Page 32 of Jaded

A huffed little laugh escapes her lips. “But why should I deserve that when there are kids like Avery . . .”

His name hangs between us.Kids like Avery.Like me. Kids who work hard, dream harder, break hardest of all. Fall flat. Lie flat.

The kids who live and die in Day River. Like a fallen pond skater, trapped under the ice of the city. Part of the tapestry, part of the darkness. Perpetuating the cycle.

Day River knows how to dig its claws in andhold. Aside from the Dingoes players who blow through for half a season, nobody comes into this town, and nobody gets out. Nobody but Jess.

I don’t blame him for leaving. And as much as I blame him for walking out of my life, for barely calling . . . I get it too.

“Avery could still do anything he wants,” I say, keeping my voice steady, firm. “He’s smart and talented, but he sells himself short. Skips school and practice because he doesn't think they’ll ever get him anywhere. Because he doesn't believe in his own abilities.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Syd nods her agreement, tilts her head towards me, green eyes bright in the darkness. “But he’s good, right? You know he is. He could be so great!”

I nod, because she’s right. It’s true. Avery has talent even for the kids growing up in this ice-town. “He should be talking to his coach about setting up meetings with recruiters.”

“He’s not doing that,” Syd hums, and her disappointment—her anxiety—is an almost tangible thing between us. “Coach talks to him about it, and he just brushes him off.”

I keep my eyes on the road, on that narrow beam of light in the otherwise all-consuming dark. “He could definitely play in college or juniors. Hockey’s in his future, if he doesn’t fuck it up.”

Syd sighs, tips her head back on the seat rest. “He’s gonna fuck it up.”

“Honestly, Syd. He could.” I chew my lower lip, then offer her a bit of truth. “He reminds me a lot of me when I was a kid.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think I’m always nagging him about going to class?” I offer her a grim smile. “Not starting fights and doing stupid shit? Becausethoseare the reasons I am not playing for the Dingoes today.”

“Yeah.” Syd’s eyes flutter closed.

“Thosereasons, Syd.” I keep my voice firm, leave no room for argument. “I could barely keep my head out of my ass long enough to get to practice once a week. You know how many games ended in mefighting? Coach kicked me off the team before the end of my senior year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I snort. “I was a loser. I was going nowhere, and everybody saw that. Told me that. Believed that, so I believed it too. Acted on it. Maybe if I’d had a Syd in my life to steer me straight, things would’ve been different.”

Her mouth twitches in half a smile. “Maybe.”

“But at the same time,” I say, because as much as she saved me, gave my life meaning, direction, purpose . . . “His future—his happiness—isn’t your responsibility. You know that, right?”

A tiny sigh escapes Syd’s parted lips. “Yeah, I know.”

“But your future is your responsibility.” I reach across the center console to set a hand on her shoulder. Squeeze. “And it’smine. ’Cause you’re my kid, and I’ll do anything and everything to help you live your dreams. To see you happy. Whether you want me to or not. Because that’smydream.”

Syd’s mouth twitches as she fights a smile. Finally, she gives in and lets the white grin crawl over her face. “Bawww, thanks, Dad. That’s real cute.”

“Fuck off.”

She laughs.

I laugh too. “You ready to drive some random dude’s Impala to Chipotle?”

Chapter 9

Nat

Thenight-darkstreetsofDay River unfold around my car. In the hours since Syd and I enjoyed our Chipotle at a chipped plastic table, it’s gotten impossibly darker. Colder.

During sunlit hours, the city is a hollow broken beast of cracked pavement, worn-down brick, and cold steel—breathless and soulless. Devoid of color and life, like a city of spectres.

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