Double damn him for being sweet. “Is this about what I said the other night? About how I deal with nasty glares and offhand comments daily? It’s not your concern. Like I said, I can handle my own shit.”
As if the universe has finally decided to take my side, a couple guys from the baseball team walk by. They glare at me, and I glare right back.
“No fucking doubt,” Pete agrees. “You could take Watkins and Goshorn in a fight if I’m being honest. But why should you have to? If I’m offering help, why turn it down?”
“Because I don’t play well with others, Pete,” I tell him honestly, hoping he can read between the lines. “Because I’ve been handling my business by myself for twenty-two years and I’ve been doing just fine. Because assholes are everywhere and unless you’re going to handcuff yourself to me, I’m going to have to deal with them eventually. Why delay the inevitable?”
Pete’s grin turns wolfish. “You had me at handcuff.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes again.
“Look,” he says, “Everything you said the other day at Drip was a mindfuck, okay? It sent me reeling and I’ve already got shit going on at home and with the team, so my brain put two and two together and got nineteen.” He leans against the wall and the action emphasizes his broad chest. I realize now that he’s dressed in a hoodie and basketball shorts. I shouldn’t be surprised, that’s what he usually wears, but the temperature has dipped below freezing this week.
I blink and force my brain to abandon thoughts of his muscular chest and toned thighs. He’s talking and I should pay attention.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. You were right. They never should have let me sit for that test. I’d like to say they knew my family was going through shit and I needed a way to go to school locally.”
I stare at him blankly because my brain is still in ogling mode when it needs to be locked in on what he’s telling me. He mistakes my vapid expression for misunderstanding, so he starts filling in the blanks.
“My mom got sick when I was in high school. It’s why we moved here, actually. About a month or two after her breast cancer diagnosis, my dad split. He used the excuse of traveling for work, but the truth is, he just couldn’t hack it as an actual husband and father. As soon as things got rough, he was out. My brothers are in high school now, but they were younger then, obviously, and Ma and I could only do so much. Anyway, it made sense to move down here and stay with Gramma Dottie while Ma went through her treatments. The plan was that we’d go back to Syracuse once chemo was over, and she kicked cancer’s ass. She did, by the way. Twice now. She’s a total warrior, my mom.”
He gets a sappy look on his face when he mentions his mother and I have the sudden and ridiculous urge to know if he resembles her or if he looks more like his dickbag of a father.
“Ma decided to stay here with the boys, and I’d already been accepted to a school up north. The thought of leaving them sucked, though—Kaden Kersey, he’s our backup goalie and my Gramma’s neighbor—he’d already committed to BU and he dragged me along to skate with the team one day after school. It all just kinda clicked. I met with the athletic director and an admissions counselor that afternoon. They told me to come in for a scholarship test on Saturday, and I didn’t think there was any more toit. I was just hoping that whatever money I got would be enough to match Clarkson’s offer.”
“So you could stay close to your family,” I say, piecing the details together.
“Yeah, I mean, the boys were both in middle school. Neither one of them could drive yet, and even though my mom and grandma are two of the most capable people I know, we had a lot going on back then. I knew an extra set of hands—and wheels—would help. Plus, I hated the idea of leaving. It felt too close to what my dad had done.”
My frozen heart cracks a little at his words. “You needed that scholarship,” I say, as much to myself as to him.
“So did you, Claire. So did every person sitting in that auditorium. The fact is, my family situation wasn’t a factor for the athletic director or the admissions counselor. It’s what was driving me, but all they saw was a big dude who could fly across the ice. I filled a vacancy that left their team vulnerable. They needed me to keep the assholes the hell away from Booker and Van. And now Will. They let me sit for that test because there were no more athletic scholarships. They figured that with my grades I could get enough money that BU would edge out what Clarkson had offered. They didn’t intend for me to get a full ride. I didn’t either.”
“You said your mom’s okay, though, right?” Nothing else feels nearly as important as that detail.
“She is,” he says, nodding. “Well, mostly. But the fact is you were right. My privilege got me in that door. That’s something I never even stopped to consider.”
I’m shaking my head before he finishes his sentence. “But you clearly needed to be there. And they never told you the deadline had passed. It wasn’t your job to know that.” All the bravado and anger I’ve nurtured for the pastthree and a half years melts into a puddle and dissipates. None of this was part of Pete’s master plan. It’s just the way things happened. “I was short-sighted. I didn’t know any of that, and I never asked. I just held a grudge.”
Pete shrugs before stepping away from the wall and joining me on the bench. “It doesn’t matter. Like I said, the college didn’t bend the rules because of my family circumstances. They bent the rules because it benefited them. And that hurt you. I’m sorry for that.”
I look at the man sitting next to me, the man I’ve resented, the one I’ve lusted after. The one who would have definitely been my friend if this mess hadn’t gotten in the way. “Maybe and I’m sayingmaybehere,” I tell him, “it’s possible that I overreacted. That my grudge-holding skills are top-notch. That maybe I should have done a little investigating of my own.”
Pete’s handsome face blooms into a smile. “Investigating does seem to be your strong suit.”
“Ouch,” I tell him as he laughs.
His teammates are back, carrying a tank with a lizard in it. That’s not so strange, but the lava lamp and beach chair are unexpected. Although, really, nothing surprises me when it comes to these guys. Not even the frosty vibes I’m getting from Jenksy. He’s an athlete and I came for his people. He can feel his feelings.
The guys get busy arranging their set up and I’m almost afraid to ask what they have planned. Pete stays seated next to me and the silence that stretches between us isn’t hostile or even tense. It’s neutral. Okay, it could turn hot as hell if we were alone and I let it, but neither of those things will ever be true.
Pete may not be my sworn enemy any longer, but he’s not getting promoted any higher than that. My libido can settle down.
No, really, I scold my inner harlot,calm the fuck down.He’s just a man and it’s just a beard and everyone probably smells that good and wears the hell out of a cut-off hoodie the way he does.
Before my vagina seizes control of my brain, I launch myself off the bench and take the lava lamp from Mickey’s hands like I’m inspecting it.
“Aw, shit, can we use it?” he asks. “Or will it throw off the lights you already have set up?”
