It’s like a sucker punch to my gut, and my empty stomach roils.
The server behind the counter hands a bag of food to Mr. Morrison, and before I can collect my thoughts, find my voice to defend myself, or even get my breath back, they’re all gone.
Double fuck. This doesn’t look good. I know that. But Molly is a good person. She’ll listen to me when I tell her it’s not what it looked like. She’ll listen and if she doesn’t, I’ll keep talking at her until she listens, and everything will be fine.
It has to be.
She’s not my first girlfriend, but she’s definitely my favorite. And while I’m not quite sure what love feels like yet, I think I might have those four-letter-feelings for Molly Morrison. And I can only live in hope that the red-haired stranger in Applebee’s hasn’t fucked it all up for me.
CHAPTER4
Justin
(CURRENT DAY)
My shoulders feel like I’m carrying boulders in my muscles, and my lower back hurts like a motherfucker. Downside to feeling all my feels so intensely is that my stress manifests itself in physical pain. Usually right across my shoulders.
Today, I get bonus back pain.
As I walk into the Trashcan—our team’s home rink—for practice, I make a mental note to go see my chiropractor and to get a massage from one of our team trainers. I need it.
Seeing Savannah yesterday sent me down a memory lane I’d hoped to bury and never think about again.
The girl in Applebee’s kissing me.
Getting my ass handed to me by Finn O’Brien.
The stares in the hallways at school.
The days that followed the incident were insufferable. Any street cred I’d built from being best friends with the most notorious kid in school evaporated in a puff of smoke. But those few days paled in comparison to what had happened the following week when Steve Dobbs and his parents showed up at my door accusing me of cheating on a test.
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I force out a breath, but it doesn’t carry any of my tension away with it.
I’d thought that it wouldn’t matter when that douche goblin Steve accused me of plagiarizing his work because my own parents would know I’d never do such a thing, and they’d have my back.
Boy, was I ever wrong.
The truth of the matter was that Steve copied me, and when my boy Johnny caught him looking at my paper, well, I guess Steve thought he’d cut me off at the pass and tell his parents that the reverse was true. Control the narrative.
I thought my parents knew me better. While I wasn’t a straight-A student by any means, I excelled in some subjects, like English, and I worked damn hard for my grades.
I snort and pull the door to the Trashcan toward me. As I step into the rink, my kit bag catches on the door and jerks me back, yanking the air from my body with a grunt. If I can’t even get my ass through the door of the building… Huh. This doesn’t bode well for practice.
Coach is going to have my balls in a fucking vise. And he won’t be afraid to squeeze.
A shudder trickles through me at the thought of getting blasted by our leader. With so many de la Peñas on the team and their family giving so much money to the school, it can’t help but feel like Coach took a risk giving me the C over one of them.
I hope it’s because he sees something in me, qualities becoming of a captain, a leader, someone my teammates trust and respect—and not because he wants to stick it to the twins’ asshole billionaire dad, Alonso de la Peña.
While I go through the motions of getting ready to train, my brain cycles back to a time when I wasn’t so fit, so strong, to a time when my father’s baseless disbelief in my character almost destroyed me.
Pads and shorts on, I tuck my foot into my skate. While things are very different now, in some ways they’re still every bit the same. If it wasn’t for the team, the university covering the cost of my gear, I’d still be wearing Gabe’s hand-me-down skates, and my socks would have holes in the heels and toes.
When my skates are tied, I tug my socks up over my shin guards one more time on both sides. The rest of the team are getting changed around me, but I haven’t spoken to a single person since I arrived, and they’re all giving me a wide berth—maybe myfuck offvibes are strong enough to keep my brothers at bay. Or maybe no one’s noticed my moodiness and they’re all wrapped up in their own shit.
My dad used to always take great joy in reminding me that the world didn’t revolve around me. I mean, he was right, obviously, but some days I think it should. He’s mellowed out as we’ve both grown older, and we’re pretty close these days, but man, those younger years left scars on my heart.
It’s time to shake this off.
