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 bothmiserable. 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 adorableIthink 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 simpleobjective: 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.
24
Josie
"Can we get ice cream, Josie?" Iris asks, holding my hand as we cross through the busy parking lot. It’s Sunday afternoon and Zane’s watching the twins, so Iris and I snuck out to run some errands. We’ve gotten haircuts, picked up her new ballet shoes, and dropped off Levi’s dry-cleaning. The next stop is home, but it seems my little sister wants a detour.
"Ice cream? Really?" I ask. "You told me you were so cold that you were going to turn into a snowflake. You even made me dig through the bins in the attic to find your winter hat and gloves. And now you want ice cream?"
"Uh-huh," she answers. "Because you warmed me all up. So now I can eat it."
I ruffle my fingers through her blonde curls. They look just like Mom’s. "You are a silly, silly girl, Iris Evelyn Reynolds."
"Do silly girls get ice cream?" she asks, smiling and showing off a missing tooth.
"Hmmm…" I answer, tapping my chin for dramatic effect. "I think I have a better idea…"
"Better than ice cream?" Iris asks, her eyes wide.
We’re at my car now, but instead of getting inside, I scoop her up into my arms and walk back the way we came. This little strip mall where I buy Iris’s dance shoes has a bunch of other shops, too. There’s a beer distributor, a nail salon, a gaming store, and a place for bubble tea. But best of all, there’s a pizza shop that also serves hot fudge sundaes.
"Should we go to Little John’s and get some lunch? We can text Zane and see what he and the twins want."
Iris is bobbing her head with excitement. "Can we play games, too?"
"Have we ever gone to Little John’s and not played games while we waited for our food?" It’s impossible to resist my littlest sister’s charm. Or her dimple. Apparently, I was fated to have a weakness for dimples. And blonds.
