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“You’re disappointed in me,” she says. “Don’t bother arguing. Your moral compass is much stricter than mine or your father’s. Always has been. It’s why you were the one who actually did something when it came to Lake. I wish I’d been more like you.” She breathes in slowly and clears her throat. “I’m glad you two are still friends. Even after everything.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly.
“We should go out to dinner. All three of us,” Mom says. “It’s actually why I called. I’m in town in a few weeks for a couple of meetings, so I thought I could do the motherly thing and feed my son dinner. Watch him play hockey for an evening. You think he’d be interested?”
“He might be,” I say. “When are you coming? I have to see where we’re playing.”
She rattles off the dates, and I check the schedule.
“I’ll come to your game on Saturday, and we’ll do lunch on Sunday?”
“Sounds good.”
“Invite Lake. I’m not sure he’ll want to have anything to do with me, but it’s high time I try to build some bridges.”
“Okay,” I say. “I will.”
“It’s a deal, then. Can’t wait to see you, hon.”
I hang up and blow out a big breath.
Lunch with my mother and Lake.
This should be interesting.
RYKER
The next few weeks fly by. The last two games of the Hockey East Tournament are scheduled for next Friday and Saturday. We win those, and it’s automatic qualification for the NCAA Tournament, which means Regionals the last week of March.
We’ve made it to the Frozen Four once in the last three years, and we lost right away, so this year is my last chance.
I spend a lot of time in practice and even more time watching film, studying every move and every weakness of every team we’re up against.
Lake’s got an exam coming up, so it feels like I’ve barely seen him. Partly because he seems to have moved into the library, and partly because there’s an eighty percent chance he’s surgically attached a book to his face. He’s also pulling all-nighters left and right and mutters the phrase “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” unironically.
Which means I haven’t brought up lunch with my mom to him because I don’t want to be responsible for his untimely death. Stress kills. Or so I’ve heard. And adding Genevive James to the pile might just be that last drop that does it.
I’ll do it today as soon as he’s done with his exam. My last class lets out an hour before he’s finished, but instead of going home, I park my ass in front of the chemistry building and wait.
Minutes tick by one after another.
But then he’s here.
And my day is immediately better.
He stops at the top of the few stairs that lead down to the square in front of the building. He simply stands there and looks at me, and there’s a tired smile on his face that says more than a thousand grand gestures from anybody else.
That smile is mine.
And I want the rest of him to be mine, too.
It’s not an easy thought. If you don’t have anything, you don’t have anything to lose.
It doesn’t help that Lake’s still been a bit weird these past few weeks. Still sort of distant. But then again we’ve both been incredibly busy, so it’s difficult to say whether it’s getting better or not. It’s difficult to say whether I’m just overthinking it because now I’ve had a glimpse of how good we could be.
“Hey,” he says once he reaches me.
“Hi,” I reply.
