Off the Ice (Juniper Falls)

  I drop my glove hand and focus on standing still while Mike maneuvers his way to the goal. I stumble over my words, shouting three different guesses as to where he might aim his shot. My first guess was right. Mike says nothing as he backs up, dragging the puck by his stick, and then he’s moving forward again.

  “This time,” he tells me, “only one guess.”

  My anxiety levels rise, watching Mike attempt a few different fakes, throwing me off. I do my best to not move and keep my answers to one guess while he attempts another shot on goal, followed by another and another. Finally, when I’m wound so tight I’m actually getting tired from standing still, Mike says, “All right. Now you can move if you want. But no talking. Keep your guessing to yourself.”

  “Want me to grab the rest of my gear?”

  Mike shakes his head. “Nope. Stay behind the goal. You’re not gonna touch the puck.”

  I shake out my stiff limbs and get into position behind the goal. The relief of not having to tell him where I think he’ll shoot is instant. He comes at the goal from an angle and pulls off a damn good shot for a goalie. My glove hand rises, lining up perfectly with the pocket of the net the puck sinks into.

  Mike nods and grins. “Didn’t I tell you your glove was getting fast, man?” he says, reminding me of that night last fall during Claire’s going-away party.

  We keep this up for another twenty minutes, and instead of feeling drained, I’m energized. Mike stops to take a swig of his water bottle before tossing it to me. “Your head sucks, T-Man. You gotta figure out how to shut that voice down. You know?”

  I kick at a divot in the ice and nod. He’s right. It’s not supposed to be so hard…not for someone like me who’s had the training and the practice. I’m wearing myself down thinking too much. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I wanted this. To be good. Maybe even great.”

  Mike takes the water from me again and stares out at the pond. “It’s tough admitting that. Then you gotta be compared to everyone else. Even—”

  “My dad,” I admit.

  “Yep. Fucking Dad. The only thing I ever hated about hockey.” He nods. “But you know what? Fuck that. Forget him. Forget his jersey on the wall or whatever. You’re not him.”

  I look down at my skates. God, I hope I’m not him. But all that temperamental shit I’ve been pulling lately…not exactly an apple falling far from the tree. I lift my head and glance out at the trailer park across the road. Less than a year ago, the Stellers hosted a hockey team party and I walked around their huge house, shocked by the size, the view from the private inlet, the wood interior and fancy appliances. “How’s it going there? You got heat and all that?”

  “In the trailer?” he asks. “The heat sucks. Most of it sucks. But it’s ours, and I don’t have someone breathing down my neck, telling me I’m a screwup, so that makes this shithole the happiest place on earth, in my opinion.”

  I’m about to ask him how Jessie’s doing, but she appears across the street, a large plastic container in her hands. Mike grins and walks over to meet her, but I can’t seem to do anything but stare at her giant stomach. I haven’t seen her for a few months so it’s like, okay, this is real now.

  When Jessie gets close enough, she smacks the side of my head. “It’s a fucking baby, not an alien.”

  I rub my head where she hit me and lift an eyebrow. “You sure it’s just one?”

  She laughs. “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.” Mike leans against the front of my mom’s minivan and pulls Jessie against him.

  “The TV went out again.” Jessie sighs. “Well, I can hear it, I just can’t see a picture. And I think the kids next door figured out our password again because the internet is running super slow.”

  I look away when Mike slides a hand inside Jessie’s coat. “It is an alien in here. There’s an elbow poking out. T-Man, you gotta feel this.”

  My attention snaps back to Mike and Jessie. I lift my hands up in the air and back away. “Dude, I’m not feeling your girlfriend’s stomach.”

  Mike seems to think this over a minute. “Yeah, guess that is kinda messed up.”

  Jessie rolls her eyes. “Why? Everyone else, stranger or not, loves to touch my belly and tell me how many ways I’m already killing my baby. Did you know if your underwear is too tight—”

  “What strangers?” Mike demands. “Who’s bothering you?”

  She smiles and rests her head against his chest. “All those other guys who might be my baby daddy.”

