Chapter Eleven
There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to justify Gus being on the ice at seven a.m. It took about a half hour for him to gear up, fifteen minutes to drive to the arena, a ten minute well-check on Mom, which I promised I’d finish after practice, and a half-hour drive to Mom’s house to pick up Gus. That had me getting up at five on a Saturday morning and forsaking my morning run. The alteration in my schedule had my skin crawling, but Gus was worth the adjustment.
The seven minute pit stop at Starbucks made this possible. No caffeine, no wakey. That’s how my body worked.
I finished tightening his skates, kissed his curls, and sent him to the ice with a playful swat on his backside. “Go get ’em, Tiger!”
“Ha! Never heard that one,” he threw back.
Two more weeks of the season and then playoffs. I could keep this up for that long. Besides, even though Mom had been awake, she hadn’t really been there. Fake smile, fake laugh, but real pancakes. One day off from Sunday, but the effort was there, and much appreciated. I hesitated to hope that she was getting better, but maybe if I carried her just a little further, she’d come back to us for real.
My mocha warmed my hands as my backside absorbed the chill from the steel bleachers. I nodded to the two blond girls I’d seen here last week and attempted not to let my eyes bug out of my head at what Tweedledee and Tweedledum were wearing. It was way too freaking early to show that much cleavage at a kids’ hockey game. I kind of hoped they froze their assets off. I squashed my mean thoughts and searched the coaches, but Josh wasn’t here, yet. It wasn’t like him to be late when hockey was involved.
I took my book out of my bag and went back to studying my mind-numbing childhood education texts. If I could knock this out this morning, I had the rest of the weekend to indulge in my history reading.
Every few pages, I lifted my head, telling myself I was checking on Gus. I was really looking for Josh. Maybe I should have apologized for what happened last night, but look how that apology turned out. If I tried to say I’m sorry now, I would probably start humping his leg like a horny dog.
“I guess no Walker brownie points today,” one of the Tweedle twins muttered behind me.
I locked my gaze on Gus, refusing to turn around and blatantly stare at the stalkers behind me. It didn’t stop me from listening, though.
“I know.” Tweedledum sighed. “Totally makes getting up so damn early a waste of time if we can’t go out to breakfast with him.”
“I guess we could take Jagger out,” Tweedledee muttered. I hadn’t noticed before that Jagger coached with Josh.
“You’ve already slept with Jagger.”
“Only because Josh wasn’t interested.”
I sputtered, nearly sending coffee out my nose.
“Yeah, he’s been kinda off for the last few weeks, you know? He’s turning everyone down.” Tweedledum sounded annoyed. “And sorry, but Jagger may be hot, but he’s no Josh.”
He was turning down everyone. I bit back my smile and tried to tune out of their conversation and focus on my work when Gus wasn’t on the ice. By the time the game was over, he’d scored one goal and had an assist for the win. Each time, he’d pointed to me in the stands like such a big man. I was so proud of him.
Dad would have been proud of him, too.
The familiar ache settled in my chest. The pain wasn’t lessening; it was still sharp at moments and dull at others, but it was sinking in my heart, making room for other things, too. I had room to smile at Gus’s goal, to find joy in his grin.
I blew him a kiss after the team fell on each other in a melee of black and gold. He needed this. Hell, I needed this.
Gus waved at me, but it was Jagger who faked receiving the kiss and blew one back. I couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of me.
It didn’t go unnoticed by the Tweedle twins.
“Hey, you, Red!” Tweedledum shouted down to me.
I gathered what composure I had and turned. “Yes?”
“Was Jagger Bateman kissing at you?” Her eyes narrowed and her lips turned in an insulted sneer. Great.
I took a deep breath. This was how those crazy hockey-parent YouTube clips started. “I’m his next-door neighbor. He was just goofing around. I’m sorry, is he your boyfriend?” I damn well knew the answer to that one.
Did she flush? “No, I just know him.” Her voice dropped suggestively. “Really well.”
The other girl narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, and I’m really close to Josh, his roommate.”
What. A. Bitch. “Ah, well, to me he’s just my neighbor and my little brother’s hockey coach. Which one is your brother?”
Now they both flushed scarlet. “We just come to support the team.”
