He leans in to plant a chaste kiss on my lips, then hops out of the car. Tears fill my eyes as I watch him dart toward the entrance of the arena.
“It’s fine,” Dad says gruffly. “I’m sure his absence didn’t hurt his team too ba—”
“I’m not crying because of that,” I interrupt between sniffles. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. The tears just started pouring for no reason.”
“Not for no reason. The shock is wearing off, and it’s finally hitting you—the gravity of what happened tonight.” My father’s smile is tinged with sadness. “Come up here in the front, sweetheart, and we’ll go somewhere and talk. Okay?”
I rub my tear-streaked cheeks, then nod and reach for the door handle. “Thanks for being here, Daddy.”
“Always.”
42
Demi
I feel like I’ve run two marathons and gone to war all in one night by the time Hunter and I walk through his front door later.
His team won the game, so everybody is out celebrating tonight. But we decided to bail on the after party, along with Summer and Fitz. And Brenna, who said she’d rather Skype with her boyfriend than “deal with a bunch of horny drunk boys slobbering all over her.”
The house is pitch black and dead silent as the entire group files inside.
“Okay, this is fucking creepy,” Brenna remarks.
“It doesn’t feel right when they’re not here,” Summer agrees.
“Who?” I ask. “Hollis and Rupi?”
“Yeah.” Summer vaguely waves a hand over the shadowy hallway. “Listen to it.”
I wrinkle my nose. “To what?”
“Exactly!”
As we enter the living room, the haunting, albeit tinny notes of a familiar song waft out of Brenna’s phone. It’s Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence.” I burst out laughing as she solemnly holds it up for all to hear.
She has a point, though. This is the quietest I’ve ever heard this house. “Where did they go, anyway?” I ask.
“No idea,” Hunter replies. “Hollis said it was a surprise.”
“A surprise for who?”
“For Rupi.”
“So then why couldn’t he tell the rest of you?” I counter.
“Because it was a surprise.”
I let out a sigh. “I don’t understand that guy.”
“Nobody does,” Brenna says frankly. “Don’t waste any more brain cells trying to.”
“Anyway, if you’ll excuse us,” Hunter announces, “Semi and I are heading up to bed. She’s had a tough night.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Summer says sympathetically. She and I aren’t super close, but she surprises me with a hug tight enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
“Thank you. It was terrifying, not gonna lie.”
“I hope your friend is going to be okay,” Fitz says gruffly.
“Me too.” I wonder what the shrinks at the hospital will make of TJ’s mental state. I think he’s suffering from depression, and he definitely has dangerously low feelings of self-worth. I hope whoever he talks to will provide him with the help and guidance he needs.
I’m sure the school or the police already contacted his family, and I’m planning on seeing him the moment he’s allowed visitors. TJ was always there for me when I needed to talk, when I needed someone to listen, and I plan on doing the same for him.
But tonight I don’t want to spend another second reliving what happened on that roof. Dad and I discussed it at length over a cup of coffee in my kitchen, and the pride shining in his eyes when I described talking TJ off the ledge made my heart clench with emotion. I hope he eventually accepts my decision to forgo medical school. Maybe one day he’ll be proud of that too.
I check my phone as we enter Hunter’s room. A million messages await me. Pippa, Corinne, Darius, Pax, my mom, and even one from Nico, who I unblocked after Christmas. It says he heard about TJ, he’s glad we’re both all right, and that I’m a very good friend. It’s a sweet message, and I make a mental note to reply to him, and everyone else, tomorrow.
“Congratulations on your win,” I tell Hunter.
“Congratulations on saving someone’s life.”
“I feel so awful for him,” I admit. “He’s always been shy, reserved. But I didn’t think he was suicidal, Hunter. I truly didn’t.”
“I know, baby.”
“I wish he’d spoken to me about it and shared his feelings, instead of letting things get so bad that he felt like his only option was to kill himself.” I swallow the lump of sorrow in my throat. “I just…you know what, I can’t talk about this anymore tonight. Just distract me. Please.”
“Sure.” He flicks up an eyebrow. “Want me to tell you about the call I got from Garrett’s agent today?”
Panic flies through me. “Oh my God! No!”
“What do you mean, no?”
“Garrett says you’re not allowed to have an agent. It’s against NCAA rules—”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Hunter interrupts with a smile. “He just called to say hello. A very unofficial hello. And, well, perhaps there was also an unofficial expression of interest on both our ends.”
“Both? You’re interested?” I try valiantly not to break out in a satisfied smile. I knew calling Garrett would be the push that Hunter needed.
He nods. “I mean, we don’t even know if any teams will want me after I graduate—”
“They will.”
“—but if one does, and it’s a good deal…” He trails off.
“You’ll sign?” I prompt.
“I’ll sign. But…” He curls his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him. “That means you need to apply to grad schools in whatever city I land in. Or,” he mulls it over, “I suppose we can see where you land and then I’ll tell G’s agent to get me in with that team.”
“We’ll figure something out.” I love how we’re already making plans for the future. And why not? I’m excited for it. I want nothing more than to work toward my master’s and open up a counselling practice, while the man I love plays—
“Oh fuck,” I blurt out. “I forgot to tell you I love you!”
Hunter’s startled gaze snaps to mine. Then he starts to laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I forgot to tell you I love you. I wanted to say it the night you said it, but—”
“You weren’t ready, I get it.” His voice comes out husky.
“It wasn’t the right moment, given the circumstances. But I do love you.” I feel my cheeks heating up. I never thought I’d fall for Mr. Hockey, with his cocky dimpled smiles and strange sense of humor. But life is full of strange surprises. “I love you, Hunter Davenport.”
“I love you, Demi Davis.” He leans down to kiss me. Meanwhile, his warm palms slide underneath the back of my shirt to stroke my back—and then he squawks in horror. “Holy shit, you’re like a block of ice, baby. C’mere.”