Chapter Eight
“The dorms were full,” I explained to April as she helped lug in the last of my boxes from the car. She’d jumped at the chance to see my new apartment. “Besides, Sam’s roommate flunked out last semester, so it’s pretty perfect.” It had only taken a week, but I’d moved from Boulder, enrolled at UCCS, and managed to avoid Riley . . . and Josh.
I didn’t even want to think about either of them right now. I couldn’t be the girl who switched colleges over a guy. Unless you included Dad, then I guess I really was that girl.
“Does this mean I can crash here on weekends?” She flung herself onto my bare bed.
I chucked my pillow at her. “Only if Mom okays it. I’m not your hideout.” It was nice to have a moment where I could be her sister and not her mother.
She picked up a picture of our family, the one from that last afternoon at the Breckenridge cabin, from the top of an open box. “If she ever recovers from her lobotomy.” She absently stroked her thumb over Mom’s smiling face in the family photo. It was the last one we’d taken before Dad deployed. That made it our last one, period.
“She’ll come around,” I promised what I had no right to.
“Right. She doesn’t even realize you’ve transferred schools.” She rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “How did Kayla take you moving out?”
Ouch. I didn’t expect that to hurt, but it did. “I went while she was still in Breckenridge and moved my stuff out. It’s not like she didn’t know the reason.”
“Riley’s an asshat.” I didn’t argue with her language. She eyed the mini-fridge and TV I’d pulled out of our shared dorm room. “Did you leave Kayla anything?”
A wicked smile flashed across my face. “Every picture I had of Riley and me, with a note that said, ‘He’s all yours. Smooches!’”
“Badass!”
She crossed her feet, revealing another pair of new shoes, and I couldn’t hold my tongue. “April, I paid off that credit card bill, but you have to give me the card, and Mom has to know. What you’re doing is illegal, and wrong, and hurtful—”
“Jesus, stop lecturing me.” She pulled the card out of her back pocket and tossed it onto my desk as she hopped off the bed. “Bathroom?”
I stepped into the living room and pointed the way.
The apartment was perfect. Located on the north side of town, it was close to campus, but not too far to get home when I was needed. I’d wanted to live at home for the semester, after all, that was why I’d left Boulder, but Grams would hear nothing of it.
“You’re moving forward,” she’d told me. “Not stepping back.”
I picked up a picture of Sam and me on graduation day. We were both so happy, her with a megawatt grin and the keys to a new car, me with a sappy smile and Riley’s class ring on a chain around my neck. If this was moving forward, why did it come attached to so much past?
The door slammed, and Sam waltzed in with an afternoon fix. Her killer body wasn’t hidden under the bright miniskirt and sparkly Uggs.
She juggled three mall-sized shopping bags and as many Pikes Perk take-out coffee cups, balancing the cups under her chin while she opened her bedroom door. The bags hit the ground, and she danced into the living room. “This is going to be great!” she said with way more enthusiasm than I was feeling as she passed me my coffee.
“Everything is moved in. I just need to unpack.”
“Did you register for classes?” She sank onto the microfiber couch.
“Yup, funny what they’ll wiggle you in for with a dead-dad card.” It had been torturous to explain to the registrar without breaking down, but I’d made it. “A lot of the good ones are gone, but I got into the American History class I need.”
Sam read my mood pretty well. “Once you get settled, this will be easier.”
I nodded my head absently.
“Time to pick up Gus and get home?” April asked, emerging from the bathroom.
“Yeah,” I grabbed my keys. “Sam, want to come? We’ll be back in time for a run later.”
She nodded mid latte-slurp, and then spoke. “Yes to coming along, hell no to the run. You’ve gone insane with that crap.”
I looked around the mass of boxes and knew we’d be up all night if I wanted to get a workout in. We had two days until classes started to finish up the apartment. There was a giant fake expiration date on my allowed-grieving time, and then I had to function.
The bleachers for the practice ice at the World Arena filled quickly. We grabbed a couple seats on the cold metal bleachers and waited for Gus’s practice to let out. Their over-padded figures ran a scrimmage for the last five minutes, and Gus was going all-out. He’d never been particularly sports oriented, but the minute Dad strapped skates on him a few years ago, his niche was found. The kid loved it.
But as cute as Gus was out there, my eyes were drawn to his coach. Josh dressed was in simple warm-up pants, a jersey, and helmet, all on top of a pair of black hockey skates that he wore like an extension of his body.
His movements were powerful, quick, graceful, and freaking hypnotic. I couldn’t look away as he moved from one blue line to the other, correcting players and getting the heck out of their way. Funny, but if this had been four years ago, I’d have found myself in exactly the same place, entranced by watching Josh Walker skate.