  I choke on the drink of Mike’s water I just took and spray it everywhere. Jessie seems to think this is hilarious, but Mike looks more haunted by her joke. He glances at me. “My dad. That’s what he said when I told him. That it’s probably not mine.”

  Jesus.

  I wipe the water from my face and absorb that news. I don’t even know what to say. No wonder they couldn’t stay with the Stellers.

  “You’re right. It’s cold out here.” Jessie pushes up on her toes and kisses Mike. “But I thought you guys might want these.”

  She hands off the container to Mike, who pops the lid, revealing a couple dozen cookies. “Claire stopped by again?” he asks.

  “Claire, these cookies, and three more casseroles.” Jessie turns to head back across the road but calls over her shoulder, “See ya, Tate.”

  “Bye, Jess,” I say, but I’m focused on the cookies. “Claire made those for you?”

  Mike shakes his head, his mouth full. “She’s got food coming out her ears, apparently. People keep bringing stuff and nobody eats it.”

  The mention of Claire makes my stomach knot with…what, I’m not sure. I wonder when she brought this stuff over? Maybe we almost ran into each other.

  Mike is watching me closely. His left brow shoots up. “You still got a thing for O’Connor, huh?”

  “What?” I shake my head in protest. “No.”

  “Come on, I’m not an idiot,” Mike says. “I’ve seen you admiring her, talking…”

  “It’s not like we ever hung out together on purpose,” I argue. “She’s my sister’s—”

  “Friend,” he finishes. “Yeah, I know. But Jody’s gone and you’re here asking about her, so what am I supposed to assume?”

  I reach out and grab a cookie. “Want me to look at that TV?”

  “I get it.” Mike holds his hands up, surrendering. “Can’t afford the distraction, right? I’ll let it go. For now. You really think you can fix the TV?”

  I bend over to unlace my skates. “Maybe.”

  “Dude.” Mike laughs. “You so have a thing for Claire.”

  “I thought you were letting that go?” My jaw tenses and I yank a skate off, tossing it onto the snowy grass. If I’d known this would turn into more locker room talk, I wouldn’t have come over. “We didn’t hook up. We didn’t do anything.”

  Mike’s forehead wrinkles. “So what if you did? What’s wrong with that? Because Claire hooked up with Pratt last year she’s suddenly the town vixen? Jesus Christ. Before Jessie, I…” He closes his eyes for a second and exhales. “Let’s just say I’m a lot different now. But back then, no one said shit about me. Now they do.”

  I stuff my foot into a boot and look up at Mike. “I hate that you can’t play, but I get it. I’m sorry. About everything.”

  Sorry that my dad’s a selfish asshole and won’t do shit for you.

  “But you’re in now,” Mike points out. “Don’t think you’re fooling me; I know you want it. At least a little bit.”

  My nonresponse says everything. I do want it. But being in isn’t enough. I want to be great. “So…the TV?”

  “Right.” Mike laughs and we head across the street once my boots are on and Mike’s skate guards are in place. “You know…” he says before we reach the trailer. “It might change the tide a bit if people knew that you’re into her.”

  “I never said I was—”

  “Save it.” He holds up a hand to stop me. “Fooling aroun
d is one thing; really liking her is another.”

  “I think she’s going back to school in January.” We walk in silence for a minute and then it hits me how weird this conversation has been. “What’s with the fatherly advice? Are you reading a parenting book or something?”

  Mike bursts out laughing. “Yeah, right. Jessie reads. I pretend to listen to her yap about the reading. To me, it’s not that fucking complicated, the whole father thing—don’t be an asshole, listen, find your own glory instead of living off your kid’s.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Mike looks me over. “Hey, your dad’s definitely got the legend thing going on—that’s a shitload of pressure for you—but at least he’s cool, right?”

  “Right.” I clamp my jaw shut and nod. “But Claire…she’s not—I don’t think she’s interested.”

  Except she was. For a moment. But maybe it was a weak moment for her, or maybe she pretended I was someone else. Someone older. Someone else she crushed on for years.

