Chapter Sixteen
Ryder
Ignoring Dad only worked so long, and considering how persistent he was, worked probably wasn’t the right word.
“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” he asked the second I picked up.
I crossed campus, weaving around the other students rushing up and down the sidewalks. “Gym, school, hockey practice, repeat.”
“I certainly hope that’s it, and you’re not getting caught up in the college party scene.”
It’d been engrained in me that partying equaled playing like shit, so I always kept myself from getting more than a light buzz, even in the off-season—off-season was meant for keeping in shape for the next season. Partying had never been my MO, anyway. Then again, neither had going for unattainable women who made it hard to think about anything else. During today’s classes I could hardly focus, stuck on the way Lindsay curled up on my lap last night. Guess I was expanding my horizons.
Not that dear old dad would see it that way, which was why I’d make sure he never found out how much time I was spending with her, even though I knew it was starting to cut into school and what I could give at the gym and during practice, and I couldn’t afford getting carried away.
“I wanted to let you know that I’ll be there for the game against Minnesota.”
Goodie. So that was the game I’d get a lecture after. It was quarterfinals for the Hockey East Tournament, too, which was probably why he felt the need to come watch. He’d always been controlling about my training, and what I hadn’t told Lindsay last night was that he’d gone so far as to pawn my guitar after our argument about it. I hadn’t so much quit as he took away the option, and while I’d wanted to fight him on it, I knew I’d never get anywhere with him.
Plus, emotions only gave him more ammo. Care too much, he took things away. Get sad over something or dare to talk back, and he’d toughen me up or teach me respect with hockey drills that pushed me to puking or passing out.
I’d spent so much of my life trying to make him proud, but losing battles like the one with the guitar was one of the reasons I fought so hard to major in the subject I wanted, despite it being the harder route. My decision was part resentment and part wanting to prove myself.
Now I wondered if I’d ever have his approval. I wished I didn’t care either way, but I couldn’t seem to stop wanting it.
“Oh, and your mom’s fundraising event is this weekend. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
Damn—I had forgotten. “It’s on my calendar.” That much was true at least, even if I rarely paid attention to anything besides when hockey practice or games were. Usually Mom called to remind me, and I vaguely remembered her mentioning it last week, but I’d been distracted. Too bad my schedule was online, because it’d be really convenient to have the ability to lie to my parents about it. I suppose the fact that Mom and Dad were acting civil enough toward each other for him to know about her event was at least something. They split over a decade ago, which meant I got marched out as her entire family, my presence needing to make up for her being a divorcee in government.
So on top of everything else, I’d have to don a suit and tie and go put on a show for all the people Mom was trying to impress. After living in New York for Dad’s career while they were married, Mom said it was her turn, throwing the guilt trip of his affair that eventually caused the divorce into the mix to get her way. She and I had returned to her hometown of Hartford, Connecticut so she could run for mayor and carry on the legacy her father started. Dad followed after his retirement from the NHL so he could take up coaching—or as I often referred to it, torturing me—my last three years of high school.
“I tried to get you out of it by explaining that with playoffs so close you couldn’t afford distractions,” Dad said, “but you know your mother.”
I did. She always pushed girls at me at those events, too, something that had caused friction with Dad in the past, because I should be focused on my future career. Mom insisted the girls were driven enough to have their own lives to focus on, which made them good matches who wouldn’t interfere with hockey—she usually sneered something like “unlike those puck bunnies you were so fond of” to ensure he’d think twice about pushing again.
So far, the attempted setups were mostly with her friends’ privileged daughters, who thought I was either a brute or a novelty. The women at the party who went for me of their own free will and choice were usually the cocktail waitresses close to my age. With the exception of that one who hadn’t been very close to my age, but handsy enough to make me reconsider how fast ladies over forty could move.
“Will you be there?” I asked Dad.
“No. Your mother would rather I stay away from them.” She and I both, but I liked to make sure. Without him there, though…I entertained the idea of taking Lindsay. Mom wouldn’t say anything to Dad if I asked her not to—in fact, she’d relish knowing something he didn’t.
The hard part would be getting Lindsay to go with me. Even as friends, she’d probably be hesitant. But hopefully I could convince her hoity-toity political fundraisers weren’t crossing the streams. It sure as hell wasn’t my world. More like a foreign planet I had to visit to keep Mom happy, and it’d be much easier to face with Lindsay by my side.
At least Mom’s approval was easy. Just show up, smile for the people and make polite small talk, and then we could both go back to our regularly scheduled lives.
I wrapped up things with my dad and changed course, heading for the newspaper office instead of the library.
Visiting Lindsay at work was a tricky line, especially since we’d just seen each other last night. But I decided to seize the moment—we didn’t have a whole lot to spare, and would have even less once playoffs started next week, when I truly would need to focus on hockey and nothing else.
I walked up the steps to the newspaper office and pushed inside. I had a speech all prepared, but the second Lindsay glanced up from her computer and smiled across the room at me, it flew right out of my head.
Fortunately, it came back to me by the time I reached her desk. “So, I have a favor to ask—think about it as a favor to a friend.” I put my hands up. “Not that you owe me. I don’t want you to feel like you do, so maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up at all. Anyway, my mom has this stuffy political event in Hartford this weekend, and I have to go, and it would suck a whole lot less if you went with me.” I rubbed the back of my neck, where my skin grew hotter and hotter. “I’m doing a shitty job of selling this, aren’t I?”
Her eyebrows had inched higher with each word. “I didn’t know that you even knew that many words. Aren’t you afraid you’ll hit your quota for the day and not be allowed to speak anymore?”
I laughed and shrugged. “I’ve saved up a few extra through the years.” I wanted to reach out and grab her hand like I had last night. But a desk stood between us, and there were too many people looking our way. I caught Whitney’s curious expression and gave her a nod.
She smiled and waved, and I turned back to Lindsay. “It’s Friday night at seven, and it’s a dressy occasion. So a dress. Or if you’re making a play for Congress, I suppose you could get away with a power suit.”
“Well, when am I not making a play for Congress? Still, I might go traditional this one time.”
That led to me thinking about her legs, and how they’d look in a dress, and it was a sight I definitely wanted to see. Then I realized she wasn’t saying hell no to going.
“Does that mean you’ll go?”
“Isn’t that what friends are for? Getting you through boring events?”
“Pretty sure it says that if you look up the word in the dictionary.” I was also sure that I’d spend the entire night waiting for the right opening to get out of the friend zone.
This girl’s already mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.