“Earth to Ember!” Sam waved her hand in front of my face, jolting me. “Do you need a napkin for the drool?”
I tore my eyes from Josh and focused back on Sam. “Nonsense.”
“Girl, I have seen that face. Do you forget all those games we stalked so you could salivate over Josh Walker?”
I couldn’t control the laughter that snuck out of me any more than I could keep the backs of my thighs from going numb on the bench. “Remember when you pretended to be my mom so we could get excused from class for that away game?”
Sam did her best impression of my mom, and we both sank into giggles. April turned from her seat lower on the risers—heaven forbid she get caught sitting with me—and glared at us for making such a scene. Sam and I may have grown apart over the last eighteen months, but a few hours together and we were right back to senior year.
Warmth streaked through my heart, washing away a little more of the crust of crap that seemed to have settled over me.
I wiped the laughter-induced tears out of my eyes and focused on the ice, watching Gus steal the puck and pass it to his teammate. He was bouncing back, and I envied him these moments.
The only time I successfully escaped thinking about Dad, was when I was with . . .
I raised my eyes and caught Josh giving me a head nod and single wave. My breath expelled in what sounded too much like a sigh.
“What is that about?” Sam asked, nudging my side.
“OMG,” a girly voice whined behind me. “Josh Walker just waved over here. Do you think he noticed I have his number painted on?”
She what? My head snapped back before I could call up the willpower to keep my eyes forward. The girls were annoyingly gorgeous, airbrushed, and straightened to sorority perfection. And one of them had a number thirteen painted on her cheek in blue and gold. Josh’s number, if he’d kept the same since high school.
“He’s been looking over here for like ten minutes,” the other girl said.
I wiped the horrified look off my face and forced my gaze forward to the ice. “I guess that hasn’t changed. Fan girls and all.” I tried to keep my comment light, but failed. I couldn’t help but be disappointed that girls still chased Josh.
I bet he still liked to get caught.
“Things change,” Sam whispered so the girls behind us wouldn’t hear. “And something tells me he wasn’t looking above you.”
Josh skated over to the glass in front of us, turned, and blew his whistle, ending practice for the day. The boys skated for the locker room. He turned around, pulled off his helmet, and locked his gaze to mine. A slow smile spread across his face, and I couldn’t help but give it right back.
He nodded his head toward the door, and I nodded in agreement before he skated off. The girls behind us let out a collective “Hmmpf.”
“Damn,” Sam whispered. “Have you jumped him yet? Because if not . . .”
“Shut it, Sam.” I paid close attention to my feet as I climbed down the bleachers. Falling on my ass was not on my agenda for the afternoon. I passed Riley’s mom, who was waiting for Rory, and gave her a half smile. She looked like she wanted to say something to me, but I wasn’t up for hearing it. Once my feet were on the ground, I took a quick peek for April, who was practically sitting on the lap of a guy who was not Brett. What the hell is she doing? I did my best to ignore her and give her the privacy she wanted. Following the glass around the side of the arena led me to the door where Josh waited, running his fingers over his slightly sweaty, still incredibly sexy hair.
“December.” He smiled, stopping every thought I had in my head.
“Josh.” It was the best I could do without sounding like an idiot, especially knowing what I had to tell him.
He pulled me to him by my waist, and I rebelled against every instinct I had to melt and give in. I stepped back and shook my head. “I can’t.”
His eyes narrowed. “Riley?”
“Oh, hell no.”
That brought another heart-attack grin across his face. He closed the distance between us without touching me, whispering in my ear. “You like it when I touch you.”
Boom. Turned on. Shit. Was this guy exuding pheromones, or did I simply see him and think, yes, sex is good. Now. I couldn’t stop the smile that sent mixed signals, but I took another step back. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”
“What’s up? Do I get an explanation? Or is it just creepy to want your brother’s coach? I happen to think the coach aspect is pretty hot.”
“Hot? Everything about you is hot. It’s just . . .” Crap. When he cocked his head to the side like that, he exposed the side of his neck. I knew how that neck felt under my teeth, how it tasted. I knew how he tasted. My lips tingled and parted.
“Don’t look at me like that and tell me no. That’s not fair.” His voice strained behind the teasing.
I shoved my hands into my coat to keep from putting them on him. “I just dumped Riley, and moved back here, and there’s my family, and a new school . . .”
“So no new flame to add to that?”