  Chapter 17

  –Claire–

  I’m driving back from the cell phone store, after having to coerce the girl behind the counter to turn our phones back on for half the bill, when the pings of forty-eight hours without cell access start coming in. The first one I read is from Tate.

  TATE: Want to hang out?

  Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s me finally giving in to whatever this is, but moments later, I pass Benny’s. Through the front windows, I can see Tate seated at a table with Leo and Jamie. I don’t give myself a second to chicken out. I pull into the parking lot and hop out of the car.

  Benny’s on a weeknight luckily isn’t too bad. The place is only about half filled.

  Jamie and Leo both spot me and wave. Tate, on the other hand, slides all the way to the far side of the booth, near the window. He makes eye contact for a second and then looks down at his tray of food. No hey, Claire or a wave or anything. I thought he wanted to hang out?

  I turn to Leo and Jamie. “What do you guys think about Game Night at O’Connor’s? You got my text, right?” With the phone bill issue, I guess I can’t be sure it made it through. Late Night at O’Connor’s went so well last Friday that I’m working on some more themed nights. Gotta get that five grand to the hospital billing office.

  And another two grand to Northwestern, I remind myself, my stomach tumbling at the thought. I’ve been dismissing that tuition money lately, like it’s not a real bill. Like I’m not really going back. But I have to.

  “We got your text, but…” Jamie scratches his head. “I don’t get it?”

  “Game night on game night,” I repeat. “With the Otters.”

  “Like hockey after hockey?” Leo asks. “Probably not a great idea.”

  I shake my head. “I was thinking more like card games or anything you can play at a table.”

  Jamie points a finger at me. “Go Fish!”

  “Sure…if you want.” I give Tate another glance, waiting for him to chime in. The memory of his hand on my arm, my fingers in his hair, two nights ago is still fresh and full of feelings. He continues eating his fries but says nothing. My enthusiasm for this hangout session he requested is quickly dying. “Or even Poker or Blackjack or that board game everyone is crazy about—Ticket to Ride. You know what? Don’t worry about that; I’ll come up with a plan. Just say you’re in? I need maybe five or six of you.”

  I glance hopefully at Tate but he’s still sitting there looking bored.

  “What are we getting out of this?” Leo asks.

  Jamie nods. “Yeah, what he said.”

  Uh…good question. “Well…” I stall for a few seconds before coming up with an angle. “You get a few extra hours of being worshipped by a table full of middle school kids and probably freshmen.”

  Jamie narrows his eyes at me, then a grin spreads across his face. “Dude, I’m so in.” He holds his fist out for me to bump.

  “Me, too,” Leo agrees.

  “Think you can get a few more?” I ask, then look at Tate yet again. “Like the new starting goalie, maybe?”

  Leo reaches across the table and slugs Tate on the shoulder. “T-Man, you in or not?”

  “Um…” Finally he looks at me, and something on his face tells me he’s embarrassed or…I don’t know.

  Leo gives Jamie a look and then both of them jump up from the table, claiming to need milkshakes ASAP. Tate tries to join them, but Leo pushes him back into the booth. They converse silently through a series of warning glances from Leo and exasperated ones from Tate. Finally Leo looks at me. “Chocolate, right, O’Connor?”

  “Um, sure.”

  After they’re gone, headed for the counter to order shakes, I give the diner a quick look around and then slide into the booth beside Tate. “You said you wanted to hang out…so here I am.”

  Tate stares at me. “That was Saturday. It’s Monday.”

  Ah. Makes sense now. And the disconnected phone mishaps just keep on coming. I steal a fry and dip it in ketchup. “Better late than never, right?”

  Tension hangs in the air between us while Tate ponders this. Finally, I sigh. “Something happened with my phone. It— Well, it…” My face heats up. Of course. Dammit. “Stopped working. The company stopped it.” I wave a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I just got your message.”

  “It’s fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t have to reply. It’s no big deal.”

  My thigh brushes against his, giving me that stomach-fluttering feeling again.

  He traces a finger over the long crack in the old plastic table. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s weird, right?”

  Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. “So, what’s new in the rumor mill?”

