“Not for a couple weeks,” Whit says as Ty sets down a mug of black coffee and what appears to be a large cup filled almost entirely with whipped cream and caramel sauce.
“How about you, Ty? When does your internship start?”
“No offense, Book, but you kind of suck at wallowing. You’re not supposed to be asking us about our plans; you’re supposed to be lamenting your misfortune.”
“Yeah, that.” Whit agrees, slurping on his glorified milkshake. “Or at least tell us what Coach said.”
I shake my head. “No news there. He’s putting feelers out, trying to get a sense of who might pick up a rookie left wing. He’s also looking into scholarships. I don’t want to take anything from an incoming freshman, but he said there might be some money for senior players, or that I could get a loan if I needed to. And we need to start looking for a place that will house all of us.”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Ty advises. “We’re good until the end of next month, according to the lease, so we’ve got time to figure that out.”
I nod. None of this is ideal, but my friends have my back. And even though my future is uncertain, I’m not hiding anymore.I feel lighter, freer—which would be great—but Ian’s not here to share it with me.
Chapter 25
Ian
“Damn him.”I swear, tossing my keys on the counter instead of hanging them on the hook. Look at me being reckless. Damn. Him.
Damn him for being the sweetest fucking boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. For being good. And kind. And so goddamn patient it makes me crazy. Do I need a free eight hours? Hell fucking yes. But do I want it at the expense of Booker’s free time? No. He’s busy. Not so much with hockey being over, but still.
Besides, we are not together anymore, so he owes me no favors.
I sit at my desk for a solid twenty minutes, staring at the screen. I have a million things to be doing, and time to be doing them, but my mind is on Booker.
He looked good today. Really good, which is no surprise. He’s a beautiful man. But he also looked sad. He was smiling, sure, but that was bravado. He’s hurting, and fuck me if I didn’t want to comfort him, to wrap my arms around him, to kiss him.
But I don’t have the right to do any of that, not since I’m the one who hurt him.
Pushing back from my desk, I head into the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. That will help. Well, at least it’ll give me something to focus on for, oh, five minutes or so. I go through the motions, trying not to remember the sight of Booker leaning against my counter. I grab a mug from the cupboard, studiously avoiding the one with the dancing cow that sayslegend-dairynot because it’s Booker’s favorite, but because there’s a chip on the handle.
Settling back at my desk, plain mug in tow, I log in to the grading software with the intent of tackling a stack of tests. When my phone buzzes on the desk next to me, I snatch it up eagerly. Did Booker leave? Do they need my help after all? Oh, Christ, did he burn himself? Figuring out those steam wands is a bitch, and I have the scars on my hands to prove it.
But when I tap the screen open, there’s no coffee or ex-boyfriend emergency waiting for me. Instead, it’s my brothers. I accept the call and their smiling faces come into view.
“See, I told you he wasn’t working,” Luke says, smacking PJ on the arm.
“Sue me, he usually works on Saturdays.”
“I should be working,” I grumble.
“So, instead of working, you’re bitching that you don’t have to work?” Luke asks. “Dude, how are we related?”
“It’s not that. It’s…Booker’s working so I don’t have to.”
“When did he get a job at Drip?” Luke looks confused.
“About six o’clock this morning. And solely so I could have the day off to catch up on grading.”
“Got it,” PJ nods. “Instead of grading or sleeping or doing laundry, you’re bitching that your boyfriend did something really fucking sweet.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Luke and PJ exchange a look before Luke looks into the camera again. “Yeah, because you fucked it up.”
PJ shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”
I sigh. “You two are no help.”
