Page 84 of Best Man on Campus

“She’s someone I need to forgive.”

“We’ll work on that. We have time.” He reaches over and takes my hand. His is so big, so strong and he squeezes my hand without hurting me, just to let me know he cares. I’ll never get used to it, never take his caring for granted. Today instead of pulling my hand from his, I squeeze his hand back. Instead of smiling back at him, I look out the window, still plenty of chicken shit in me.

We go to Killian’s grave and I wish I was brave and smart, but as soon as I say good-bye I cry and yell and scream and kick at the grave stone so long and hard that I ruin a perfectly good pair of boots. Bennie holds me and practically has to drag me away.

I’m a mess in the car on the way back, mystified at the violence when I shouldn’t be and fucking embarrassed that I fell apart so thoroughly.

“Guess I have a long way to go,” I finally say when we’re close to campus.

“I thought you did well considering. But…” he pauses. I nudge him.

“You may want to give Dr. Dani a call.”

I smack him in the shoulder, not hard enough to make him swerve off the road, but enough to register my dismay. Only, I’ll probably do it because he’s probably right, the fucking jerk.

Chapter 23

Ben

When dad greets me at the door, the second thing he says to me is, “What did you do about NYU Medical School?”

“Stop. Don’t bother him about that,” Mom says, gentle in her scolding.

Jazzy squeezes my hand until Mom sweeps her into a hug and we walk inside my parents’ home, my childhood home. A flash of unease passes through me. I got into NYU Medical School, Dad’s alma mater and he can’t resist the tug of legacy, I can see the light of hope in his eyes.

“I sent my letter today, requesting a deferment.”

He nods, his smile faltering a fraction and then he says, “Of course. You had to do it. You’ll be a professional hockey player as of tonight.”

“That’s the hope.” He’s been forced to stop work at his practice, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to go back. Recovery for him is going to be a long-ass haul, but he’s dealing with it, learning to appreciate new and different ways to be useful and engaged in life. Like being my cheerleader.

We sit in the great room and mom bounces from her spot each time the doorbell rings as Stone, Kace arrive and then Majik is last barely in time to watch the start of the NHL Draft on TV. I could have gone in person, but they were only going to give me two tickets, so I sent my agent without me.

Kace and Stone sit front and center with the humongous TV. Mom makes sure we all have drinks and Jazzy is the only one who refuses the champagne, opting for ice water.

“I hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course not honey. I don’t mind as long as this doesn’t mean you’re pregnant?”

Jazzy spits the water from her mouth, sputtering and I laugh so hard I can’t catch my breath. Majik smiles. Stone shushes me.

“You got her good, Mom. Don’t remember the last time I saw jazzy stunned.”

She elbows me and says, “You don’t have to ever worry about me getting pregnant.” The final tone of her voice shuts me up and Mom nods.

Kace says, “They’re starting. Who wants to get me Ben goes in the top ten?”

“I’m never betting against the unicorn again,” Jazzy says. I only need to one shot to learn that lesson.”

Stone grabs the remote and turns up the volume as the first draft pick is called. The right winger out of Minnesota. I’m not surprised. He’s in the audience and says a few words and they move onto the next pick. It’s not me, of course and in spite of Kace and Jazzy’s confidence, I’m not so sure I’ll be chosen in the top ten or even the first round. Our team won the Frozen Four championship, but it was truly a team win.

“I bet Stone is drafted ahead of me,” I say. He gives me the finger and I say, “What? It’s true—”

The announcers drone on and Mom says, “I don’t know how much of this I can take. This has to be the most nerve-racking process ever invented. Pure torture.”

“I know, right?” Jazzy says. The two women hold hands then, but Jazzy squeezes my thigh with her other hand, tightening fist with each pick.

Halfway through the first round, I’m about to get up and pace the floor or maybe to out back and puke over the deck rail, when the New York Islanders come up. My agent told me they were one of the four teams interested in me. The announcer bellows out the call in a loud voice.