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“What? Cat got your tongue?”
Her eyes narrowed with disappointment, but her wrath barely touched the ice around my heart. “Well,” she said. “I can see I made a mistake.”
“Damn right, you did. Now run along. I’m sure you’ll find one of the other guys willing to pity fuck you tonight.”
The words were out before I could stop them, but I saw the second they landed. Harper sucked in a sharp breath, visibly wincing at my insinuation.
“Shit, Harper, I—”
“Forget it,Steele,” she threw back at me. “I think I got the message. Don’t worry. Consider this the last time I will ever speak a word to you.”
She turned and melted into the crowd, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth.
I hadn’t meant to be quite so cruel, but she was everything I didn’t have the time or energy for. And the truth was, I had no desire to hang out or get to know her, even if she was my guy’s girl’s bestie.
Girls like Harper had headache written all over them.
And I had enough of those to last me a lifetime.
* * *
I ducked out of the bar before things got too messy. No one noticed. Not that I was surprised. Everyone was too high on the win. Of the season ahead. The possibilities. The chance to redeem ourselves after crashing out of the Frozen Four tournament last season.
The truth was, I was tired.
Bone-deep weary, and it was only two weeks into the season.
Fuck.
I inhaled a sharp breath, letting the frigid October air fill my lungs as I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked the short way home to Lakers House.
As it loomed up ahead, I remembered first arriving at LU. I’d been so fucking ready to move out and into a frat house full of hockey players. To finally have my own space and live my own life.
And it was good for a little while.
Until the guilt kicked in.
Until I realized I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t be here pretending that life back home in Pittsburgh was fine—that my mom and Scottie weren’t struggling.
It’s how I ended up spending seventy percent of my time here and thirty percent of my time there. They needed me, and I was determined to be there for them.
Even if my mom fought me on it.
The house was steeped in darkness as I walked up to the door, the rest of the team still at the bar celebrating. I let myself in and headed into the big open-plan kitchen, helping myself to a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
For a frat house, it was surprisingly clean and tidy, thanks to a couple of the guys who were neat freaks. They got two of the best rooms in the house, and in return, we got a couple of in-house cleaners. Not that I was a slob; I wasn’t.
I’d helped Mom around the house for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t easy for her to raise Scottie alone, so I’d always tried to do what I could to lighten her load.
On the way up to my room, I checked my phone. It was too late to text Scottie, and I’d already checked in with Mom. I knew they watched my games when they could. If they weren’t streamed live, Scottie would tune in to the radio to catch the updates.
His obsession with all things Lakers knew no bounds.
God, I fucking loved that kid, and I missed him something fierce.
My phone chimed, and I half-expected to see his name—it wasn’t unusual for him to struggle to stay asleep, even with his medication.
But it wasn’t Scottie.
