Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)(2)
For me, it feels like the start of one. I joined a fraternity at the start of school because I wanted a family who wouldn’t let me down like my real one does. I thought my frat brothers would be there through the good and the bad, that I’d finally have people I could rely on, but it didn’t happen. I sensed I’d made a mistake freshman year, but I persevered thinking it’d take a while to feel like family. I knew I’d made a mistake when all the shit happened with the rink at the start of the year and the only people who were there for me are in this room.
It was the worst time of my life, which says a lot, and I was bottling up how embarrassed I felt. Then one day Henry asked me if I was alright and I told him I was fine. I expected that to be the end of it, but he told me he knew I was lying and he’d be back when I was ready to talk. Every week we had the same conversation, until I bumped into him over winter break.
I’d tried to go home, but only lasted twenty-four hours with my dad’s post-casino-loss drunk, incoherent bullshit and my mom’s borderline professional inability to hold him accountable for his actions before I was on my way back to campus. Henry was heading back to the hockey house to get his art supplies and when he saw me, he asked me if I was alright, and for the first time, I told him no.
After spending so many years too ashamed and angry about my dad’s gambling problem to tell anyone, it all came tumbling out like word vomit. Not even Coach Faulkner or Nate know the full extent of my home life, but I told Henry fucking everything.
He stood there, a canvas tucked under his arm, listening.
When I was done, feeling like a ton of bricks had been lifted from my shoulders, he asked me if I wanted to get Kenny’s wings and hang out with him over the break. He didn’t ask me questions, he didn’t offer advice, he didn’t judge me. That’s why I immediately said yes when he asked if I wanted to live with him and Robbie.
The room has descended into chaos like it always does when everyone is together, with multiple conversations overlapping, the next louder than the last. People mistake me being quiet for being shy, but I’m not shy. I don’t even think I’m that quiet, it just looks that way because of how loud everyone else is. I prefer to sit and listen than be at the center of everything, like my teammates. There’s too much pressure with being the center of attention, too many opportunities to fuck everything up. I’m much happier being an observer, watching from the outside.
Making my way into the kitchen, I grab a water from the refrigerator, grabbing another when I sense someone behind me.
“You ready for your official first party?” JJ says, accepting the bottle from my hand.
We both lean against the kitchen counter, looking into the living room. “I think so. Don’t piss Robbie off is the only rule, right?”
JJ snorts as he unscrews the lid of his drink. “It happens to be my favorite pastime, but it depends how hard you want to be worked next season.”
“I think I’ll stay on his good side.”
“Feel like home yet?” he asks, taking a sip of the water.
I’ve spent a lot of time with JJ over the past few weeks and have discovered that beneath the joker persona, he’s very brotherly. After using my savings to buy myself an old truck a couple of months ago, I became the unofficial moving guy for everyone’s boxes. It was nice to feel useful, so it didn’t bother me until Lola was worried her stuff would accidentally get shipped to Nate’s new place in Vancouver and she drew dicks on the boxes that weren’t hers or Stassie’s.
JJ and I did the drive to his new place in San Jose with a truck bed full of the decorated boxes, getting funny looks from other drivers for the entire journey. You learn a lot about who someone is when you’re stuck in an enclosed space with them for ten hours. Ironically, JJ joked that I give hardly anything away.
“Getting there,” I admit. “Big change from what I’m used to.”
“Remember, you belong here. Everyone wants you here, you hear me?” he says quietly.
I’ve never voiced my insecurities to any of the guys, but somehow JJ knows I keep myself on the outside of things. I called him perceptive once and he said it’s because he’s a Scorpio.
Whatever that means. I appreciate it anyway and for the first time in a long time, I feel understood. Which is a strange feeling to accept, since a lot of the time I don’t understand myself.
“I hear you,” I confirm. He slaps me on the shoulder before heading back to his seat in the living room. I follow slowly, throwing myself into the seat beside Henry.
Robbie claps his hands once, giving us all hockey flashbacks as we instinctively give him our immediate attention like well-trained dogs.
“Such a mini-Faulkner. Jeez,” Nate grumbles, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat.
“You know I flinch during rounds of applause now,” Bobby adds. “I think it’s an actual trauma response.”
“I hear that clap when I’m alone,” Mattie says, nodding in solidarity.
“Nah,” Joe snorts. “That’s Kris next door. Just the one. Clap her cheeks, singular.”
Robbie hisses something under his breath as Kris launches a couch cushion at Joe, which he catches and throws back, chaos ensuing.
“Where were these defensive skills when you played hockey, Joe?” Henry asks, catching him off guard long enough for one of Kris’ cushions to smack him right in the face.