Page 31 of Breakaway Hearts

“Yeah, Owen will make sure of it.”

Again, I cringe.

“He’s one of those?” Jay asks this time, still friendly, but I see the tension in his shoulders. Guys who don’t take no for an answer, especially with a guy like Jason, wouldn’t care what a girl says.

Jeremy goes pale and looks like he’s about to be sick.

“No, shit man, not like that.” He looks around, maybe trying to make sure Owen didn’t hear, or probably to point out how selfless and heroic he’s being today. Not that I’m falling for it. “Owen just cares. Makes you want to show up for him, you know? Like, a few weeks ago coach had us vote on captain, and every single guy in that room wanted Owen.”

Jason nods, but his face says that doesn’t really exonerate him, it just fits the profile of someone who gets whatever he wants.

“He had no idea. Wasn’t even in the room because he was still on the ice helping a rookie work on his puck handling. He’s one of those.” He looks over to where I know Owen is, but I don’t follow this time. “Coach announced it the other day, and he should have been all stoked like we were, but one asshole says he doesn’t deserve it and now Owen’s in his head, like getting us a goalie will prove his worth or something.”

“What asshole?” Jay asks, because he knows I want to.

“He’s not really an asshole. Just a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Point is, Owen’s awesome, the team’s great, and I would love to have you watching my back for once, but if you’re not into it, don’t worry. Owen’s not the type to make you, or to let on that you could have been our savior. That’s more my issue, but in my defense, you’ve been my archnemesis since freshman year of high school.”

“I always enjoyed the challenge you brought. Kept me on my toes.”

“Fuck, you won’t even let me have that.”

“It’s just a game,” Jason assures him.

“Not in a mean way, but that’s how I know you never played D1,” Jeremy shares before a group comes up and he has to take care of them instead of talking to us.

I want to latch onto Jay’s comment, as if it proves hockey isn’t that big a deal anymore, but his smile is tight, both like he wishes he was D1, and it isn’t really ‘just a game’. Not to say Jay holds a grudge and curses every player who scored on him, but he clearly remembers.

“Shall we crash some cars?” I suggest to escape my guilt, but there’s a look on Jay’s face I don’t like, even as he nods.

I used to love bumper cars, trying to drive around as long as I possibly could without getting hit, which Jay made very difficult. Today, he enlists every kid in there’s help to chase me into corners before convincing them to turn on him, which is entirely for my benefit, so I don’t get whiplash.

We stay multiple rounds, and I think every little girl is in love. Possibly some little dudes as well.

I’m ready to leave after our funnel cake. We’ve done most of the activities, and the hockey players are closing their stations, but one of the kids who followed us around and convinced Jay to give her half his funnel cake asks, “Are you playing too?”

His face drops, and I instantly know that if a child asks him to join the hockey team, he will, but I notice the schedules posted around that boast ‘the ultimate dodgeball game’ before the closing ceremony.

Without waiting for Jason’s answer, the girl takes his hand and brings him to a field where the players, and most of the attendees have gathered. Someone suggests adults vs. kids, but they are quickly overruled, especially when Jay isn’t the only giant with a small child attached to their arm. Not that I’m paying attention, but Owen has a girl on his back, a boy holding his hand, and one of each wrapped around his legs, acting more like they’re the opposition, because it can’t be easy to move with them, but he not only manages, he either avoids, or catches every ball aimed at his little parasites. And they clearly love him. Which is adorable. But it’s also the kind of fallacy we use to let them get away with it. The whole, “Well, he was never like that with me.” It means nothing. We wear different masks with different people. And even then, Trevor was never like that with me either. Until he was.

I switch to focus on Jay, who has a crowd behind him, defending them like he does the net, but he keeps forgetting he can’t just deflect the balls like he would a puck, which leads to very impressive maneuvers the kids, and a lot of the more age-appropriate women, notice. Moms I assume are from the shelter, but also a lot of fellow students who are quite obviously checking out the guys. I must look like one of them, because my eyes are trained on the hockey players, waiting for one of them to do something to justify not trusting them.

So far, they haven’t. And it’s not that I want them to hurt anyone, but it’s better for everyone if I can see it now and stop it before they get some poor girl somewhere on her own. I hate how Owen is entirely focused on the kids, as if he doesn’t even notice the women. Except the moms, who all look at him with such fondness, probably because every child in his vicinity is laughing like they haven’t a care in the world, which isn’t what you would expect at a shelter. Though I guess this is also a carnival.

“Did you see us killing it?” Jason asks while driving us home.

“You were amazing,” I assure him.

“It was so much fun, Maddie. You should play next time.”

I nod, but just the idea of putting myself in the middle of a group of guys makes me want to break out in hives.

“It looked like it.” I swallow before bringing up, “You and the team got along.”

“I mostly interacted with the kids.” Jason’s still smiling, but he’s defensive.

“I wasn’t calling you out on it, just observing. I like seeing you happy.”

“Right back at you.” He raises his eyebrows at me.