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ALASTAIR

Things are heating up with hockey season now, and November is officially here.

Sticking my hands deep in the pockets of my sweats, I begin walking to a cafe in downtown Santa Barbara. Coach told me to get my ass to breakfast this morning, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m dressed down, but I doubt he’ll care. If he planned to introduce me to someone, he’d have warned me.

The leaves on the trees are turning pretty shades of reds and oranges, and I decide to procrastinate by enjoying the walk to the cafe in case I’m looking at a verbal tongue lashing by Coach Helm.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a hard-ass and an amazing coach, but I never know what I’m going to get with him. He’s been trying not to ride my ass about my next steps after senior year, which I appreciate. It’s simply that nothing feels right yet.

The bus of opportunity is going to leave me behind if I don’t figure out my shit. Ci is going to college, Draven is being pulled into professional hockey through a college route, yet I don’t know where that leaves me. I’ve always been the leader in our group, and now I feel like I’m at loose ends.

The option closest to my friends is to play at Arizona State, but I’m not sold on it. I feel as if it’s really far still and also hot as fuck there.

Feeling grumpy and a bit dejected, I open the cafe’s door and slink in. Glancing around, I immediately notice Coach Helm sitting at a booth but I’m also distracted by a child squealing. Looking for the sound, I find that the Dentons are having brunch here, and their family is huge.

No matter what I do, we continue to cross paths.

Noor’s hair is curly and wild today. She has on a little makeup, and is wearing a cropped t-shirt over a long sleeved mesh shirt with a pair of black cargo jeans and boots. It suits her better than the prep school clothing ever did, and I suck my bottom lip in as I stare at her.

An older Latino man clears his throat across from her, his eyes glaring at me when he sees who my interest is focused on. Fuck, I think I’m on that entire family’s shit list. He looks a lot like the guy who held me at gunpoint, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re father and son.

Not wanting any of them to walk over to me, I cross the cafe to sit across from Coach Helm.

“Good morning, sir,” I say politely, taking the menu that he pushes across to me.

“I ordered you the pancakes,” he states, making my lips twitch.

“I love pancakes so that works,” I reply, putting the menu away.

The waitress bustles over with food, and I realize he’s been here for a while. Damn, the man is definitely not fucking around. He’s very focused on respecting everyone’s time and the cafe is busy.

I appreciate not having to wait or make small talk. He’s gruff, often jokes we’re going to make him lose his hair early, and he never had kids.

Instead, we’re his kids, and he treats us exactly like that.

“Thanks, Patrice,” Coach says, watching as she also sets glasses of orange juice and water in front of me. “We should be good for a while.”

“Of course,” she says, hustling away.

“Thanks for breakfast,” I say preemptively, digging in. He’ll say his peace when he’s ready.

“You’re welcome,” he says, amused as he begins to eat.

It’s quiet for a while with the sounds of the cafe surrounding us. I’m not going to start a conversation I don’t know the direction to. I’ll people watch instead.

Noor has a little girl in her lap with blonde hair, who appears to be talking Noor’s ear off. What’s funny is she doesn’t seem to mind, and laughs at something the little girl says.

I saw the flyer Ci created based on Noor’s files. The contents turned my stomach, the idea she was a kid when she was hurt the way she was is terrifying. He won’t show me any of the other shit he dug up, but that’s just as well. I’m getting too emotionally involved for my own good.

The Dentons’ are probably one of the safest places she’s had, and I tried to fuck it up.

Sometimes, I hate being my father’s puppet. Graduating college, figuring out where I’ll go after this, will help me get out from under his control.

“Alastair,” Coach Helm says, pulling my attention back.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, turning toward him.

“I know you’re looking at different options for after your senior year, but I have a feeling you’re not happy with them. Am I right?”