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It started following me around in November, when Jameson proposed to Parker. When I realized the shit between my brother and my ex wasn’t just sticking around, it was becoming permanent. And got worse when I realized my dad’s lectures had a kernel of truth to them. Jameson is only eighteen months older than I am. He’s got a job track that will lead all the way to future CEO and he’s got the wife lined up. His entire life—personal and professional—is decided.
There’s no part of me that wants my whole life mapped out that way.
But it’s emphasized how blank my future is. Not only lacking direction, butanypaths at all.
“Big plans tonight?” Cole Smith asks as I take a seat in front of my locker to unlace my skates. His is right next to mine. “I heard last night was pretty wild.”
“My big plans are to sleep.”
Cole laughs. “With who?”
“An ice pack, probably. Pierce fucked up my ribs.”
“Sorry, Phillips,” Andy calls from across the room.
The kid sounds genuinely remorseful, so I resist the urge to flip him off.
Not Pierce’s fault I’m slow and unfocused.
I finish pulling off my gear and head for the showers.
Holt’s athletic facilities are not what anyone could call new or luxurious with a straight face, but they’re clean and well-maintained. The white tile is scrubbed so clean that it gleams under the overhead lights as I find an open stall. The plastic dividers are a half-hearted attempt at privacy, since you can see right into them and most of us walk to and from the showersnaked. The humid air dampens everything, so it’s not worth wearing or carrying clothes in here unless you want to change twice.
I rinse off, soaping my hair and watching the white suds wash down the drain before shutting off the water and grabbing a clean towel.
The school must have bought some new ones, because they’re less threadbare than they used to be.
I rub it through my hair, wrap it around my waist, then head back into the main section of the locker room. A lot of the guys have left, my chat with Coach slowing my post-practice progress down.
I check my phone, my stomach hollowing when I see the new voicemail fromDo Not Answer.
I press play and tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pull on a clean pair of sweats. Might as well see if there’s any variety in his pestering.
“Aidan, it’s your father. I’m very disappointed by your behavior. Your brother’s engagement party is only a couple of weeks away and I expect you to—”
Nope.
I pause the message, then delete it and toss my phone into my hockey bag.
My dad doesn’t need to worry I’ll show up and cause a scene. All I want is to get in and out of there as quickly as possible. The only reason my family cares about me showing up is that my absence would be noticed, and they don’t want to have to answer any questions about it.
“You failed a class?”
I turn toward Conor’s voice, belatedly realizing it’s just me, him, and Hunter left in the locker room.
I glare at Hunter. “Way to keep your mouth shut, Morgan.”
He shrugs. “Hart asked me what your meeting with Coach was about. I hate lying.”
I shouldn’t have mentioned my meeting with Coach in front of Conor.
I figured Coach was trying out something new, talking to all the seniors before playoffs start or something. Had I known the real reason, I wouldn’t have mentioned anything about the meeting to him or Hunter. I already had to deal with Morgan’s judgy eyebrows when I went out last night. Now I’ll get disapproval from Hart too.
“Don’t blame Hunter,” Conor says. “He toldme, not the entire campus. And I should know, as your captain.”
I scoff.
“And best friend,” he adds.