“Yeah,” I dropped my gaze at their exposed cleavage and raised my eyebrows. “Those puppies definitely need all the support they can get at seven a.m.”
The kids cleared off to the locker room, and Jagger motioned me over. “See you later, girls. Don’t catch a cold!” I snagged my bag and empty tumbler as I hopped off the bleachers. I couldn’t get away from them fast enough.
“What’s up?” I asked Jagger as he waited by the locker room doors. “Gus okay?”
He gave me a killer smile, but it didn’t make me want to strip him naked and pounce the way Josh’s smile did. Good to know I was discerning with my horniness. “Yeah, he was a star out there today. Just wanted to tell you he lost a snap when he took off his helmet, so just in case he forgets to tell you, he needs that fixed before practice on Monday.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Jagger.” He might have been all jokes and smiles, but I liked that he was serious when it came to the kids.
“No problem.” He leaned back against the wall, changing gears. “I know you’re really here for Gus, but you’re here for Josh, too, huh?”
There was no point lying to Josh’s roommate. I nodded my head slightly. “Pathetic, I know.”
“He’s different around you,” he admitted, looking at me through assessing eyes.
“He’s different around every girl!” Tweedledee sang, popping over. “Hiya, Jagger.”
Jagger smiled at the girls, “Heather, Sophie, nice to see you.” Darn, now I knew their names. I liked my version better.
Wait one second. Heather? Was she the one texting Josh?
“So where’s Josh?” Heather, aka Tweedledum, asked.
“Yeah, did he go and disappear again?” Tweedledee, Sophie, chimed in.
“He’s busy this weekend.” Jagger shot me a look I couldn’t interpret. “Ember, I’m sure I’ll see you around. Gus should be out in a sec. Don’t forget about the helmet, okay?”
I nodded to him, keeping my breathing even and my back to the girls who laid obvious claims to the boys next door.
“You know Josh disappears every few weeks, right?” Heather asked me, stepping into my vision. “Not that you’d need to know the schedule of your . . . neighbor.” She looked me up and down and then smirked like my jeans and zip-up Tigers fleece weren’t good enough for her.
Sophie chimed in. “Every few weeks he just needs to . . . go blow off some steam.”
“Yeah, like with a new girl,” Heather muttered under her breath, but I heard her. She meant me to.
I’d never been so thankful to see sweat-covered curls as I was when Gus came out of the locker room. “Ember! Did you see that rockin’ goal?”
I took his stick, but he was picky about carrying his own gear. “Yeah, you’re a star!”
“Ladies.” Gus gave the girls the head nod. He’d been spending too much time with Josh.
“See you next stalking opportunity?” I asked with a sweet smile. They glared, and we walked out. “I think this victory deserves donuts!”
“Score!”
Forty-five minutes later, armed with mochachinos and a dozen donuts, we made it home. I juggled the coffees while Gus manhandled the donuts, but they made it in the door surprisingly in one piece. Mom and Grams sat at the dining room table. Mom gave us a forced smile as we came in.
Gus slid the donuts onto the table and didn’t bother getting a napkin or washing his hands before he stuffed a chocolate-glazed into his mouth. He was always famished after games.
“How was the game?” Mom asked me, gawking at his face.
“Great, they won, three to one, and Gus scored a goal and an assist.” I handed out the coffees, leaving April’s in the holder. She probably wouldn’t be up for hours, but at least she wouldn’t bitch that I’d forgotten her on the coffee run.
“Good job!” Grams cheered.
Gus wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Thanks, Grams! Mom, do you think you can come next week? It’s parents weekend and our last game before playoffs.”
Her smile faltered, and I almost jumped in for her. “We’ll see how this week goes, okay?”
No one mentioned that she hadn’t left the house since the funeral.
“Cool!” He reached for the box again, and Mom snapped the lid shut.
“Not until you shower the stink off you and put your sweaty duds in the hamper, mister.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled, but headed for the laundry room and back stairs.
She’d disciplined him. She’d cared. She’d noticed something outside herself for real, no faking. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as I slipped into my seat. Flanked by Grams and Mom, the heaviness eased, like some of the weight I’d been carrying was lifted off my soul.
