Page 37 of Last Boy

“Yeah, I know.” He gives me a small nod. “You know I heard the kid who was dealing him drugs overdosed and died? I keep thinking that could have been Huff.” His face pales. “Just goes to show we don’t all know each other as well as we’d like to think we do.”

I don’t tell him that I knew Van for most of my life. Or that despite him being a drug dealer, he had a good heart but had been born into a world that he couldn’t escape. That, unlike Hunter and so many others, Van truly did think he didn’t have any other option in life but to follow in his father’s footsteps. I knew him enough to know that if Van had had more guidance, he wouldn’t be dead right now.

“He’ll be okay,” I tell him, knowing he’s worrying about Huff.

“What if he’s not though? What if he gets out of rehab and then it gets worse?”

I think back to my friendship with Van—a friendship I abandoned and never looked back. I can’t turn back time and be better. But I can vow to be better from here on out.

“Then, we’ll all be here for him to remind him of how much he has to lose,” I say evenly. “We’ll keep a better eye out. We’ll be better friends to him.”

Giving me an unsure look, he finally nods. “Yeah, we will.” He gives me a small grin. “Good job this weekend, James. You’re playing like a Wolf now.”

“Thanks.” I tip my chin down. “I appreciate that.”

Just when the team is starting to see me as a true teammate and good player, I’m going to fuck it up by distracting myself with making Poppy Wilson forgive me.

But in a perfect world, it’s not just about hockey. Or Poppy. It’s both.

And eventually, I will have both.

The bus pulls into a parking lot at Brooks University, and I quickly begin gathering my shit up.

First stop, find Poppy.

Poppy

I furiously hit the keyboard of the laptop the school has been letting me borrow. I’m rarely behind on assignments, but this week has been grueling, and my schoolwork has been put on the back burner.

I have yet to go to the trailer and go through Van’s stuff. But I did get his obituary written, as well as worked out a payment plan for his cremation. To add to the craziness, I have been practicing for a huge part in The Nutcracker, which I was chosen for at the beginning of the school year. Ryann and I both have big parts in it. And while I’m thrilled to do it with her, it’s another thing on my already-full plate.

But it’ll be fine. This, too, shall pass.

“Knock, knock,” Ryann says, pushing on my door and peeking in at me. “You’ve got a visitor, babe.”

Looking up from the computer, I narrow my eyes. “Who?”

“A tall, delicious Walker James.” She winks. “Yummy.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” I tilt my head to the side. “I’ve seen you and Watson Gentry lookin’ awfully snuggly together. And after all that talk that you weren’t interested.”

“This isn’t about me right now,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I told him you’d be right out.”

Turning my attention back to the screen, I shake my head. “Nope. Tell him I’m sick. Tell him I have diarrhea or am projectile puking. Anything. Just don’t let him in.”

“You’re going to tell a man who looks like that, that you’re in here, shitting your pants?” She gives me an are you serious look. “For real?”

“No.” I smirk. “You are.”

“You are too much,” she huffs out before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

I’m just getting back into the swing of typing when my door flies open. Looking up, I shut my computer and shoot Walker a glare.

“For real? Why are you here?”

“You don’t look like you’re sick, Poppyseed.” He takes a few steps forward, stopping at the end of my bed. “In fact, you look pretty fucking healthy.”

“So, take the hint that I don’t want company.” I shrug. “Why do you insist on showing up where I am when I clearly don’t want you to?”

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