Page 93 of Breakaway Hearts

“I know, I just⁠—”

“We didn’t forget her, and she said she’d try to come to a game next week, but we all know Noah’s in town, so it’s not likely. I’m sure she’ll make up for it.”

I was stoked when Noah instituted Team Dinners. A lot of the guys were apprehensive if not downright opposed, either because they’d never done it before or had unpleasant memories of family dinners, but I was driving to Sarah’s as often as realistically made sense because I missed that. I grew up in a family where unless you had plans outside the house, you were at the table for 6 p.m., no phones, talking about your day.

And you’d better not make other plans on Sundays.

The rookies instinctively start picking up plates. We don’t use them to do our bidding the way a frat would, but there is a little friendly hazing, where they have to pick up the cones and pucks after practice, take turns manning the door at team parties…it would work better if the rest of us didn’t also help out, but teamwork makes the dream work.

“It’s family dinner style,” Mike explains to Vale, who’s had tutoring every Sunday so far, and according to Coach, will probably miss a lot more dinners than he attends. “Everyone helps, except whoever made the meal, who gets to sit back and tell us what to do.” He winks at me while Vale looks like that is not at all how dinner works in his family, but Jason checks his watch and balks at the time before grabbing up dirty dishes like it’s the ten second cleanup.

“Everything okay?” I ask when he comes for mine. I don’t normally sit out, no matter how much of the cooking I did, but I’m getting the feeling this might be my chance.

“I’m supposed to pick Maddie up at the diner in fifteen minutes,” he says. “It’s fine though.”

“The one on Oak?” I verify.

“You can head out,” Dave assures him.

“It’s fine, she can wait,” Jason repeats, but he still looks concerned as he hurries more than the others. I can’t be sure, but from what little I know of Madison, I think it’s because she can wait, but she won’t. It’s a twenty-minute walk, mostly across campus…but it’ll be dark before the end of it, and I doubt he wants that. I definitely don’t.

“You can totally head out if you want,” I reiterate Dave’s offer. “Or I can go get her for you,” I suggest like I’d be doing him a favor. “Grab eggs on my way back,” I add, which works because we all watched Dave discover Colt forgot to buy more when there are only two left, and he’s making omelets tomorrow.

“I’m not sure she’d⁠—”

“I can bring her back here if she wants, it’s like a five-minute drive, I don’t have dishes duty, and I can’t do calculus to save my life.” I finally remember why Vale looks as invested in whether Jason is leaving to get Maddie as I am.

“We can go over it another time,” Vale offers, but he looks worried.

“If she kills you…” Jay says, just to me, as I’m grabbing my keys from the hook.

“I’ll have brought it upon myself,” I assure him.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Madison

If the boy’s offering…

“My cholesterol is fine, Madison, I asked about you.”

“I’m also fine,” I assure my grandfather with a teasing smile he rolls his eyes at. “Some of my classes are a lot harder than I thought, but I’m just studying harder to make sure I do well in them.”

I managed to make it through an entire dinner with masterful evasion and deflection whenever he asked something I didn’t want to answer, like who I’m dating, or what I’m doing for fun. Luckily, he likes to tie everything to his own life experiences, and I could listen to his stories forever.

“Jason’s good as well?” I can’t tell if he’s fishing about us or accusing him. At least he hasn’t asked about Trevor, which honestly, I think is because he’s forgotten his name.

“He’s killing it, like always.” I want to tell him he joined the hockey team, because I’d rather talk about Jason than me, but I don’t think I’m good enough at acting unaffected whenever hockey is mentioned. Or teams and players. I’m always in a state of ‘get over it already!’ wrestling with ‘what the hell are you doing? Escape! Escape!’ Constantly on edge, and I can’t wait to get to the point where growth no longer makes me want to throw up.

“No boyfriend, you say?” Granddad has a knowing smile, which makes no sense, until I turn around and see Owen, who must have spotted the back of my head because he’s making his way to us with a dumb smile on his face, that gets even bigger when he catches my eye.

“Fuck,” I say, wishing I’d sunken into the booth instead of turning around at my grandfather’s statement.

“Madison,” Granddad reproaches my language, but he’s smiling like they just brought out surprise birthday cake.

I have about a split second to decide if I should ignore or get rid of him.

“Owen!” I say in false surprise, but my eyes hopefully convey that this is not okay. Which I think works, because his smile drops. “Granddad, this is Jason’s friend, Owen,” I introduce.