23. Van

23

Van

" L et me walk you back, okay?" I ask as Josie stands and puts on her coat. I'm not ready to leave her just yet, and I'm also not ready to think about why I'm so attached to her.

"I'm fine," she insists. "And the guys?—"

I'm shaking my head. "The guys can wait another ten minutes. Believe it or not, Jos, even I know some things are more important than hockey."

She smiles up at me as we walk downstairs. "I'm not sure my brother Zane would agree. He's pretty obsessed right now."

That makes me happier than it should. "Can't lie. I love that he plays hockey. It's the best sport there is. He's what, a freshman? What position does he play? Do the other kids play, too?"

Josie answers my list of questions one by one. "He's a freshman, yes, and he's a goalie. No one else plays hockey. The twins are swimmers and Iris does ballet. Levi played soccer back in the day."

"How about you?" I ask. We've had some heavy conversation the past few nights, so this is a good distraction. "Let me guess… started playing soccer because your older brother did, but then you switched to…tennis?"

We step outside and start the familiar walk to her dorm. It's November now and the temperature is getting colder, but I'm unbothered by the chill tonight. "You have it half right," she tells me. "I did start soccer because that's what Levi was doing, but I hated it. And I never tried tennis. I went straight to reading."

He smirks. "Is reading a sport?"

"It is the way I do it," she teases. The walk to her place is quick and conversation stays neutral, safe. It's like we're both exhausted from the past forty-eight hours. We get to her building, and I automatically follow her in and up the stairs. I wish I could stay and hold her some more, maybe watch one of those shows she likes where they all wear fancy gowns and talk with British accents. But I'm not pushing my luck. Hell, the fact that Josie opened up as much as she did is a miracle and I'm taking it.

Besides, I need to get to the arena. Josie unlocks her door and looks back over her shoulder at me.

"Thanks for walking with me. And listening." Her eyes are still a little glassy, her neck and cheeks a little pink. We dug up the past and even though the worst of it happened even before I met her, she's still dealing with a lot. She grabs her phone, probably to text her brother, so I pull mine out to make a quick call. There's a team joke about me being an old man because I prefer phone calls to texts, and I always laugh it off and say I'm gifting them the sound of my voice. The truth is, talking is way easier than tapping on keys. I use voice commands any time I can, but right now, I'm calling in a favor and I breathe a sigh of relief when she answers.

"Van? What's up?" Mel's voice is wary, and I don't blame her. She and Franconetti called it quits last week, but they're both miserable. He's a moody fucker without her, and when I saw her at Drip yesterday, Mel looked just as unhappy.

We talk quickly and when I end the call, I can feel Josie's eyes on me.

"Mel's on her way," I say, pushing off the doorframe.

"You called her?"

"Yeah, I figured you could use someone to talk to. These past couple nights…it's been a lot, right?" My phone buzzes and lights up in my hand. No doubt it's one of the guys, getting impatient. I want to tell them they can survive a strategy session without me. I want to walk right back through this door and pull Josie into my arms. I want to call Mel and tell her to stay put. But that's not fair. They need each other right now so they can talk all about how two big dumb hockey players are idiots. "I should probably go, so?—"

"Right." Josie pastes on a smile. It's the practiced one she gives to people at the library, the same one she gave me when we first started tutoring. Fuck . I said something wrong, but there's no time for me to replay my words and figure out where I messed up. Josie's back to business as she practically shoves me out into the hallway.

"Thanks again for walking me back, Van. And have a safe trip tomorrow. Go Wolves!" She gives a little jazz hand as she cheers on our team and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Does she have any clue how adorable she is? Better question: does she know how adorable I think she is? She has to. I'm no good at hiding my feelings, especially when it comes to her.

But when Josie practically shuts the door in my face, I have my doubts. Either she really has moved on, or she has her reasons for keeping me at a distance.

The whole way to the athletic center, I try to puzzle it out, but I keep coming up blank. I throw on my gear, grateful for the distraction hockey provides. It's a simple game with a simple objective: get the puck in the other team's net more times than they get it in yours. Clear. Straightforward. Maybe that's why I love it so much.

I walk up to the boards and watch my team through the plexiglass. Yeah, I want to join them, but I also love watching them play. Deano's in my spot tonight, but he's having trouble keeping pace with Booker. Rosco's just back from an injury and he's still finding his groove. Will's suspended right now, which is a whole clusterfuck, especially since we're playing Woodcock. They nearly beat us last month, and I have no doubt that Wagner and Blue are on their own ice right now, getting ready to kick our asses on their home turf.

I watch them scrimmage, and it's clear that we're not where we need to be. Deano's missing passes, Rosco's being too cautious, and Mikalski's overskating. He needs to let the play develop instead of going into hyperdrive.

It's not all bad, though. Norris is a damn brick wall and Santos is on his game tonight. He's no match for Booker, though—no one is. We're a solid team and we can get the win. I just need to figure out how.

Rosco finally takes a shot, but Norris blocks it easily. The puck glides back into play, but Booker swipes it from Mikalski and tips it right in, ending this round. The guys skate to the bench for water and that's when they spot me.

"Finally!" Ollie crows. "Jesus, I thought maybe you were giving up hockey to follow Josie around and put books away."

I roll my eyes. Following Josie around sounds like a fun career path, but I'm sticking with hockey. It's literally the only thing I'm good at, the only real skill I have. Without it, I'm nothing. And if I even want to think about getting back with Josie, about trying to break down those walls she's built, I have to be the best version of myself. She deserves nothing less.