Her eyes locked with mine in the mirror. “I don’t know. I don’t really hear about him turning hot girls away.”
“Great, so I’m broken.”
“Why don’t you ask him about it at hockey tomorrow? He’s never had a problem with his reputation.”
“Oh yeah, that sounds logical and all. ‘Hey, Josh, why didn’t you sleep with me when I threw myself at you?’ Is that something you would ask?” I zipped my hoodie to the neck, suddenly feeling a little cheap.
“You threw yourself at him?”
“The night I found Riley and Kayla.”
We hadn’t really broached the Riley/Kayla topic. She knew why I left, voiced her disgust at Kayla and all, but had never said I told you so. “What exactly did he say?”
I pulled my knees up to my chest. “He wasn’t having sex with me until it was about ‘us,’ and not just about the damage on me.”
Her mascara tube hit the vanity, and her mouth gaped open. “Holy shit. You got to Josh Walker.”
I was too scared to smile. “Not as much as he’s gotten to me.”
Chapter Eleven
There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to justify Gus being on the ice at seven a.m. It took about a half hour for him to gear up, fifteen minutes to drive to the arena, a ten minute well-check on Mom, which I promised I’d finish after practice, and a half-hour drive to Mom’s house to pick up Gus. That had me getting up at five on a Saturday morning and forsaking my morning run. The alteration in my schedule had my skin crawling, but Gus was worth the adjustment.
The seven minute pit stop at Starbucks made this possible. No caffeine, no wakey. That’s how my body worked.
I finished tightening his skates, kissed his curls, and sent him to the ice with a playful swat on his backside. “Go get ’em, Tiger!”
“Ha! Never heard that one,” he threw back.
Two more weeks of the season and then playoffs. I could keep this up for that long. Besides, even though Mom had been awake, she hadn’t really been there. Fake smile, fake laugh, but real pancakes. One day off from Sunday, but the effort was there, and much appreciated. I hesitated to hope that she was getting better, but maybe if I carried her just a little further, she’d come back to us for real.
My mocha warmed my hands as my backside absorbed the chill from the steel bleachers. I nodded to the two blond girls I’d seen here last week and attempted not to let my eyes bug out of my head at what Tweedledee and Tweedledum were wearing. It was way too freaking early to show that much cleavage at a kids’ hockey game. I kind of hoped they froze their assets off. I squashed my mean thoughts and searched the coaches, but Josh wasn’t here, yet. It wasn’t like him to be late when hockey was involved.
I took my book out of my bag and went back to studying my mind-numbing childhood education texts. If I could knock this out this morning, I had the rest of the weekend to indulge in my history reading.
Every few pages, I lifted my head, telling myself I was checking on Gus. I was really looking for Josh. Maybe I should have apologized for what happened last night, but look how that apology turned out. If I tried to say I’m sorry now, I would probably start humping his leg like a horny dog.
“I guess no Walker brownie points today,” one of the Tweedle twins muttered behind me.
I locked my gaze on Gus, refusing to turn around and blatantly stare at the stalkers behind me. It didn’t stop me from listening, though.
“I know.” Tweedledum sighed. “Totally makes getting up so damn early a waste of time if we can’t go out to breakfast with him.”
“I guess we could take Jagger out,” Tweedledee muttered. I hadn’t noticed before that Jagger coached with Josh.
“You’ve already slept with Jagger.”
“Only because Josh wasn’t interested.”
I sputtered, nearly sending coffee out my nose.
“Yeah, he’s been kinda off for the last few weeks, you know? He’s turning everyone down.” Tweedledum sounded annoyed. “And sorry, but Jagger may be hot, but he’s no Josh.”
He was turning down everyone. I bit back my smile and tried to tune out of their conversation and focus on my work when Gus wasn’t on the ice. By the time the game was over, he’d scored one goal and had an assist for the win. Each time, he’d pointed to me in the stands like such a big man. I was so proud of him.
Dad would have been proud of him, too.
The familiar ache settled in my chest. The pain wasn’t lessening; it was still sharp at moments and dull at others, but it was sinking in my heart, making room for other things, too. I had room to smile at Gus’s goal, to find joy in his grin.
I blew him a kiss after the team fell on each other in a melee of black and gold. He needed this. Hell, I needed this.
Gus waved at me, but it was Jagger who faked receiving the kiss and blew one back. I couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of me.
It didn’t go unnoticed by the Tweedle twins.
“Hey, you, Red!” Tweedledum shouted down to me.
I gathered what composure I had and turned. “Yes?”
“Was Jagger Bateman kissing at you?” Her eyes narrowed and her lips turned in an insulted sneer. Great.
I took a deep breath. This was how those crazy hockey-parent YouTube clips started. “I’m his next-door neighbor. He was just goofing around. I’m sorry, is he your boyfriend?” I damn well knew the answer to that one.