I accepted a bite of his cake. We talked hockey, which we both loved. We talked about classes, about our friends.
“You never talk much about your dad,” he commented.
I shrugged. “He’s not relevant.” I paused. “That sounded terrible. I love my dad. But I don’t want to be Joe Bridges’ kid here.”
“Oh yeah. I get that.”
Just like I knew he didn’t want to be the guy who was in the Swift Current bus crash.
“You must have gotten your love of hockey from him,” he said.
“Yep. Me and my brother.”
“How old is your brother?”
“He’s sixteen. He’s a really good player.”
“Cool. Is he planning to come to Bayard?”
“Actually, I think he’s more interested in golf than hockey.”
“Huh. What do your parents think of that?”
“My mom is gone,” I said quietly. “She passed away when I was sixteen.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It was hard. She was a great hockey mom, totally sacrificing her own life to make sure Ryan and I got to practices and games and tournaments. And with Dad traveling so much, she was on her own a lot.”
“That’s great. What would we be without hockey moms?”
“Right? After Mom died, I tried to keep things going. Dad was away a lot, so I looked after Ryan and kept playing myself, and wow, it was a lot. We didn’t appreciate Mom enough when she was here.”
“That’s probably true of all of us,” he murmured. “Not appreciating what we have until it’s too late.”
“Yeah.” I paused. He was speaking from experience, no doubt. More and more I felt a sense of connection with Hunter, especially since he’d shared his past with me. But things were getting heavy, so I changed the subject. “Anyway. Colette must be good for you. You seem a lot more relaxed this year. Last year you were pretty uptight.”
His lips twitched as he lifted his coffee cup. “I’m always uptight.”
“You’re focused. Intense.” I tilted my head. “You don’t look as rough as you used to.”
“Hey!” His head jerked back. “Thanks a lot.”
I ignored his mock affront. “You don’t have huge hockey bags under your eyes.”
He made a choking sound. “Jesus.”
“You looked like you partied all the time, but I knew you didn’t.” I eyed him curiously.
He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I had a lot of trouble sleeping last year.”
“Ohhh.”
“I still do, but it’s better. Last year I used sleeping pills sometimes, but this year I haven’t had to. I don’t want to use drugs, but it’s hard to function on zero sleep.”
I nodded, my heart tripping. “That is true. I’m glad things are better for you.”
“I had a lot of nightmares,” he added quietly, lowering his gaze to the table. “The first year after the accident. They were tapering off, but starting college messed with me again.”
“It’s a lot of stress. You’re not the only one with nightmares.” I paused, then held up a hand. “Sorry. I’m not minimizing what you went through. I know it’s more than just bad dreams.”
He lifted his gaze and met my eyes. “The first bus trip we went on, I nearly lost it,” he confessed.
Sitting very still, I studied his face. “I didn’t know that.”
He gave a jerky shake of his head. “I hid it. I didn’t want anyone to know it. Except Coach. He knew. I’d done a bunch of desensitization things, even gone on bus rides before I came here to Bayard. But still…it was fucking brutal.”
“Yeah.”
“That first trip, I was trying to act calm, like nothing was wrong. But when I went off on Juice for blocking the aisle, he said, ‘Whoa, someone forgot his meds today’ and I nearly punched him.”
“Oh shit.” I stared at him in dismay. “Asshole.”
“People say stupid shit without thinking about it.”
Although Hunter had confided in me and talked more about his ordeal, I didn’t know exactly what he’d through. But I knew he was very mindful of who he talked to about this stuff. He didn’t want to look weak in others’ eyes. Again, I wished he didn’t feel that way. I wished he didn’t have to feel that way. I wished he could have been honest with his teammates about what he was going through. But I got why he didn’t.
Friday night I went to a party at Jude’s place, for his birthday. He and I’d been going out together for a couple of months. I liked him, but I wasn’t crazy in love with him. Which seemed to be how I felt about most guys I went out with, if I found a guy who could handle me.
The party was loud and noisy and we were playing Drunk Jenga when Hunter arrived. A cheer went up upon seeing him step into the living room. He shook his head, one corner of his mouth lifted.
“Hey! You need a drink!” I called to him, jumping up.
“Yeah. I do.” He looked at Jude. “Happy birthday, man.”
“Thanks, Morry!” Jude stumbled over to Hunter to hug him. He was half wasted, but why not, it was his birthday.
I led the way to the kitchen to get Hunter a beer, bopping along to the music blasting from the speakers. I opened the fridge door, then paused. Looking over my shoulder, I asked, “Do you want beer? Or some of my Mexican punch?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Mexican punch?”
I pointed to the big bowl on the counter, now about half full of bright orange beverage.
“What’s in it?” he asked doubtfully.
“Juice. And tequila. Lots of tequila. Grenadine. 7-Up. It’s really good!”
“You’re cute and all, but I’m not drinking that shit.”
After a startled beat, I burst out laughing. “Okay, fine.” I hand him a beer. “Why are you so late? And where’s Colette?”
He rubbed that back of his neck. “We broke up.”
My jaw came unhinged. “What? Why?”
He didn’t meet my eyes and shuffled his feet. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You look pissed. What happened?” I was a little tipsy, but sober enough to read the look on his face.
He sighed. “You were right. She was steamed that I went for coffee with you the other night.”
My eyes nearly popped right out of their sockets. “Are you shitting me?”
“I shit you not.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I glared at him, although it was Colette I was mad at. “That’s just stupid! You can go for coffee with whoever you want!”
“That’s what I told her.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Did you dump her because of that?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I’m not staying with someone who thinks she can tell me who I can be friends with.”
Suddenly, it dawned on me that this happened because of me. My chest tightened and I swallowed thickly. “Ah, hell. I’m sorry, Hunter.”
“It’s okay. It’s her problem.”
“Yeah, but…I feel responsible.”