Page 35 of Hockey Boy
“Good boy,” Sara coos. “Now tellme what happened?”
My jaw is clenched so tight that my head pounds as I dive into all the details, starting with the moment Lennox stepped into that office last weekend and how I ended things with Jill and discovered she’d been cheating on me throughout our entire relationship.
“That bitch,” Sara hisses. “Dammit. I saw her in New York last season. I thought it was suspicious, but then I got distracted and totally forgot to mention it. I’m so sorry, Aiden.”
I sigh as I climb out of my Uber and head for the lobby of the Langfield building. “It’s fine. Honestly, she doesn’t matter. I should have listened to all of you when you told me to dump her years ago. The cheating was the icing on top of her awfulness.”
“True,” Sara agrees.
I hit the button for the elevator. “What if she falls for him?” My heart cracks a little as I force the question out.
“Him who?” my brother asks.
Sara scoffs. “Ryder. Stay with the story, Brooks.”
“Who’s Ryder?” he asks.
“The guy in the band,” Sara hisses.
“He’s got arm tattoos.” I let out a dramatic sigh as I step off the elevator onto my floor. “And he can sing. Probably better than me.”
“Definitely better than you,” Brooks agrees.
“Oh my God, you are so not helping.” Sara huffs, the sound crackling through the phone. “Aiden, you’re you. No one else can be you. You make people laugh with your absurd songs. You do ridiculous things like plan a wedding that’s not happening just to make her smile?—”
“Oh, the wedding is totally happening. It’s July twenty-eighth, and it’s for Gavin and Millie. Save the date.”
“Oh,” she squeals. “That’s fun!”
Brooks grunts, closer to the phone now. “Can the two of you focus?”
“Right.” She hums. “You have a bedazzled penis. Not many people can say that.”
“He very well could have one too,” Brooks teases. “I mean, he’s got forearm porn.”
I scoff. “Who said anything about forearm porn?”
“The tats. It’s what Sara calls it. It’s in her books.”
“It’s true. Forearm porn is totally a thing, but you can’t ride a forearm.” Sara’s tone is a bit too seductive for this conversation.
Shuddering, I ask, “Ride a forearm?” Why am I even asking?
“Yeah, like I ride your brother’s?—”
“Crazy girl, you finish that sentence, and we’re going to have a problem,” my brother grumbles.
I snort. “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”
“What?No. We were just getting to the good part.”
Inside War’s apartment—my apartment now, I guess—I slide off my shoes. “The good part?”
“Yeah. When you tell me about the grand gesture you have planned.”
I survey the empty space. The quiet is impossibly loud now that I know just how bright life could be with Lennox in it. Memories of her pink hair and bright smile pummel me, one after another. The way she lit up at the park as she painted a picture of a beautiful wedding. The awe in her expression as she watched me buckle her shoes.
“You’re right,” I whisper, more to myself.