CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
January
Sabrina
From my spot in the passenger seat, I glanced over at Crosby driving with one hand resting on the top of my steering wheel, so comfortable driving my car. His tattoos shone so vibrant in the bright Saturday morning sun.
“I can’t wait to see you play.”
His eyes cut to mine before jumping between the deserted stretch of Louisiana road and me. “You’ve already seen me play.”
“That doesn’t really count.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t there for you,” I explained. “Or at least I was only there to piss you off.”
He threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Seriously?”
“Maybe.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “When I saw you there, I just couldn’t understand what you’d see in Jeremy.”
“I gave him a shot.” I shrugged. “He turned out to be a jerk.”
“I think he only asked you out to get to me.”
“Hence the jerk.”
“You knew?”
“His grilling at dinner about my meeting with the dean tipped me off,” I explained.
“He wanted to know if you ratted them out?”
I nodded. “And him sending me to your room proved it was all about you.”
Crosby shook his head. “He’s such a douche.”
I glanced out the window at the passing signs. “You weren’t much better. Just saying.”
He reached over and linked his fingers with mine, resting them in my lap. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Do you have a comment for everything?”
My eyes shifted back over at him. “Anything worth saying.”
His eyes remained on the road. “You’re pretty fantastic.”
“Keep going.”
His smile grew. “And sexy.”
“And?”
“And when are you coming to a game to watch me?”
“January twelfth is an away game. So whichever game is after that.”
His smile reached all the way to his eyes. “You know when my next game is?”
“I looked it up when I was trying to figure out when you’d be back at school.”
“That when you realized I never left?”
I nodded. “No more holidays alone. Okay?”
His eyes cut to mine and his smile turned me into the type of giddy girl I swore I’d never be.
* * *
Crosby stepped out of the hotel bathroom in nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips.
I drank him in, wondering if the water droplets rolling down his chest were meant to distract me—anything to avoid visiting his father. And if he kept staring at me with those hungry eyes, I might’ve let him blow off his visit so we could spend the day in bed. But it had been months since he’d spoken to his dad. He needed to.
Trying to distract him—and have a little fun of my own—I held up my phone and snapped a few pictures of him.
He laughed as he moved forward, each step displaying more of his body.
My phone rang. It was Finlay. I sent it to voicemail and snapped more pictures, capturing each predatory step he took closer to me.
“Who was that?”
“Finlay.” Click.
“You sent it to voicemail?”
I nodded. Click. Click.
“What’s she think about me bringing you to Texas?”
“I didn’t tell her.” Click.
He stopped, eyeing my curiously. “Why not?”
I shrugged.
He leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms.
“Nice. Stay like that.” I took a couple more pictures, but he wasn’t smiling.
“Wait a minute. Does she even know about us?”
Trying to ignore his question, I checked the pictures to be sure they were focused.
“She doesn’t, does she?” The surprise in his voice caused me to cringe.
I forced my eyes up. “I’m not ready to hear her say, ‘I told you so.’”
A smug grin slipped across his lips. “I guess you should’ve listened to her then.”
I cocked my head, not needing to hear it from him either.
He walked over to the bed and sat beside me, the mattress drooping beneath his weight. He leaned over and his wet hair brushed against my cheek as he peppered my neck and collarbone with kisses. “Any way I can convince you that I don’t need to go?”
I shook my head.
His gentle kisses turned to open-mouthed kisses. “I could be persuaded to drop the towel for a few more pictures.”
“What’s the point? I can search online and find plenty.”
Without missing a beat, he pinned me beneath him on the bed. His body held me in place as water droplets from his hair dripped onto my face. “That was cold, woman.”
I giggled, loving the way his face relaxed when he looked into my eyes. “You need to go,” I said.
He closed his eyes and nodded.
“I’ll wait in the car for as long as you need me to.”
He inched closer. “Thank you.”
Crosby
My mother’s prison had been a day spa compared to the hellhole my father now resided in. It was the type of place you saw in movies. Century old rusted bars crisscrossed the small windows on the cobblestone exterior. Barbwire circled the tops of the multiple fences surrounding the building. And misery plagued the faces of guards and visitors in the drab gray waiting room where I sat completely unprepared to come face to face with the man I hated.
“Parks,” a guard called.
I jumped to my feet and followed him through a locked door into a room filled with old wooden tables and chairs. My father sat at a table with his back to me. My shoes suddenly became cement blocks, dragging the closer I got to him. Why had I decided to do this? Why had I let Sabrina convince me it was something I needed to do?
I slipped into the seat across from him. Prison had aged him. That or his weekly trips to the spa had concealed the aging man now seated before me. One with hard lines around his eyes and gray wisps of hair around his ears. “Hi.”
His emotionless eyes stared back at me. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
He nodded. “You were always closer with your mother.”
I didn’t argue the fact. Seemed like a moot point. He’d been a cold son of a bitch who never invested time in me.
“Have you spoken to her?” he asked, though given the offhandedness in his tone, I wondered if he actually cared.
“She calls almost every day. I saw her on Thanksgiving and I’m heading there tomorrow.”
“I suppose you didn’t see me because I don’t call,” he said with the snide condescension I’d grown up expecting from him.
“I suppose,” I said.
“So, what’s changed? I don’t have any money to give you.”
I scoffed. “You think I’m here for money?”
“Aren’t you?”
“You’ve got nothing left. You know that, right?”
He lifted his chin and looked away, as if he still possessed the tiniest shred of dignity in a place like that.
It took everything in me not to say, ‘Come on, dude. You shower and piss in front of other guys.’
