"I decided last semester I was just done with school," she returns quietly. I stop undressing to put my ear closer to the door. "I was achieving a goal that wasn't mine, but was dad's."
"It was your goal too," Lucas snaps at her.
"No. It wasn't. Dad is always the one that pushed medical school at me and well, I just never told him differently, that I didn't want to be a doctor."
"So you just decided not to finish the last semester of your undergrad? What have you been doing for the last two and a half months?"
"Working at a bar off campus," she says, but I can tell by the slight defensiveness in her voice coupled with how quickly she answered, that's a very clear lie. I can spot a lie on your face, or in your tone of voice faster than a New York minute.
"And the money for your tuition and what mom and dad give you for living expenses?" Lucas grits out.
"The tuition's been refunded; the check was sent to me. As for the living expenses...well, I've been using some of the money they put in my account each month to supplement my wages."
"They are going to fucking kill you," Lucas says, and that's when I decide to checkout of the conversation.
It was interesting, but it's not my problem. So it looks like we have another roommate for a bit, but it doesn't bother me as long as she stays out of my way. And if she gets too intrusive, I can always get on it and buy my own home. I signed a three-year deal with the Cold Fury so I'll definitely be buying, and my house will be big enough to move Etta here, if I can convince her to leave California.
Speaking of which, I finish getting dressed and grab my cellphone off my dresser. I sit on the bed with my back against the headboard and dial her. I imagine at this time of day, she's probably sitting on her patio reading a book.
"Hey you," she answers, the melody of her sweet voice is the best kind of music to my ears.
"What are you doing?" I ask I stretch my legs out on the bed, knowing that it might be the kiss of death to my motivation to hit the gym.
"I actually just got back in from a late lunch," she answers and I hear the mischief in her voice.
"With who?" I ask, marveling at how my voice is different when I talk to her.
Teasing.
Light.
Funny.
So not the Van Turner that everyone else sees.
"His name is Mark and he's a veterinarian," she says in an excited rush. "He's really nice, and very handsome, and the only thing that's been a slight turnoff is that his practice specializes in reptiles. I just have this image of going to his house and there being tanks all over the place with lizards and snakes."
I laugh, knowing Etta's extreme fear of said reptiles. Well, small ones actually. She says it's the small ones that give her the wiggins. I once found her sitting on the kitchen island of my house because a tiny lizard was loose somewhere in there.
"Maybe before you invest any time in him," I say sagely, "you should ask him about that. Not that I think you're ready to go to his house after just one lunch date."
My aunt spent her entire life devoted to raising me and never got married. She would always say that was the way she wanted it, but I sometimes wonder if it was just too hard for a single woman with a kid to find someone she could get serious about.
But since I've moved to the east coast, she's started doing a little sporadic dating which has made me happy. I definitely harbor guilt that she lost out on some things in life when she took me on.
"What's going on with you?" she deftly changes the subject, as she considers me to be more important than herself.
"Having a lazy day," I tell her. "With the playoffs clinched, I don't have much motivation to do anything."
"Slacker," she says affectionately. "And I'll assume that the answer to my repeated question if you're seeing anyone is still the same?"
"Still the same," I tell her.
Unless you want to count the strippers I watch at a local titty bar when I have a night off.
"Van...you're missing out on so much," she chides.
"I could say the same about you," I return softly. "We both had our reasons for hiding away."
"I know," she says on a soft sigh. "I just want you to be happy. Maybe you should follow my lead and venture forth."
"I am happy," I lie to her. I don't know that I've ever been truly happy a day in my life.
Well, that's not true. I was beyond grateful, and it was as close to happy as I could get, when Etta came and told me I was going to live with her forever and ever. As an eight-year-old kid who had been traumatized by his own parents, it was the best gift I've ever been given.
"Have you gone to see him?" she asks hesitantly, but with the clear distaste in her voice that only comes out when she talks about him.
"No," I tell her softly. "And you'd know if I did because you'd be the first person I would tell."
"You don't have to," she says with swift finality.
"I know. I'm still considering it."
"You know I'm a good person, Van," she says with a sigh. "But God help my soul, I hope he dies before you get up the courage."
I can't help but chuckle. Etta has been my protector and champion forever. Still going strong at it.
"Listen," I say as I push up from the bed. "If I decide to go, I'll tell you ahead of time. That will give you an opportunity to talk me out of it, okay?"
She gives a small laugh. "Okay. Rotten kid."
Stepping into my closet, I bend over and pick up my gym shoes. "I've got to get going. I've decided to not be a slug and go workout."
"Maybe you'll meet a pretty girl there," she says slyly.
"Goodbye, Etta," I drawl.
"I love you, kiddo," she says with deep affection.
"I love you more," I tell her back truthfully. The only woman I'm sure I'll ever love.
When we disconnect, I put my shoes on and grab my wallet and keys off my dresser. I pocket my cellphone and open my bedroom door. When I step into the hallway, I'm almost mowed over by Simone as she drags her largest suitcase toward Lucas's room which is just past mine on the opposite side.
"Sorry," she mumbles as she comes to a stop and I step back into my doorway to give her room.
I just stare down at her, waiting for her to pass. She doesn't and stares right back at me.
"Lucas said you're grumpy," she says with a curious tilt of her head.
"Yup," I agree.
"Hmmm," she says as if she's appraising my entire personality. "I'm going to go with brooding. It's a better fit for the hotness you exude."
"Hotness?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow.
"Oh, come on," she says dramatically and waves her hand up and down at me. Her eyes roam over my body and if I was an oversensitive prude, I'd be offended. But I'm not. "Just look at all you got going on? Big and muscly. And those deep, sensitive eyes filled with mystery. Total hotness and totally broody."
"Whatever you say," I drawl as I try to step past her. She moves and places herself in my path.
"I'm cooking dinner tonight for you and Lucas," she practically chirps with a bright smile. And fine, I'll admit it...those two dimples that pucker when she does so add a new level of hotness to her own package.
But they don't sway me. "I'll pass. I'll grab something while I'm out."
She stares at me a moment, and I can see the calculation in her eyes. She's absolutely up to something and for the life of me I can't figure out how it could involve me. Maybe she's just fucking crazy, like originally assumed.
Finally, she gives a regal nod of her head and moves to the side. I lower my gaze and move past her, bristling when she murmurs. "Definitely hot and broody. I like it."
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Sawyer Bennett, Lucas
(Series: Cold Fury Hockey # 8)
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