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“Ah, she’s busy. Got it.”
“I know I haven’t been around at all lately, okay? Don’t be a dick about it. Let’s go get dinner, and you can catch me up on all of your latest hookups.”
Excluding Rylan, there’s nothing to tell.
I stand, pulling on a sweatshirt before grabbing my phone and wallet. “I’ve been focusing on hockey,” I tell him.
Conor nods, turning serious as we head downstairs. “It’s paying off, man. This is the best I’ve ever seen you play.”
There’s the same twist in my stomach whenever anyone has complimented me about hockey recently. But it’s less panicked than it used to be. Maybe I’m getting better at playing under pressure after several games with expectations.
Expectations I’ve exceeded, even.
“Thanks. Is Hunter coming?”
“Nah, he’s got a study thing for one of his classes.”
I nod. “You driving?”
He usually prefers to, because of his weird issue with my truck’s color. “You can, if you want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. As long as we go somewhere at least an hour away, so no one sees me riding around in the Eyesore.”
I roll my eyes as I head into the kitchen and fish my keys out of the pocket of my hockey jacket. “We’re getting burgers at Gaffney’s. I haven’t eaten there in a while.”
“Okay, fine,” Conor agrees.
I missed hanging out with my best friend. I think this is his way of telling me he missed me, too.
Once we’re in my truck headed toward downtown, he asks, “How’s that going, by the way?”
“How’s what going?”
“The tutoring. You’ve skipped the past four wing nights. Can’t you do it another night? It’s messing with team morale. Table’s too quiet without you.”
I snort. Now I know he missed me. “No, I can’t move it. She’s busy.”
“Busyeveryother night except Tuesday?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. I don’t know. She’s helping me. I don’t want to be an inconvenience, or whatever.”
A beat of silence. “Phillips, you fucking love being an inconvenience. It’s your way or the wrong way.”
“Well, maybe I’m evolving.”
“Evolving…like finally talking about whatever’s been bothering you the past few months?”
My hands briefly tighten on the steering wheel.
I should be grateful to have friends who care so much.
And I am. Conor and Hunter are brothers to me in a way Jameson never has been or will be. Even before all the shit withParker, we were never close. We bickered like siblings as kids, then grew up to fight like enemies. As much as Parker’s betrayal stung, it was a paper cut in comparison to the knife in the back from my brother. He’s never asked for my forgiveness, but I doubt I’ll be able to offer any if he ever does.
“Remember my older brother?” I ask. “He showed up in Vail?”
“Yeah, of course.”
