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ZEKE: Okay, I’ll be there.
26
faye
The party started hours ago,and yet I’m distinctly alone. The only person I invited who has arrived thus far is Lule. She handed me a bottle of Stoli and bee-lined for the flip-cup tournament happening in the backyard. I haven’t seen her since.
And now the sun is down, my arms are chilled, my beer is warm, and I’m alone, watching the festivities spill into the street from our front porch. I let Aly talk me into this yellow sundress and I let Caro do her winged eyeliner thing. I don’t know where Aly ran off to. I saw her hot chef arrive with his friends and haven’t seen her since. And Caro is—oh, right there. Holding a sparkler.
That’s my cue. Sparklers sort of terrify me. Instead, I get a fresh IPA, wrap a blanket around my shoulders and go to the backyard, heading for the empty bench swing where it’s quiet and I can see the sky.
I miss the stars. There’s nothing like the sky in rural Vermont. It’s so inky black and you can actually see white-washed streaks of the Milky Way. Here, it’s different, fainter, dirtier. But it doesn’t pretend to be anything it’s not. I don’t mind Portland skies.
“Anyone sitting here?” a low, warm voice says. Freddy stands in front of me, leaning on a crutch. His leg is still in a hard brace but he’s getting around easily.
“You came,” I say, smiling. I scoot over on the bench and hold it still as he turns and lowers himself.
“Of course,” he says. “Sorry we’re late.”
I follow his gaze toward the back stoop where Pasha and Lule are wildly gesticulating. Just as I’m afraid one might knock the other’s drink from their hands, Zeke pushes through the back door. His eyes meet mine and I wave. He nods, his jaw tense.
“Everything okay?” I ask, frowning at his expression.
“Yeah,” Freddy says, settling his crutch against the front post. “Just got a late start.”
“Better late than never.”
“What did I miss?” he asks, studying Pasha and Lule.
“Honestly? I’m not sure. She is freakishly good at flip cup, and this is the first time I’ve seen her away from the competition. I’m still not sure what happened after the cornhole tournament.”
“Team Iceman, reunited at last,” he says with a good-natured chuckle. It’s a nice laugh. It doesn’t warm me the same way Zeke’s howling laugh does. But then, it’s only a laugh.
“I applied to Portland University,” he says. He sounds a little nervous. As if my reaction means something.
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
He rubs his knuckles at the side of his jaw. “I got in.”
“That’s fantastic! Congratulations!” I nudge his shoulder with mine.
“Thanks. I think I’m going to help with the men’s hockey team.”
“That would be amazing,” I say. But then I frown. “Wait, what does this mean about the Ptarmigans?”
He shrugs one shoulder but doesn’t answer immediately.
“You know what I’m dealing with. Maybe better than anyone. Do you know many athletes who come back from a compound fracture of the tibia?”
I let out a heavy sigh, feeling what I’m sure is only a fraction of the disappointment he’s feeling.
“You’re not coming back, are you?”
He shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. Zeke is still watching us from the stoop, a frown marring his forehead as Pasha and Lule continue to argue next to him.
