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“We were trying to keep it casual,” I say after a little while. “And at some point, I think I started imagining it was going to turn not casual if we kept it up. Like a natural progression.”
“Mhm,” Grams says, watching me with watery blue eyes.
She’s smart enough to let the silence drag, pushing me to fill it, even though I don’t necessarily want to open up and share. “And I guess things did progress that way. But only for one of us. For me,” I say slowly.
Grams nods sagely. “I get it. You both tried to outrun stupid, but it turns out, you were running in the wrong direction.” She brings her hands together to demonstrate the collision with a crooked smile.
I snort. “Something like that.”
“What are you gonna do about it, though?”
I throw my hands up. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You could start by going to his next game,” she says. “Suck up a little. Wear his jersey. Clap and cheer. Suck his dick a little, too. After the game, of course.”
I sputter, laughing. “One of those things is not like the other, Grams.”
She shrugs. “Just saying. They always say cooking is the key to a man’s heart. If you ask me, it’s giving good brain.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can you please stop browsing Urban Dictionary for new sex slang?” Ever since Grams learned to use the internet, I swear she has only been interested in finding new lewd things to learn about and incorporate into her vocabulary. Sometimes, I think she only does it to mess with me.
“Nope,” Grams says. “And nope. Not my fault if you can’t stand the thought of me giving a mean missile hickey. The Ol’ Hoover Maneuver. Warming the South Pole. The–”
“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing.
Grams smiles back at me, winking with a little flash of the genuine affection and concern she hides so well. “I know I give you shit. And you deserve all of it. But bullshit aside, you two need to fix your mess. I’m tired of watching you kids fuck this up. It’s not that hard.”
I nod slowly, deep in my thoughts.
“Also, the toilet is clogged out there. Edgar and I are too sore from last night to fix it. So, before you go running off to save your not-relationship, I’m gonna need you to tackle that.”
37
NOLAN
Jake parks the SUV and leaves it idling. I glance out the window, feeling my confusion mounting.
“Where is the hotel?” I ask.
“That’s the surprise,” Jake says. “There’s no hotel. We thought you could use a little retreat before the game. Clear your head.”
I glare. “My head is clear.”
“No, it’s not,” he says. There’s too much certainty in his tone to even bother arguing.
I look out the window again. We’re parked in front of a small wooded cabin. “So we’re all going to stay here and party tonight? Is that your grand plan?”
“Nope,” Jake says. There’s a twinkle of something mischievous in his eyes I don’t like. I glance into the back seat where Jesse and Liam are sitting. They both give me blank looks.
I stare at Jake again. “You assholes are dropping me off here to stay on my own? Is this your way of telling me you’re going to let Sandvick take over for me at the goal to finish out the series?” I’m only partly joking. I’ve been a liability in front of the net. Last night, I gave up the final goal to lose us the match. It means tomorrow’s game is our last chance to stay in the series and the running for the cup. One more loss, and we’re out. Two wins, and we get the cup. I’m not sure I’d blame them for starting our backup goalie at this point.
“No,” Jake says, looking deadly serious. “We trust you. And we think this will be good for you. So get your ass in there and stop asking so many questions.”
“Yeah,” Jesse says. “Just go in there.”
I look between them, feeling a touch of suspicion. They’re all acting a little strange, even if I can’t put my finger on how, exactly. I push the door open, grab my bag out of the trunk, and I’m about to say something in the window but Jake is already pulling off, kicking up gravel behind the car.
I throw my hands up in annoyed frustration. I guess I’m calling myself a car if I want to go anywhere? Un-fucking-believable.
