Puck Drills & Quick Thrills (CU Hockey 5)

I shake my head and click out of it. It’s fun to imagine, but there’s no way I could ever actually ask.

The image is still tormenting me when I walk into Bean There on Monday morning though. I order my coffee and step aside just as a familiar face walks in. Westly notices me at the same time as I see him, and we exchange those awkward, polite smiles people do. Normally I’d be content to ignore him, but after assuming the worst of his brother, I figure I can at least spare that.

Unfortunately, Westly takes that as an opening and joins me after ordering. “Hey, Ekst—”

“Jasper. Please.”

“Jasper. What’s up?”

I shake my head. “We don’t need to do this. I’m perfectly content with you going back to ignoring my existence.”

“I’ve never ignored you.”

“Trust me when I say this isn’t the first time we’ve both been in this coffee shop at the same time.” It hasn’t been often, but it was clear he didn’t recognize me.

“Huh. Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Why are you sorry?”

He thinks about it for a moment. “I … don’t know.”

I almost laugh. “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. Let’s get our coffees and go on with our day like this blip never happened.”

“Sure.”

A thick, awkward silence fills the space between us.

“I have nothing against you, you know,” he says like he can’t stop himself.

“Good to know.”

“That whole thing, it was like we had our wires crossed, that’s all.”

I hum, hoping if I don’t engage, he’ll go away.

“And I really am sorry hockey players broke your face. That’s not me though. Like, I would never.”

I chuckle dryly. “That was the climax of years of bullying. I’m sure you think you weren’t like that, but when you tell teenagers they’re destined for greatness, it tends to go to their heads. They think they’re better than the rest of us and don’t even notice it.”

He frowns. “You think that’s what it was?”

“Either that or they genuinely enjoyed it. And even to me that option seems bleak.”

“What, umm, did your parents do about it?”

“Excuse me?” Have I fallen into an alternate universe where I not only talk to Westly Dalton, but I apparently bare all?

“I just mean if you were my kid, I’d be pissed.”

“They gave me the sage advice of ‘stay away,’ which of course worked a treat.”

Westly cringes.

“Why are you so interested?”

“No reason.”

“Right. Because this is the sort of conversation we routinely have.” I watch as he shifts his weight, opens his mouth, closes it again, and then I remember that I’m supposed to be ending this conversation, not encouraging it. “Never mind. My coffee will be ready soon.”

“My little sister’s being bullied,” he says in a rush.

Oh. Oh. It’s my turn to shift, because that’s not the type of thing I can brush aside easily. “I’m sorry. How old?”

“Eleven.”

“Ouch.” I want to reassure him in some way, but I know nothing about his situation or his sister.

“They’ve been calling her … bad things. About being gay.”

I flinch, jaw tightening. “I see bullies haven’t bothered to change their material.”

“Yeah, so I don’t think the stay-away advice is the angle I want to take.”

“Good choice,” I agree.

“What … can I ask what you wish your parents had said instead? She doesn’t want me to talk to the school—”

“Of course not, that will make things worse.” I’m not sure how to answer his question though. I’ve never considered what I wished they’d done instead. My parents love me, and I know their advice came from a time of harden the fuck up, but … “Talk to her. Openly. Check in with her and make sure she knows she has a safe space, and try to give her some perspective outside of school. Maybe find something for her to do where she can make friends instead.”

“She has plenty of friends, that’s part of the problem. They’re all boys, and I think the other girls are jealous.”

“Ah, well. She’s already got one up on me, then.”

“Yeah …” Westly says. “Your friend Dave sort of mentioned something about that.”

“Of course he did.” My name is called by the barista before I can find out what in the damn hell he and Dave were talking about. I retrieve my coffee and know I should head for the door, but my feet don’t listen. I pause by Westly again. “My advice? Forget about everything Dave told you.”

“Including your high school reunion?” Westly asks innocently as my gut takes a nosedive.

“Especially about that.” I go to leave, but I can’t make myself again. “What exactly did he say?”

“Can’t remember. You told me to forget.”

It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t elaborate. Though, now that he’s brought it up, I have the opening I need to at least ask, but that would require swallowing my pride. “I’m sorry about your sister.”