Yeah, I haven’t shopped for groceries all week. And when you live in a house full of hockey players, skipping out on the shopping is bad news.
I stare at the empty pot I’d placed on the burner. I didn’t have a menu in mind when I wandered into the kitchen, and with the sad assortment of ingredients we have on hand, there’s not much I can work with.
“I guess I’ll make some pasta,” I say glumly. Carbs at this hour isn’t the smartest idea, but beggars can’t be choosers.
“Thanks, Mom.”
I cringe at that word. Mom. He might as well have said Dad. As in, I might be a fucking dad.
I draw a calming breath and fill the pot with water.
Logan beams at me. “Don’t forget to put on your apron.”
I give him the finger on my way to the pantry. “One of you lazy asses make yourself useful and chop some onions,” I mutter.
“On it,” Garrett says.
Logan flops down at the kitchen table and watches us like a jerk as we prepare a late dinner. “Make enough for five,” he tells us. “Dean’s working one-on-one with Hunter tonight. The kid might come back here with him.”
Garrett glances at me in amusement. “Naah, I think we’ll only make enough for four—right, Tuck? If Hunter’s here, he can take Logan’s spot.”
“Awesome idea.”
Our roommate rolls his eyes. “I’ll tell Coach you’re trying to starve me.”
“You do that,” Garrett says graciously.
I set the pot on the burner. While I wait for the water to boil, I scrounge around in the crisper for anything green. I find one pepper and two carrots. Whatever. Might as well chop ’em and throw ’em in the sauce.
We chat about nothing in particular as we prepare dinner. Or rather, they chat. I’m too busy internally freaking out about Sabrina. I guess that’s a testament to my acting skills, because my roommates don’t seem to notice that anything is out of the ordinary.
I’m about to dump two packages of penne in the boiling water when Garrett’s phone rings.
“It’s Coach,” he says, sounding slightly confused.
I set the pasta on the counter instead of in the pot and watch as Garrett takes the call. I don’t know why, but there’s a nervous feeling crawling up my spine. Coach Jensen doesn’t usually phone us off-hours for no reason. Garrett’s team captain, but it’s not like he’s getting nightly calls from the man.
“Hey, Coach. What’s up?” Garrett listens for a moment. His dark eyebrows knit, and then he speaks again. Warily. “I don’t understand. Why did Pat ask you to call me?”
He listens again. For much longer, this time.
Whatever Coach Jensen is telling him, it’s turning Garrett’s complexion to paste. By the time he hangs up, he’s as white as the walls.
“What’s wrong?” Logan demands. He doesn’t miss Garrett’s change in demeanor either.
Garrett shakes his head, looking stunned. “Beau Maxwell died.”
What?
Logan freezes.
I drop the spatula I’m holding. It clatters to the floor, and in the silence of the kitchen, it sounds like an explosion from a war film. We all flinch at the noise.
I don’t pick up the spatula. I just stare at Garrett, stupidly asking, “What?”
“Beau Maxwell died.” He continues to shake his head, over and over again, as if he can’t make sense of the words coming out of his own mouth.
“What do you mean, he died?” Logan growls in outrage. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
Our team captain braces both hands on the counter. He’s actually shaking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrett lose his cool like this.
“Coach just got off the phone with Pat Deluca. Beau’s coach. Pat said Beau died.”
Without a word, I turn off the stove and stumble over to the kitchen table. I sink into the first chair I collide into and rub my fists over my forehead. This isn’t happening.
“How?” Logan snaps. “When?”
He sounds angry, but I can tell it’s all shock. Logan and Beau are close. Not as close as Dean and Beau, but—oh Jesus. Dean. Someone needs to tell Dean.
“Last night.” Garrett’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Car accident. He was in Wisconsin for his grandmother’s birthday. Coach said the roads were icy. Beau’s dad was driving the car and he swerved to avoid hitting a deer. The car flipped over and flew off the road and…” His words are choked now. “Beau broke his neck and died.”
Oh sweet Jesus.
Horror swirls in my gut like poison. Across from me, Logan is blinking back tears. We’re all just sitting there. Silent. Shocked. I’ve never…had a friend who died before. No relatives, either. My dad passed away when I was too young to really grieve for him. That was a car accident too. God. Why the fuck do we drive cars?
In the back of my mind, there’s a nagging thought that I should be doing something. I swipe a hand over my stinging eyes and force myself to focus.
Sabrina.
Fuck, that’s what I need to do. I need to call Sabrina and tell her the news. She used to date Beau. She cares about him.
Before I can move from my chair, the front door creaks open. The three of us tense up.
Dean’s home.