I flushed, despite the freezing temperatures inside the arena. “I just need to sort myself out.” His face fell. Crap, I did not just it’s-not-you-it’s-me him, did I? I stepped closer, despite my better judgment, putting my feet between his skates. They made his impossible height even more gigantic to look up at. “It’s not that I don’t want you.” The skin of his neck was begging to be touched, and I gave in, running my hands over his stubbled jaw before I stroked my fingertips down his neck. “Because I want you more than I should.” The whispered admission tumbled free before I could stop it. “I just don’t want to drag you into the incredible wreckage of my life.” And I wasn’t sure I’d survive if I turned out to be just another one of the girls chasing him. Was he worth that risk?
He laughed through his confusion. “So you’re saying slow? Or no?” He raised his arms and put his hands back against the glass. “Because you’re killing me here.”
“I need you separate,” I tried to explain, focusing way too much on his mouth for my own peace of mind. That mouth had been on my skin, all over my body.
“Separate from?” He kept his hands on the glass like they were glued to the surface.
“Separate from the crap. Separate from all the bad shit that’s happened in the last month.” How could I explain what I didn’t understand myself? “I don’t want a rebound, or a quickie in your dorm room.”
“I don’t live in the dorms.”
“Not the point, Josh.”
His eyes were dark. I knew that look. That look would have me peeling off my clothes in spite of the crowd around us. “Forget what I just asked you, because I don’t want an answer.” His voice dropped, and his head bent toward me. “I want you. Not a minute ticks by that I don’t crave the sight of you, the feel of you. But I get it.”
“You do?”
A wry smile came across his face. “I don’t want to screw this up, either, December.”
“Why do you do that? Call me December? Everyone except Grams calls me Ember, since before high school.” I craved the sound of my name on his lips. He made it sound like pure sex and the sweetest prayer.
He leaned down, brushing just close enough to my ear that I could feel his breath, but he wasn’t touching me. Chills raced down my neck to my spine and set my body on fire. “Because it means I have a part of you no one else does. Like my own little secret side of you.”
He had just about every part of me as it was.
“Josh!” the living Barbies called to him from the nearest bleachers. “We came to watch you play!” They waived a huge blue and gold paw in the air.
He gave them a head nod. “Thanks, girls.”
He was still playing? “You play for the Mountain Lions?”
“We have a game tonight. Want to watch?”
The hopeful tone of his voice nearly broke my resolve. Almost. “I need to get Gus home and check on my mom.”
“Okay.” He reached out and brushed a stray strand of auburn hair back behind my ear. “Another time.”
I couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t come out touch me now.
“You’re swimming in a pretty big shit fest. Just don’t forget to ask for help when you need it. Don’t carry this all on your own.”
Why couldn’t he be an ass? Why did he have to say the most perfect things? “You’d better get going.”
He searched my eyes for a moment, but I refused to break. I would not rebound on Josh Walker. I would not run from one guy to the other. He cleared his throat. “Practice Monday?”
“We’ll get him here,” I promised.
He stepped away from me, toward the girls who waited like groupies. I flipped to my back, leaning up against the cold glass and knocking the back of my head on it. I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t be tempted to watch him walk away with those girls. Who the hell let Josh Walker walk away?
“December.”
My eyes snapped open to see his fathomless brown ones leaning over me. His mouth was scant inches from mine, and I would have been willing to commit murder to close that distance without guilt. “Josh.” It was a whispered plea.
“We’re taking it slow until you say so, because I can’t bear to hear a ‘no’ from you. But here’s your only warning: I’m going to chase the f*ck out of you.” The promise dripping from his voice was enough to set my thighs on fire.
He pulled away, leaving me a heart-thumping mess against the glass. He waved to the girls and walked right past them without another word, but then turned back around. “Oh, and Ember?” I blinked in response. “I’m still your whatever, for whatever you need.”
We dropped Sam off for dinner with her mom and pulled into our driveway. Gus made a big deal about carrying his gear in by himself, so I let him, despite stifling my laughter at the Josh-sized bag. He struggled ahead to the door, and I pulled April back.
“Hey, what was with that guy at the rink?”
“Who? Paul?” She innocently brushed imaginary dirt off her arm.
“Yeah, Mr. Not-Brett. You looked pretty close to the guy.”
“And you were nearly clawing off Josh’s clothes, so what does it matter? Not that I blame you. That guy is so sexy.”
The wistfulness in her tone made me sputter. “It matters because I don’t have a boyfriend! Also, you don’t get to call Josh ‘sexy.’ He’s six years older than you.”
“Whatever. Look, I’m glad you’re home and stuff, but don’t stick your nose into my business like you haven’t been gone these last couple of years.” She huffed into the house.
