onto it.

“Roasted Mountains is a horrible dad joke.” I smile at her, knowing she probably hears it multiple times a day.

She chuckles and nods. “You aren’t wrong.”

“I don’t really drink coffee…I’m more of an energy drink kind of person.” I look up at the chalkboard menu and none of this shit makes sense. Americano, flat white, latte, cappuccino? What’s the difference?

“So you came to a coffee shop, why?” The smile on her lips is flirty and while a part of me wants to flirt back because flirting is fun, I don’t have the energy for it.

I shrug and lean against the counter. “Just needed somewhere to go.”

Her smile falls to contemplative and she cocks her head while she studies me. “I have an idea. Any food limitations?”

I shake my head.

“Have a seat, I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

There’s a few people taking up the booths and bartop stools, so I head to a corner where there’s a couch and some armchairs. One is facing the big floor-to-ceiling windows, so I take that one and scooch down until the back of my head is against the cushion. I don’t want to stare at my phone, obsessing over Joey not looking at the messages, or watch the game.

There’s a light dusting of snow outside and now that everyone has taken down the Christmas decorations, it’s just depressing. Something about the twinkling lights brings a sense of magic. I guess it’s one more tally against me today.

Carly pops up next to me with a tray. “Spiced hot chocolate with one shot of espresso and a warm chocolate chip cookie.” I take the short wide mug from her and the matching white plate.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles and goes back behind the counter. I have to admit it smells amazing, sweet, and comforting. The whipped cream is melting into the hot drink and when I take a sip, the cinnamon and cloves make me groan. There’s more in it that I can’t pick out but it’s perfect. The espresso cutting the sweet just enough that it isn’t overpowering and is rounding out the flavors.

I turn in my seat to see Carly watching me.

“You’re a coffee witch!” I raise my mug at her and she laughs. “This is amazing.”

She exaggerates a bow. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Sitting up in the seat, I look around and find a small table to put my drink on while I eat my cookie, but of course my damn phone rings.

With a huff, I pull it from my pocket and groan at Brent’s stupid face.

“What?”

“Nice to talk to you too, ass.”

I sigh and wait. I know Mom called him. He’s the only one who could talk me down when the urge to fight kicked in. It didn’t always work, but he had a better chance than anyone else, especially since he knew the root cause of my issues.

I was in love with a girl I couldn’t save.

“Mom called,” he says, not beating around the bush. I appreciate that about him.

“Figured as much.” I shove a piece of my warm cookie into my mouth. “I’m fine.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffs but doesn’t push. Not yet.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m just in a bad mood. I’m allowed to be.”

“So you aren’t treading water in the deep end of the feelings pool over this hockey player walking away?”

I grit my teeth. “Fuck off.”

“Good. Just so we’re clear, you caught feelings like it was mono at an eighth-grade sleepover playing spin the bottle, and now that you can’t play with your favorite toy, you’re sulking.”

“For fuck’s sake, Brent. Stop.” I really don’t want to picture thirteen-year-olds making out.

He sighs and his tone is softer when he talks again. “It’s okay to have feelings for this guy.”

“You’re really stuck on the feelings, aren’t you?” My gut tightens and tears knot in my throat. “He’s not interested.”

The line goes silent for so long I pull it from my ear to check and see if the call dropped.

“Can you hear me?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah. That’s not the impression I got from him basically living in your room over break.” I can picture the confused expression on his face. While I’m my parents’ only biological child, this guy is my brother through and through. He knows everything about me, my ride or die.

I look around the coffee shop and there’s too many people in here for me to be comfortable having this conversation here.

“I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Fine, but I expect you to talk to me. Today.”

I huff but agree. It’ll probably be good for me to talk to someone but my instincts tell me to bury it. Feelings are dangerous.

“Look, I’m out right now. I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t want to do this right now. Or ever. I want Joey back and for him to promise he won’t ever leave me again. Right now, I feel like I’m drowning in anger. Or loneliness. Hopelessness. Feelings make you weak and I can’t be weak again. Never again.