Page 55 of For Crosby

“If I suck it up, I’ll enter the draft after the season and be done with it all. If I make waves, it could ruin my chances. Believe me, I wanna kick the shit outta everyone involved, but it’ll only hurt me in the long run.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can handle it.”

She was silent again for a long time.

My fingertips drifted over her back, tracing small circles over the soft skin above the towel.

“There’s gotta be a way to get even,” she said.

“Oh, believe me. I’ve thought about it.”

“We could hire someone.”

“Hire someone?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you seen those crime shows about people hiring hit men on the Internet?”

“I don’t want to kill them.”

She laughed. “No, not kill them. Hire someone to prank them or something. Oh my God. Did you really think I wanted you to put a hit out on the hockey team?”

“Kinda.”

She snorted and it was so damn adorable.

“Thanks for trying to help. But it’s gonna be okay.”

Another long silence passed. I wondered if she was trying to decide if that was a lie or if she was just brainstorming more ways to bring down the hockey team. I liked that about her. She was determined and sassy and put up with no nonsense—not even mine.

“Are you planning to visit your parents?” she asked.

My body tensed at the mention of my parents. “Huh?”

“I heard you on the phone.” She lifted her head and buried her chin in my chest. “Do you wanna see them?”

I shrugged. “Maybe my mom.”

“Not your dad?”

I shook my head.

“I’m just gonna say this and you can do with it what you want. But bottling stuff inside eventually becomes too much. And as much as you’re unhappy with your dad right now, you might feel better if you said whatever it is you really want to say to him. You know. Get it off your chest.”

I hadn’t thought of that. When I visited my mom, the sole purpose of my visit was to lift her spirits. No one said I had to do the same for my father. I could go in there and let him know how angry I was at him for destroying our family.

“I can drive you,” Sabrina said.

My brows shot up. “To Texas?”

She nodded.

“It’s eight hours away.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“There are a lot of places I’d like to take you. Prison’s not one them.”

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