  He flinches at the mention of rumors but says nothing.

  I lift an eyebrow. “Please tell me you haven’t gotten in any more fights over any of that stuff?”

  He hesitates long enough to get me worried.

  “Tate! Seriously?”

  I shove his shoulder with one hand, but he catches my fingers in his, stopping me. My breath catches in my throat. Tate, on the other hand, appears completely at ease with his fingers around mine. “No fights. I promise.”

  “I don’t believe you.” My fingers are hot where he’s touching them. “You hesitated. Clear indication of lying.”

  “Really?” He walks two fingers from my palm to the inside of my wrist. “Your pulse is awfully fast for an honest person.”

  My face flushes, and I focus on our linked hands. “It’s always like that. All those stage performances, they’ve put me in a constant state of adrenaline rush.” I tug my hand free and look up at him again.

  He’s wearing the sexy smile from the other night. “So…you and me, hanging out? You don’t hate the idea?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” I sit up straighter, my composure regained. “How about hanging out next Friday night, after the game? At O’Connor’s.”

  Tate laughs and then nods. “Yeah, fine, I’ll play Go Fish or whatever.”

  Jamie and Leo return with four shakes, and Tate puts a respectable distance between us. Leo slides a chocolate shake my way.

  Headlights shine right into the window beside our booth and Kyle Stewart’s truck comes into view. I drop a hand on Tate’s knee beneath the table. “No fighting.”

  His eyes widen, gaze flitting down to his lap and then back to my face. My cheeks flush again, probably enough for Jamie and Leo to notice. I had only meant to hold him in place. I draw my hand back, but Tate catches it again and returns it to his knee. Jesus. He is way gutsier than I am.

  Just don’t check my pulse again.

  Chapter 18

  –Tate–

  She started this. She put her hand on my knee. How am I supposed to think about anything but that right now? I shake my head, attempting to refocus. Kyle Stewart, his girlfriend, Kayla, plus Leslie and Haley walk into Benny’s. Haley’s stumbling and slurring her words. I can hear her poor attempt at o
rdering food all the way from our booth. She bends over to rest her head on the counter and Stewart laughs really hard. Then Kayla and Leslie follow.

  I swear under my breath and Claire quickly draws her hand back for the second time. Leo eyes me from across the table. “Don’t, man. You gotta chill out.”

  Haley manages to get herself to an empty table. But then more headlights appear outside the window. A group of guys who I know are friends with Luke Pratt walk in next. Beside me, Claire stiffens, watching the guys who just entered. Not for the first time, I want to ask her what happened that night. But Pratt isn’t with his friends tonight.

  Leo and Jamie wave to the guys but neither moves to talk to them. They head right over to Stewart’s table. One of the guys puts a hand on Haley’s shoulder. “Stevenson, where’s the princess smile tonight?”

  The girls crack up and so does Stewart. Haley rests her head against her hand, eyes already fluttering shut. I let out a huge sigh and then look at Claire. “Can you let me out?”

  She looks surprised but hops up quickly. I head over to Haley’s table, Jamie’s and Leo’s protests ringing in my ears. I glare at Kayla and Leslie. “You guys are supposed to be her friends.”

  They both look incredibly guilty but neither one apologizes. As gently as possible, I pull Haley out of her chair and onto her feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Her eyes fly all the way open, and she takes me in and then jerks her arm away. “No! I ordered food… I’m staying at Leslie’s.”

  I wrap an arm around her waist and bring her close enough to whisper in her ear. “Kayla and Leslie are two seconds away from posting drunk pictures of you on Instagram.”

  “They’re my friends,” she argues, trying to break away. We’ve got everyone’s attention now. “Unlike you. You’re not anything anymore.”

  I should just say, Okay. Fine. And leave her. “Your friends who would do anything to beat you for Juniper Princess,” I remind her, keeping my voice low enough for only Haley to hear.

  Haley’s jaw drops open. “Those little—”

  “Save it for when you have balance.” Luckily she doesn’t fight me. I manage to walk her out the door of Benny’s.