I felt like some kind of absentee landlord, trying to mop up damage I hadn’t witnessed. She was right. As close as we’d been growing up, leaving for college changed things. We’d both matured separately, and now there was a distance between us.
Inside the foyer, the scent of garlic bread and scallops enveloped us. “No way,” April muttered, haphazardly tossing her purse into the entryway.
“Mom?” I hung up my coat and cautiously approached the kitchen.
She stirred the contents of the steaming pot on the stove. Her hair hung wet down her back, and she wore clean clothes without my prompting. Her eyes may have been red-rimmed and swollen, but she was here. “Ember, would you grab the dressing out of the refrigerator for the salad?”
I looked at April and Gus, and we all shrugged with wide eyes at one another. Grams stirred the pasta and gave us a subtle nod.
“Come on, guys, you know the drill. Ember, salad dressing. April, pour the drinks. Gus, grab the silverware.” Mom gave out orders like she hadn’t been bed-bound for the last four weeks. Another heartbeat passed. “Now.” She pointed toward the dining room with an Alfredo-sauce-soaked spatula.
We jumped, scurrying to our assigned roles. No one spoke, afraid of shattering the fragile normalcy. We brought our assignments to the table, and took our usual seats for the first time since . . . yeah. Grams pulled an extra chair from the side of the china cabinet to sit next to Gus.
She left Dad’s seat empty.
“Gus?” Mom prompted and bowed her head.
Gus’s sweet voice filled the air as he said grace, but his voice stuttered after he asked to keep our daddy safe during his deployment. He was just so used to saying it. I jerked my eyes to Mom in panic that it would set her off. She paled, but held still and silent until he finished.
“I think that was perfect, Gus.” Grams kissed his temple.
“Now who’s hungry?” Mom raised her head with a weak smile.
Just like that, the tide of grief receded enough to breathe as we passed the dishes around. The clatter of plates mixed with Gus’s excitement over his day and his ability to share it with Mom. I stole glances at her in between bites; she was smiling down at Gus, listening to what happened with his day. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it was there.
April’s head drooped next to me, and she quickly brushed off a tear. I reached the small distance between us and took her hand with a gentle squeeze. Our eyes met, and something intangible passed between us, something that felt dangerously like hope.
She clung to my hand as desperately as I gripped hers. With a trembling lip, I raised my eyes to Grams’s. She gave me a slow smile and a single nod, and there it was again, hope coursing through me, the taste sweet in my mouth. I was scared to acknowledge it, to think it even, in case it jinxed us in this moment, but I couldn’t ignore my optimism.
We were going to get past this. We were going to be okay.
“You’re not at school,” Mom stated as she stared at the calendar. “Has it really been that long?”
“I’m at UCCS now.” I looked back to the living room where Grams sat in the corner stitching, but she simply nodded her head back toward Mom. I was on my own.
“Right,” she muttered. “I remember you saying that. Kind of.” She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “You moved home.”
“Not exactly. I live with Sam now. We have an apartment up toward campus, but I’m close enough to grab Gus and stuff when you need help.”
“You came home because of me.”
I didn’t reach out for her. We weren’t exactly a touchy-feeling, mother-daughter duo. “I came home because we lost Dad, and nothing was right in Boulder. This is where I’m needed, and I made the best decision I could with what’s been going on.”
“You’ve kept the house going, you and Grams. Thank you.”
I didn’t want her thanks. I wanted her to pull herself together and promise she wasn’t going to retreat into that cave of a bedroom. I wanted her to take care of Gus, and April, and mostly, herself. I wanted not to be the only adult in the family anymore.
Where did this anger come from? Shouldn’t I just be happy she was here for the moment? She was functioning? I didn’t want to feel this way, so I ignored it as best I could.
I gave a closed-mouth smile before my stupid thoughts came out and ruined what progress she’d made. “Mom, are you . . . you know, okay?”
“Everything hurts,” she whispered, sounding like Gus. She tore her eyes from the calendar with a shake of her head. “Do you want to go back to Boulder? I don’t want to keep you here, from your friends and Riley.”
“Riley isn’t exactly missing me.”
“Oh, Ember. What happened?”
“Turns out he doesn’t do long distance well.” I put my hand up to ward her off when she stepped toward me. I didn’t want sympathy from her, not when she needed all the energy she had to keep herself together. “Yeah, so I live with Sam, and the number is on the fridge next to my class schedule. Just call and I’ll be here.”
“Ember, I’m sorry you’ve lost so much.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”
“Right. Whatever doesn’t kill you.” She went back to staring at the calendar.