Page 158 of Hockey Bois
Nick turned to the familiar voice. “Hi Mrs. Jones.” She’d been his neighbor since he could remember and had always had extra-large candy bars for him and his cousins every Halloween, making her particularly beloved by the Porter-Duffy clan.
“Daphne, dear. I’ve told you a thousand times to call meDaphne.”
“Yes, Mrs. Jones.” Old habits died hard.
“So good to see you. Are you busy with work? What did you say you do again?”
“Accountant. Yeah, busy. I started playing hockey, actually, so I’ve been doing lots of that, too.”
“Oh, I remember hearing about that! You’ll have to show me pictures. Kids your age always seem to have pictures and videos of that sort of thing.”
He laughed. Like he wasn’t well out of college and pushing thirty. “I’m sure I could find something.”
Mrs. Jones nodded before turning her attention to Brady. “And who’s this? The infamous boyfriend your mom’s told me so much about?”
Nick froze.
Brady was a little behind him; there was no way Nick could see his reaction. However, hecouldsee Jenna sliding nimbly through the crowd, brow furrowed in determination, as she made her way to them.
“Thereyou guys are!” she said, voice light and smile a little too fake. “Nick, I think your mom needs help getting stuff from the kitchen? Brady, why don’t you help me and Terry with the tablecloths?” Not giving him a chance to respond, Jenna grabbed Brady’s arm and tugged him in the opposite direction.
Nick didn’t bother to check if his mom actually needed his help. Instead, he went right for the house, through the living room, and back to his room. There might be a box or two of his stuff from school in the closet, but it wasn’treallyhis room anymore; it’d long ago been converted into a guest room. That didn’t matter now; it was still the most comforting place on the property.
He took a seat at the edge of the bed, willing his mind to go blank and his heart to stop pounding. One after another, worst-case scenarios presented themselves. Brady snapping at him. Brady ignoring him forever. Brady quitting the Jagr Bombs to get away from him. Worst, Brady shrugging it off because how could he be upset when he’d never cared about Nick that much anyway?
Before he could spiral too far, Nick pushed himself to his feet and looked out the window. He could make out the edges of the picnic, guests talking and laughing without a care in the world. Slowly, Nick managed to calm his breathing and unclench his fists.
It was stupid to run. He was worried about Brady freaking out, and here he was, freaking out.
It took longer than he cared to admit to find the nerve to go back outside. He barely had the wits to stop by the kitchen and grab a bag of straws to lend an air of truth to what Jenna had said, as if his mom had actually needed his help and he hadn’t run away like a coward.
“I’m overreacting,” he told himself, and took a deep breath. His hand was on the screen door, but he couldn’t make himself push it open. “This isn’t intuition, this ismebeing childish and panicking. I’m projecting onto Brady. The worst that is going to happen is he’ll be annoyed that I ditched him for half an hour.”
Intuition or not, his stomach wouldn’t relax, and he felt like he wanted to throw up.
Jenna saw him first, and she shared a pinched smile with him. “Not a disaster but not great” was how he read her expression, and he decided he should completely ignore the whole thing for as long as he could.
Basically the same approach he’dbeentaking.
“Sorry I took so long,” he said smoothly. Or it might have been smooth if he weren’t clutching the bag of straws like a life jacket. “Dinner ready?”
There was a pause, like Terry and Jenna were holding their breath to see if Brady would say anything.
He didn’t.
“I saw some people head to the grill. Wanna drop those off and meet us there?” Jenna offered diplomatically.
Dinner wasn’t agony so much as an awkward display of Jenna filling the silence with chatter, Terry trying to help while being completely off topic, and neither Nick nor Brady saying much of anything. He didn’t want tostare, so Nick surreptitiously stole glances whenever he could.
Brady was… quiet. He didn’t say much unless asked a question directly, and even his facial expressions were muted. True, he was never a particularly expressive person, but now even his eyes seemed dull and disinterested. The only positive Nick could find was when he stretched his legs out under the picnic table toward Brady, their knees knocking together, and Brady didn’t pull away… but he didn’t relax into the touch, either.
Great. Another thing to overanalyze.
They muddled through their burgers, beer, and dessert with stiff conversation. Brady did lighten up a bit when everyone started grabbing wood for the bonfire, the physical exertion providing an opportune distraction. By the time twilight settled over the farm, though, he looked mentally and physically exhausted.
“Hey,” Nick said and knocked their shoulders together. “Wanna get out of here?”
Brady hesitated. “We can stay a bit longer if you want…”
