Page 113 of A Little Jaded
I nod. “Of course.”
“See you, son,” he adds to Ev.
As I watch them go, I tug my wet jacket tighter around me, trying to curl in on myself, when a couple of puck bunnies move toward me. My spine straightens as they giggle. One of them calls me a slut under her breath as they slip past me and head into the bathroom. It only makes me feel more awkward and uncomfortable.
I know Everett hears it, too, because his glare follows them until the heavy bathroom door cuts off his view. He turns to me, his gaze softening. “Let’s go, yeah?”
I nod and let him lead me to his car. Apparently, his coach gave him permission to drive home with me instead of riding with the team, and I don’t even give him crap for calling in a favor. I’ve been too lost in my own head.
It’s cold out. Dark, too. The sun set at least an hour ago, and flecks of snow fall from the sky. I push my wet, stickyhair away from my face, and Everett opens the passenger door, guiding me into his car.
After rounding the front of it, he turns the ignition on, sets the heat to full blast, and forces my cold hands to the vents. “You okay?”
I shake my head and avoid his gaze, staring out at the falling snow instead. “I’ve been better.”
“What happened?”
“Apparently, he knew me, or at least knewofme,” I clarify. “Called me a traitor for wearing a Hawks jersey and said I didn’t belong at the Grizzlies’ arena.” I scoot a little closer to the door and rest my head against the cold passenger window. “To be fair, he isn’t entirely off-base.”
“I should’ve kicked his ass,” Ev replies.
“Pretty sure you’ve already kicked enough asses because of me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I bite my lip but stay quiet, shaking my head again. “Nothing, I’m just…cold.”
I can feel his stare on the side of my face, but I don’t look at him to confirm my suspicion. I’m too caught up in everything that happened tonight and the aftermath I need to wade through.
“You seem…off,” he decides. When I don’t reply, he puts his car in drive and turns onto the main road. “You sure everything’s okay?”
Am I sure everything’s okay? I want it to be. I hope it is. But is it selfish? Am I the problem?
“How was sitting next to my parents?” he prods, and I know he’s trying to change the subject, but it only fuels my muddied thoughts. “Were they okay?”
“Your parents are amazing.” I peek at him and force a sad smile. “I really like them.”
“They really like you, too.”
I don’t know if it’s true or if Everett’s only being nice, but I hope it is.
“They’re good people,” I reply.
With a soft smile of his own, he nods. “Yeah, they really are.”
“It’s fitting,” I add. “That your dad is a paramedic, what with your mom’s and your sister’s epilepsy.”
“Yeah.” He draws in a breath. “I don’t know what they’d do without him.”
“And you.”
He frowns. “What about me?”
“You're their other hero. Their other protector.”
Squeezing the back of his neck, he rests his elbow against the driver’s side window and mutters, “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” I argue. “And then with Dylan’s head injury?—”