His eyes cut back to mine. “So, why are you here?”
“Just thought it was the right thing to do.” My attention drifted to a couple a few tables over. The woman was pregnant. I wondered if their unborn kid was better off being born with a father in prison instead of having him at home teaching him the wrong way to grow up. My eyes ventured back to my father. “Thanks for hiding the business side of things from me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s better that I didn’t know what you were doing. I’ll be okay not having money. I wouldn’t have been okay if I watched you steal from innocent people. Knowing I had no knowledge of it helps deal with the anger toward our family.” I watched him closely. Watched to see if he even cared my life had been affected by his decisions. But his blank stare continued.
“So, you’re thanking me?”
“In a screwed-up kind of way, I guess I am.” I stared down at the handcuffs wrapped around his wrists. I didn’t need to look away from them like I did my mom’s. For some reason, it wasn’t odd to see them there.
“Still playing hockey?”
“At Alabama now.”
His head flinched back. “What? Why?”
If he didn’t understand the trail of disaster he’d left in his wake, I didn’t have the energy to explain it to him. “Just thought it was for the best.”
“Your mother arrange that?”
I nodded.
“Of course she did,” he muttered. “Well, keep focused on your goal and stay healthy. That way you can go early in the draft.”
“I intend to.”
“I’ve seen those contracts. You’re gonna be a very wealthy man. Just be careful. Women will be crawling out of the woodwork for you, wanting to get their claws on your money. Be safe.” He nodded toward the pregnant woman at the other table. “They’ll do anything to hold onto you.”
“You think money’s the only reason someone would want to be with me?”
“Absolutely. Money’s all anyone sees.”
“You should know, huh?”
He looked away, the accuracy of my words pissing him off. Too bad I didn’t care.
The pregnant woman’s chair scraped on the floor, and she pushed herself slowly to her feet. She wiped a tear from her eye as she turned and walked away from the inmate still seated at the table.
I pulled my attention away from the sad scene and looked back at my father. “It’s not about the money for me.”
A derisive laugh shot from his lips. “You say that now.”
I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not you. All I need is a stick and skates and I’ll be okay.”
“Call me in a few years if hockey doesn’t work out. I’d love to hear if your ideals have changed.”
“Deal.”
Sabrina
“So that’s what a power play is?” I said, dipping a tortilla chip into the spicy bowl of salsa we shared.
“Yup,” Crosby said, sipping his beer in the Mexican restaurant he’d picked. Apparently, Texans loved their Mexican food.
The colorful décor and soft mariachi music surrounding us proved to be the perfect balance for an otherwise difficult day for Crosby—at least, I assumed it was difficult. He hadn’t spoken a word about his time with his dad. After his visit, he returned to the car where I waited and kissed me long and hard. I was convinced he was trying to rid himself of the past and lose himself in the normalcy of what we’d been creating.
“Do you know what a hat trick is?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He smiled, but I could see he was trying not to make me feel stupid for asking what I assumed to be a ridiculous question. “Three goals in one game by a single player.”
“This hockey stuff isn’t so tough,” I said, popping another tortilla chip into my mouth.
“Says the girl who can’t skate.”
I laughed with my mouth full. “Can, too.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth. “You with a mouthful is a good look.”
I rolled my eyes as I swallowed the last of my bite. “Smooth.”
He laughed. “I thought you like it when Mr. Hockey makes an appearance?”
I did. But I still wanted to know how it went with his dad. “So—”
“It was fine,” Crosby said, cutting me off.
“I’m here if you wanna talk about it.”
“I know.”
My brows shot up. “Do you?”
Sadness clouded his eyes. “I’m trying.”
“Well, promise me you’ll at least talk to your mom about it in the morning.”
He nodded.
Our waiter approached with a tray piled high with food, interrupting our conversation and lighting up Crosby’s eyes.
The waiter placed the dish Crosby ordered for me in front of me.
“Looks good, right?” Crosby said, eagerly scooping up something that looked like a taco from his own dish as soon as the waiter placed it down.
“Sure. You gonna tell me what I should start with?”
He lifted the food in his hand. “The puffy taco.”
I picked up the puffy taco from my dish and examined it.
He laughed. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a puffy taco before.”
“I can’t believe how much it makes me want to laugh every time I hear you say ‘puffy taco.’”
He laughed before taking a big bite, eating nearly half of it.
I followed his lead, biting into mine but taking a much smaller bite to gauge if I liked it. The puffy taco shell added a dough-like texture to the outside, while the warm gooey inside set my taste buds on overdrive. I took another bite, this time getting more of the tasty goodness inside.
“Good, right?”
I nodded, chewing down the delicious food.
“I like having you here.”
My nose wrinkled. “In a Mexican restaurant?”
He snickered. “No. In my home state…It feels right.”
“You wanna stop by your old school so you can show me off?”
He grinned.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a yes to wanting to show you off but no to going to my old campus.” His phone buzzed on the table, but he didn’t reach for it. He just lifted his glass and sipped his beer.
“Aren’t you gonna get it?”
“Who’s more important than you?” he asked.
“Wow. Get you started and the lines just keep on rolling.”
He laughed as he placed down his glass and grabbed his phone. Surprise washed over his features as he stared down at the screen.
“What is it?”
He held up his phone so I could read the text. A scout will be at our next home game to see you play.
“Is that from your coach?”
He nodded.
“That’s amazing.”
A smile inched across his face. “That’s fucking amazing.”
My head dropped back and I laughed. Like really laughed.
Whether he wanted to talk about his father or not, Crosby was going to be okay. This was his time, and he was going to crush it for that scout.