How he taught me how to skate; That he taught me how to shoot, how to deke, how to lift the puck; I remembered putting on his jersey and sprawling out on my parents’ bed to watch him play on TV.

And I remembered that the reason he was on that fucking helicopter was because he was trying to make it home for my hockey tournament.

* * *

When I arrived home a few minutes past five, Siobhan was in the kitchen, stirring something in a gigantic stainless pot on the stove. I wasn’t sure we even owned a pot that big, but maybe she’d brought it over. At this point, she was essentially our fourth roommate.

Siobhan glanced over as I came in the door. “Hey, stranger.” She took a spoonful of sauce and blew on it before she took a taste. Then she frowned and shook her head, snatching up a spice shaker from the granite counter. Whatever she was making smelled delicious, like garlic and Italian spices mixed with heaven.

“I miss one Saturday night, and you’re all acting like I defected to the other side in a war.” I opened the fridge and pulled an apple out of the produce drawer. “Where’s Ward?”

“He’s washing my car.”

Weird chore for him to take on, but sure. They’d been dating—or doing whatever they did—since May, and I stopped trying to make sense of their dynamic not long after. Shiv fed us a lot and was cool in general, so I couldn’t really complain.

“I’m making spaghetti,” she said. “It’ll be done in half an hour or so.”

“Nice.” I tossed the apple and caught it, lingering in the doorway to the kitchen. “Maybe you could give me some advice.”

“You’re right.” She stirred the sauce, then gave me a once-over. “That shirt and those pants don’t work.”

“Not that.” I glanced down at my jeans and black T-shirt. “But ouch. And good to know.”

“I was kidding. You live in jeans and tees, Carter. You’re safe from the fashion police. What was it?”

I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

“Wait.” She set down the wooden spoon and narrowed her dark blue eyes. “Is this about that girl you’ve been talking to?”

Oh my god. How did everyone know?

“You know what?” I shook my head, backing out of the kitchen. “Never mind. I don’t even know what I’m asking, anyway.” I honestly didn’t. How to make someone text me? That was literally impossible. All I could do was wait, like I had been, while slowly going crazy…like I had been.

Not that I was into her as more than a friend.

A really hot friend.

Dammit.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You didn’t,” I grumbled.