Page 18 of Jaded

My number one. My everything.

Except, my thoughts wander. To the boy at the bar who I think might haunt me like a ghost I never wanted but can’t seem to bring myself to banish.

I kissed that boy at the bar last night.

It’s not the first time I’ve kissed a boy; there have been a few over the years that have caught my eye, made me curious. But we never got further than kissing.

I never let one of them pin me against the worn brick outside a bar on a cold October evening. Never let a man press against me, muscle to muscle, hip to hip, chest to chest, while he plundered my mouth—

The music fades and Syd lowers her guitar.

As her eyes skate sideways, I know what’s coming, even before she says, “Soo . . . I invited Avery over.”

I hold in a groan. Of course. She wouldn’t be here making music with her old man without an ulterior motive. At least she let me enjoy it for an entire song, I suppose.

I shift my guitar lower. “And why isn’t Avery at practice today?”

Syd picks deliberately at a fingernail. “I’m not sure—”

“Syd.” I sigh, because I already know the answer. “He got suspended,didn’t he?”

“Look.” Her gaze snaps to mine, almost taking me aback with the ferocity burning in her eyes. “It wasn’t his fault. The other guy deserved it—”

“He got suspended for fighting.” My heart feels cold and achy and sad all at once. Shit, the kid really is me, isn’t he? Next, he’ll be slipping in the back doors of tattoo parlors to trade weed and coke for cheap ink and cheaper booze.

“You don’t understand,” Syd says, but before I can interject with ano, I really, really do understand, the doorbell rings.

So I get up to let in my new not-quite-a-problem.

I open the door, and Avery Bennett marches in, blond locks tumbling waywardly from beneath his Day River High Hockey baseball cap. His mouth’s twisted in half a grin, his pupils too dilated for him to be entirely sober.

The beginnings of a bruise darken the skin around his left eye.

Shit, it’s like looking at a blond version of my past. The thought makes my stomach roll.

“Hey, Bennett,” I say. “You’ve looked better.”

He yanks his ball cap a little lower. “The other guy started it.”

“I mean, they usually do.” My fingers tangle through my overgrown hair. How the hell can someone like me explain the wrong of Avery’s ways when my fists aren’t just scabbed butscarredwith the history of my own violence. “But that doesn’t mean you gotta end it.”

His jaw clenches, and something inside me softens and hardens at once. That bruise isn’t from his fight—shit. I understand this kid in more ways than I want to admit.

Fortunately, Syd slides up behind me, stealing both our attention.

“Do not kiss him in front of me,” I growl, heading back to the living room. “Bennett, you said you wanted to meet Charlie Holland, right?”

“Shiiiiiiit!” Avery skates across the hardwood floor on socked feet, grinning from ear to ear. “Yo! This is so cool!”

“Heard a lot of things about you, kid.” Charlie still hasn’t budged from his place in the armchair. “Most of them good. Well, some of them. Well, your reputation precedes you, let’s leave it at that, eh?”

“Shit. You’re like . . . my hero.” Avery plops down on the couch in the seat I’d previously occupied. Syd burrows in next to him, and I take the end seat.

“You need better heroes, kid.” Charlie shakes his head. “You do not wanna be like me. Or Nat.”

Too late, I don’t say, because it’s not. Just because he started like me, doesn’t mean he has to end like me. In fact, I’d really rather he didn’t, given he’s dating my daughter.

“If it means playing pro hockey . . .” Avery trails off. “This isso ill.”

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