Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (4 page)

BRANTLEY

After Rivers leaves for breakfast, I pack a bag and head over to the frat house, where my buddy, John, has a futon I'll crash on for the next few days. There's no way in hell I'm putting myself back in
that
position. I mean, it's no surprise her brother will pummel my ass if he finds out what went down. But it's not just that. I hate to admit it, but I'm attracted to her. She's pretty, but at the same time, she's nothing like the girls I normally hook up with. Not that I hook up with a lot of girls. At least, I don't
think
I do.

So, for two days I divide my time between the frat house and the weight room, avoiding Scott like the plague. He texted yesterday, asking where the hell I'd gone. All I said was I didn't want to kick his kid sister to the couch. Little did I know he would see it as another noble gesture on my part. When he started praising me for being such a great friend, it was all I could do not to come clean. We've never kept secrets. We've never had to. Our whole group is like that. We're great as individuals, but even stronger as a team, which makes us a powerhouse on the ice.

"Cage, get in here and sit down," Coach calls out as I'm passing his office after a hard morning of practice. The first two weeks after summer are always an adjustment. Coach keeps us on a strict training schedule during the off-season. But coming back after being apart and trying to mesh with the new recruits always seems to take some getting used to. I mean, you've got the seasoned players who've already established their place on the team, then you bring in new guys who are itching to make their mark. Let's just say the trainers go through a lot of ice due to guys pushing too hard during those first few weeks.

I step into the room, and he motions for me to take a seat across from his desk. "How you doing, son? You looked good out there today."

"Thanks, Coach. It's good to be back."

Kevin Bishop's job involves much more than coaching this team of NHL hopefuls. For the past three years, I've been a part of this team, and he's taken on the role of surrogate father to a number of his players. Guys like me, whose own fathers are over a thousand miles away, often find themselves sitting in this very spot seeking advice or simply sharing minute details of our lives. I'll admit it's nice to know someone I respect so highly is always there for me if I ever need him.

"So, tell me about camp. See any future champions?" He smiles, and I spend the next twenty minutes telling him all about my week in Traverse City coaching a group of thirty hockey hopefuls, all under the age of eleven.

"Sounds like you had as much fun as the kids."

"Oh, yeah. I almost wish I could go back next summer. There was one kid who was really fast, and he was wearing my jersey. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty cool," I grin happily as I think about my week with Tyler.

"I'm glad to hear it. I knew you'd be a great fit up there." He's still smiling, but concern washes over his face as he leans forward and studies me. "Is everything okay? You look tired. You getting enough sleep?"

"Hardly. Rivers' sister transferred here this year, and is staying with us until she can get into the dorms. She's in my bed, and I'm on John's futon at the frat."

He throws his head back, and the rich sound of laughter fills the room. "Cage, you're the only guy on this team who would hand over his bed to a woman and then move out. So, when do you get your bed back? The dorms opened this morning."

"Yeah. Rivers and Ashley are moving her in this afternoon. All should be back to normal when I get home tonight."

"Well, okay then. Everything else going okay? Course schedule, family, girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend, sir." I shift uncomfortably in my chair. "And my family is good. Spoke with my brother a few weeks ago; he said Mom and Dad are good. "

"Glad to hear it, kid. So, why no girl?" He leans forward until we're eye level and clasps his hands under his chin.

I shrug my shoulders and sit back, putting some distance between us, though I still feel as if I'm being scrutinized.

"What's the point? I don't want to be tied down. I'm headed to Detroit after graduation. I'm slammed with hockey and classes," I give him a list of excuses. Excuses I've firmly clung to since having my heart broken at the beginning of freshman year. Coach remembers all the shit I went through with Vanessa. He knows how I feel about relationships, but I also know he worries about me being closed off to love. "It's just easier this way."

"You make it sound easy, but you can't hide from love forever. Sooner or later it's going to catch up with you. Then what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Guess I'll just have to skate faster." I stand and make my way toward the door. "Thanks for everything. I better get going."

