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I’ve never worked harder for anything in my life than a scrap of Rylan Keller’s attention, and maybe that’s my whole damn problem.
I wouldn’t want to hook up with a lazy underachiever either.
Although my track record is pretty good where the hooking up part is concerned, so I doubt that’s why she hasn’t responded.
I’ve just started dozing off when my phone buzzes on my chest. It’s another painful process to lift it up.
I wish that I’d taken Coach up on his offer to leave practice early right about now. I feel like I got hit by a truck and my ribs look like they did. I had a nasty collision with Williams earlier—bad timing when neither of us were looking—and I took the worst of it, right in the same spot that Pierce knocked a few weeks ago.
Unfortunately, it’s not Rylan answering.
It’s my mom calling.
I debate not picking up, but that’ll only earn me a lecture from my dad in the next voicemail he leaves.
My phone has been mercifully absent of calls from family members since Jameson’s engagement party, but I know that’ll change as the wedding creeps closer.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, honey, I wasn’t sure you’d answer. You must be so busy with your final semester.”
I tamp down the snort that wants to come out. “Hockey practice just ended and the kegger I’m hosting doesn’t start for an hour. You caught me at the perfect time.”
Her sigh is exasperated. “Aidan.”
“What’s up, Mom?” I shift, flinching when the cold pack brushes a bit of unnumbed skin.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I hardly saw you during your visit.”
“So you waitedtwo weeksto call me?”
Another sigh. One that will result in my father chastising me for upsetting my mother and Jameson gloating about having favorite child in the bag.
“I’m fine, Mom. My classes are going well.”
For once, it’s not a lie. The worse I’ve scored on one of Professor Carrigan’s assignments is an eighty-six. I’m carrying allBs and one A in my other classes, my new studiousness paying off across the board.
“What about hockey?”
I’m…stunned. My mom has made it clear on multiple occasions how she views hockey as a low form of entertainment. Nothing more than grown men running into each other on ice for fun.
“Hockey’s…good,” I say cautiously.
“We were thinking of coming to the championship game.”
I’m so surprised, it takes me a good minute to respond. “InCleveland?”
Each year, the NCAA chooses a neutral location for all college championship games to take place. This year the Division III matchup is set to take place in Cleveland, Ohio. Even if the game were taking place in LA, I wasn’t expecting my family to come. Seeing as they’veneverattended a Holt hockey game.
“Right. Cleveland, yes.”
“We might not make it that far,” I tell her. “There are two more rounds to get through first.”
Two rounds my ribs might not let me play in. Thank God we only have a film session tomorrow.
“Well, if you do, we’ll be there.”
“Who’swe?” I ask, increasingly suspicious.
