Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(61)

“When we get to your house, can you drive me home?”

I swallow back the protests I want to make. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt.

She looks over. “For what? For hearing all that? It’s not your fault you were there.”

I latch onto the safest topic to bring up, even though I can’t stop wondering who Preston is and why she sees a psychiatrist. “You don’t want to become a physical therapist.”

She sniffles. “No,” she says thickly. “But you know how sometimes you latch onto something and can’t let it go? After my injury, I got kind of interested in my physical therapy, and he suggested I should do that as a career. It’s not like I have any better ideas, so whatever. It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever. It’s your life. What about your writing?”

“You don’t know the whole story.”

“So tell me.”

She stops on the sidewalk, looking up at me with tears on her cheeks; her breath crystalizes in the air as she sighs. “I can’t,” she says, her voice cracking. “Don’t worry about it.”

I can’t stop worrying about it, though. I can’t stop when we get to the house and she gathers up her things. I can’t stop when she takes my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring off my shelf and cradles it to her chest like she’s holding a prize. I can’t stop when she hugs Tangy goodbye, or when we drive to campus in silence, or when she dodges my kiss on the way out of the truck. I worry about it in bed, Tangerine tucked against my side and snoring daintily as I read the first couple chapters of Twilight. My worry is taking on a shape I know it’s not supposed to, but it’s not like I can just make it go away. I told her last week we’re not dating, and I’m going to hold onto that as long as I can, but with every second that passes, my feelings march into territory I’ve never felt before.

She told me about her mother, and I’ve got her favorite book in my hands, and I can see her thirteen-year-old handwriting in the margins, and doesn’t it mean something that she offered it up to me? When she reads The Fellowship of the Ring, she’ll see where I dog-eared the pages, where I broke the spine, where I penciled in thoughts during rereads where things felt particularly magical. I know I’m not supposed to feel this way for her, and maybe I’m reading this whole situation wrong, but she can’t be feeling nothing.

It’s in my chest like a breathing, palpable thing. Not friendship. Something deeper. Eventually, I won’t be able to contain it, and I’m terrified that the moment that happens, I’ll lose Penny for good.





36





COOPER





“Isn’t it wonderful that James’ bye week lined up with this?” Mom says the moment she hugs me.

I’ve been at Markley Center for hours, preparing for the game, but I snuck out once I heard that my family arrived. I’m not in my gear yet, just workout clothes, but after I say hello, I need to get into uniform.

“Definitely.” I squeeze her tightly; I haven’t seen my parents since the semester began, and I’ve missed her especially. When Mom lets go of me, Dad steps forward and pulls me into a hug of his own. I relax for the tiniest of moments, because even though I’m taller than he is now, it doesn’t feel like it, and it’s rare that I wrangle a hug out of Richard Callahan. Hopefully, I’ll get another one after the game. I told my siblings to keep the news about making captain a secret so I can share it with him in person.

“It’s too bad we can’t stay the whole weekend,” James says as we clap each other on the back. “Coach wants us to get to Texas ahead of time.”

“And I still can’t believe you won’t be here for Thanksgiving,” Mom says with a sigh.

“Someone has to play Dallas,” Dad says. “And it’s a divisional game.”

“Yes, yes,” Mom says, waving her hand. “At least we’ll have Bex. And the cat, right? I can’t wait to meet the cat.”

“The cat is so cute,” Izzy says. “Mom, you’re going to flip.”

Bex smiles as she steps forward to hug me too. “I broke out my McKee hat for this,” she says, kissing me on the cheek. “It’s weird, going back to purple.”

“I got you seats in the front row,” I say as I lead the way across the parking lot. It’s a midafternoon game, the one McKee hockey fans have been waiting for all season—the first home game against UMass. Someone started calling it the Turkey Freeze ages ago, and the name stuck, since it takes place right before Thanksgiving break. There’s even a trophy, a bronze turkey in full hockey gear that we pass back and forth based on who wins. It’s one of the biggest regular season games we play in Hockey East. CBS is broadcasting, and Coach already told me that I’m likely to get an interview at some point, so I need to think about how I want to present myself. My stats have been strong all season, but excellent play during this game will help show that I can buckle down even in big moments. It’s going to be my first time seeing Nikolai on home ice since last season, but I’m not worried about him anymore. I’m locked in, and that means not paying him any mind, no matter what he chirps at me or what cheap shots he tries to get away with. “It’s right across from the benches.”