"Anytime, son. Hey, if you see Masterson out there, tell him to get his butt in here." I throw up a hand in acknowledgement and head to the locker room.

***

When I get back to my room, I find everything is just as I'd left it. There are even fresh sheets on the bed, and a note from Cassie.

Thanks for letting me stay here this week. I'm really sorry you had to leave for my sake, but I have to say I frigging LOVE your bed. And I'm sorry we didn't get to spend more time together, but it was fun while it lasted. Hope to see you again under different circumstances. ~Cassie

I laugh at her wit, imagining the gleam in her eye as she wrote it, then crumple the note up before throwing it in the trash. The house is quiet, which is rare once classes start, so I take advantage and turn on my music. My bed sits there, perfectly made, and it beckons me over. I stretch out my legs and remember the last time I lay in this exact spot. When my eyes close, it's her face I see, and her blond hair I feel where it fell forward and tickled my skin. Before long, I'm fast asleep, dreaming of when I was a young kid skating on Miller's Pond. Those were happy times, when all I cared about was what time the rink opened and when the lake would finally freeze over so we could put our skates on.

A ringing phone awakens me, and it takes a few seconds to find it in my sleep-induced state. It's dark, and I figure I must have slept a good five hours. My stomach rumbles loudly, and I realize I've slept right through dinner.

"Hello," I answer groggily.

"Sweetie?" Mom's voice breaks through the fog surrounding me. "Did I wake you?"

"Mom. Wow, it's good to hear your voice." I pause and shift my position so I can cradle the phone between my ear and the pillow. "Yeah, I was sleeping, but I never intended to sleep this long. I'm glad you called and woke me. How are you? How's Dad?"

"I'm fine." I sense the strain in her voice, and I am instantly wide awake.

"Mom, what is it? Something's wrong."

"Sweetie, I need to tell you something, and it's not going to be easy. I really wish I could be there with you when I tell you this."

The line goes silent for a few moments, and it gives my mind time to speculate what's going on. My grandmother had a heart attack. Or something has happened to my brother.

"Your father collapsed this afternoon. The doctor's believe he's had a heart attack," she says, catching me completely off guard. Her words strike me hard. It feels worse than the hit I took in the playoff game against Minnesota last season. That blow had been bad enough to take me out of the game. But this...

This one leaves me feeling as if I've been hit by the whole fucking Minnesota team all at once.

"Where was he? Was he at work, or with you?"

"We were in the kitchen, having an argument. He collapsed right before my eyes. I've never felt so helpless in all my life. They're running tests right now."

"Wait, what does this mean? There's something you're not telling me." By now my frustration has reached a dangerous level. I receive a phone call waking me out of a deep sleep, only to be told my father just had a heart attack and possibly almost died. Yet I sense there's something she's not telling me.

"Brantley, I need for you to try and calm down. None of this is easy for me. I hate having to tell you this over the phone."

"Mom, I'm sorry. It's just that I know there's something else. Just lay it on me," I plead with her. "Why were you and dad fighting? You never used to fight."

"People change, sweetheart. Your dad's business has been struggling for some time, and he hasn't really been himself. We were fighting because I found out a woman he works with has been texting him. They met for coffee a few times. I jumped to conclusions and confronted him."

"What?" I bellow, sitting up so fast it makes my head spin. "Why the hell would he be with another woman? He's a married man, or did he forget that?"

"Sweetheart, I know this is hard for you to hear. But right now I'm choosing to look past all of that because I want him to get through this. I can't afford to get held up on those details. He's my husband and he needs me. Now more than ever," she answers resolutely.

The rest of our conversation is a blur as I listen to the long list of tests scheduled. He'll be admitted to the hospital and will most likely be there for a couple of days. I suddenly feel guilty for being so far away, and I wonder if my brother is there with her.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. I just talked to him a few weeks ago and everything was fine. You both sounded so... so... normal. How can he go from normal to having a heart attack in just a few weeks? And how is it you sound so calm? Aren't you freaking out right now?"

