Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(100)

Sebastian stands too. “Jesus, Cooper. Use your head.”

“No.” I take off my baseball cap and run my hand through my hair. The people at the next table are looking at us, but I can’t bring myself to care. “I would have expected this from Dad, but it’s really fucking shitty to be getting it from you, too. He’s family, and if he needs our help to get back into our lives, I’m going to fucking help.”

I yank open the door right as the server comes around with our drinks. I don’t care. I’m not hungry anymore. I step onto the slushy sidewalk, shoving my hands into my pockets, tucking my chin into the collar of my sweater. My coat is still inside, but whatever. A woman walks by me with her dog, and the dog tries to say hello; I bare my teeth at him as the woman pulls him away.

Fuck, my stomach hurts.

The bell on the door rings as Uncle Blake steps out a moment later. We’re about the same height, so we stand shoulder to shoulder. I don’t want to glance back and see Seb and Izzy in the restaurant, but I can’t help myself. Izzy looks upset, and Seb is rubbing her back. Shit. I feel bad, but it’s not my fault if they don’t understand how important this is to me.

“I don’t want to do this,” Uncle Blake says after a long, quiet moment. “But if I could just get some help with the debts, then it’ll be easier for me to get set up here. You have your trust fund now, right?”

I gained access to it the moment I turned twenty-one. “Yeah.”

He nods. “Good. That’s good.” His face twists up as he huffs out a broken little laugh. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “This is pathetic. But if I could have some help, I can pay you back. Your father isn’t the only one with connections. I could find you a better agent, someone who will do what’s best for you, not what’s best for your father.”

I blink. “But… Jessica is going to be my agent. We’ll have our own relationship.”

Uncle Blake raises his eyebrows. “You sure about that? Sure your father isn’t going to try to control the whole thing? You told me about how he handled things with your brother. It’s in his nature, Cooper. It’s like I said, he’s one kind of person. James, too. Then there are people like us. Don’t you want to forge your own path?”

It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and Uncle Blake is the only one to ever recognize that. Who took me to the rink for the first time? Who taught me how to hold a hockey stick? Maybe he is right, we’ve always been different. Not just second sons, but in a different category entirely. Maybe if I truly want the future I’ve always dreamed of, I need to distance myself. I’ve worked my ass off to get here, and nothing that I do will ever compete with James. From the moment I chose hockey, I lost my father’s interest.

But I can help Uncle Blake. I can make a new relationship. He’s not my dad, but he’s family, and he sees the real me.

“How much do you need?”





60





PENNY





I raise my beer along with the rest of the group as Cooper steps into the middle of the circle. Even though there are other people at Red’s, we took over the scene the moment we arrived. The whole group is buzzing with excited, relieved energy.

“Hockey fucking East champions!” he roars.

The guys explode into cheers. Evan and Remmy, Jean and Mickey, Brandon and everyone else, guys I’ve spent almost an entire season cheering on, start chanting “McFucking McKee!”

I join in, along with the rest of our crew, and we’re so loud, we drown out the music and the televisions above the bar. By winning their conference, they have an automatic place in Regionals. I know they have a lot of hockey left to play, but I can feel in my bones that they’re going all the way to the Frozen Four in Tampa Bay, and they’re going to be champions. Out of every Division I hockey program in the country, they’re going to be the ones holding up the trophy.

I haven’t told Cooper yet, but I’ve started looking at flights to Florida. They’d have to lock me up to keep me from cheering him on—wearing his sweater, thank you very much. At tonight’s game against Maine, I yelled so much my throat hurt. I was sitting next to some random older lady, and eventually she got so exasperated she snapped and said, “Your boyfriend isn’t the only one playing.”

She must’ve been a Black Bears fan.

“Speech!” Remmy says. The guys echo him, thumping on the tables and the bar and stomping their feet.

Cooper holds up his hand, pretending to think. “Ah, fuck,” he says. “That was it.”

Everyone laughs, even the bartender and the group of guys sitting at a table nearby.

“You’re Cooper Callahan?” asks one of them. “Richard Callahan’s other boy?”

“Yes, he is,” Cooper’s uncle says as he shoulders through the crowd to us. He ruffles Cooper’s hair, pulling him into a hug. “That’s my fucking nephew. Get his autograph now, boys, before he’s in the NHL.”

“Your father was a hell of a quarterback,” one of the other guys says. “Good for you, kid, finding your own success.”

Cooper flushes. He reaches out for me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and squeezing. “Great fucking game, everyone. Great fucking season. It’s been an honor to ride it out with you, and I know we have a lot left to give. Let’s celebrate, then get back on the ice and get ready to rock and roll right into Regionals.”