The phone went and wrecked it while I was mid-Boston-cream bite. “Hello?” I swallowed, hoping I didn’t sound too garbled.
“December? This is Captain Wilson.”
I knew it was routine, and he was just checking up on us, but my stomach still plummeted. There wasn’t a single pleasant event I could associate with that man. “What’s up, Captain Wilson?”
Mom’s head snapped to attention, her gaze burning into me.
“Some things came in for you. Would it be okay if I dropped them off in about fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah, no problem. See you in a few.” We hung up, and I looked to Mom. “Captain Wilson will be here in about fifteen minutes. He has a few things to give us.”
Panic walked in and sat on my chest. I swallowed with difficulty. What was so important that it couldn’t wait until Monday? Papers? More insurance work?
“How kind of him to give up his Saturday morning,” Grams commented when Mom couldn’t.
I didn’t want to know.
I pushed back from the table and headed upstairs to wake April. I swung open her door, and the scent of alcohol and vomit assaulted me. “Holy shit.” I covered my nose with the sleeve of my fleece and shook my sister’s still-dressed body. “April, wake up.”
She mumbled incoherently and dug deeper into her nest of blankets. I tried again, gently moving her shoulders. Then she breathed on me, and I almost wished I hadn’t moved her.
Death. She smelled like death that had been rolled in crap and a bottle of Cuervo. I grabbed ahold of her covers and yanked back with one hard pull, leaving her sputtering. “What the f*ck, Ember!”
“Get your ass up and into the shower! Captain Wilson is on his way, and Mom is going to need us.” I threw her blankets into the hamper. They smelled suspiciously like puke.
“Give me back my blankets and leave me alone. I don’t feel good.” She burrowed into her pillows.
I calmly walked across the hall to the bathroom, poured a large glass of water, and snagged two Tylenol from the cabinet. I lowered myself to her bed and rubbed her head. “I know you don’t feel good, honey. Take these.” You stupid, stupid girl.
She sat up and gave me a sleepy acknowledgement, swallowing the Tylenol and hitting the mattress with a thud. “Thank you. Now leave me alone.”
I stood quietly and took stock. She was pale, clammy, stinky, and hungover. Grams would have a field day in here, but I couldn’t do that to either of them. I lifted the glass of water high into the air and poured it down over her face. She came up spitting and shrieking. “You bitch!”
I shook the final droplets out of the glass and set it down on her nightstand. “Yup. Now get your ass out of bed.” I threw the latches and slid open her window, letting the rancid room breathe the frigid Colorado air. “You want to drink like a big girl? Then you deal with the big-girl consequences. Now get in the shower, and for the love of God, brush your teeth!”
I waited until she marched out of her room and into the bathroom, flipping me off as she closed the door behind her. Too damn bad. She could be pissed; I really didn’t care.
Gus was already in the dining room and on his third donut before I made it downstairs. He was freshly washed and covered in chocolate. “Em-buh?” he called out with his mouth full.
“Yup?”
He swallowed. “Can I have your strawberry glazed?”
I looked at the donut I’d bought because it reminded me of how Josh tasted last night and nodded. “Go for it, buddy. Do me a favor and go watch a movie in your room? It’s not going to be fun down here for a bit.”
He nodded, already consumed with his strawberry donut, and headed up the stairs. With the three of us at the table again, there was no noise except the ticking of the pendulum from the grandfather clock.
It started to sound like the clicking of a roller coaster, dragging me up the first hill. The problem was that I didn’t know what was coming, how far or fast the drop to the bottom would be. How far my heart would fall out of my chest again.
But there was beauty in not knowing what was coming my way, in being unable to brace for impact.
The doorbell rang, and I jumped, despite knowing he was coming. We all three stood, and this time, Mom answered the door. “Captain Wilson.”
“It’s good to see you, ma’am,” he answered, removing his cover as he entered the house. “Where would you like it?”
She pointed into the living room. Two soldiers walked in tandem, carrying a large, black Tough Box. Then another pair of soldiers did the same. They set the black boxes in front of the couch, on either side of the coffee table. What the hell?
The men stood back, shifting their weight awkwardly as I took a closer look. On the top of the boxes, white writing stood out in dark contrast. “Howard. 5928.”
These were the things my father had taken to Afghanistan with him.