"Sweetheart, I understand this comes as a shock. This isn't something any mother wants to tell her children. And it hasn't been easy for me. While I may appear calm on the outside, I can assure you on the inside I am barely holding it together. Your father and I have been together for twenty-seven years. It's hard as hell to see the man you love lying on a hospital bed with machines hooked up to him."

"I'm sorry, mom. Is Chris there with you? Do you want me to come home? I can probably get a flight out first thing tomorrow."

"No. You stay put. The doctors seem pretty confident he will be okay, and he's in good hands. Chris is on his way. We'll be okay without you here. I'll call you once I know more, or if anything changes." I know she's trying to ease my worry, but her words have the opposite effect. Knowing I could have gone to school in Colorado rather than take off across the country used to weigh heavily on me when I'd first come to Michigan. This situation just brings all of the guilt I thought I had buried straight back to the surface.

A strange tightness grips my chest, and I feel the sudden need to go out and get plastered. Maybe the alcohol will help me forget everything I just heard.

"Mom, I have to go." I can hear her talking as I hang up, but I don't care. Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and discover it was all just a bad dream.

Even though in my heart I know it's not.

When I step out of my room, the first person I see is Davis. He's on the sofa, playing a video game and drinking a beer. I spin my keys on my finger and cock my head toward the door.

"Feel like getting wasted?" He's up and following me out the door faster than you can say
hell, yeah
.

CASSIE

I stand back and survey my side of the room, loving what I see. After Scotty and his roommates helped me get settled, Ashley and I spent the better part of the afternoon shopping for items to give my space a homey feel. Ashley is getting her degree in interior design, and she found the best selection of random stuff at rock bottom prices.

I find it laughable it took three grown men to help me move six boxes stuffed full of my most precious belongings. But they insisted on helping. Spending the past few days with them has been quite an experience. We laughed, played video games, watched multiple videos where men were blowing up stuff, and bonded over a few meals. My brother has really great friends. They are all sweet guys who support each other fully. The only absent member had been Brantley.

"Our space is totally bitchin'," exclaims my roommate, Veronica, as she comes up behind me and rests her chin on my shoulder. She has a dancer's body, long and lean, and at five-nine she stands a good five inches over me. "I have a feeling this is going to be a great year."

"Yeah, me too." I look around our small, overly decorated space and smile.

"I'm famished. You feel like grabbing a burger?" She reaches for her ID and a credit card. "I know this really great bar down by the train station, and there's a bus that will drop us off a few short blocks from there."

"Oh, yeah, Casey's Tavern. I saw it when Scotty picked me up the other day. Hell, yes I'm in." I stuff my pockets with the necessary items and close the door to our new home.

***

The place is wall-to-wall packed with GL students, and we wait forty-five minutes for a booth. The atmosphere is loud and full of energy. It's not a large space, but it's crammed full of local flavor. Images of Ann Arbor in ages past line the walls, along with chalkboards covered in decorative, handwritten menus. A fully stocked bar lines one entire wall, and the bar itself must be twenty feet long and is packed with customers standing shoulder-to-shoulder. I glance around and smile, getting the sense I'll be spending a lot of my time in this space over the next three years.

"This place is totally badass. I love it!"

Veronica beams with pride as her eyes scan over the small surroundings before hooking a thumb toward the bar. "Yeah, I've been coming here with my parents since I was little. I used to sit on one of those bar stools with my Dad and proudly declare one day I would work behind that bar."

"Well, at least I know where to find you after graduation," I laugh and take a sip of iced tea.

"My Dad used to look me in the eye and tell me "Roni, you can grow up and be anything you want to be. Why would you want to be a bartender?" to which I would happily reply, "So I can have as many cherry sodas as I want."

"That is so precious! I can totally picture you standing on one of those stools with your hands on your hips."