Page 119 of Wicked Serve

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Were you dreaming about that night?”

I hate to lie, but I can’t tell her what I was actually dreaming about. That’s not an option. “Yeah. It happens sometimes. Not so much lately, but I guess... I don’t know. Something triggered it.”

“Your dad?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I steady her with a hand on her back. “Take longer strides. Good.”

She skates with a bit more confidence, her body leaning into the movement. She’s quiet for a full lap before she speaks again. “If there’s anything I can do to help... you’ll tell me, right? These attacks—”

“They only happen sometimes,” I interrupt. “I’m handling them fine.”

“Maybe if you spoke to someone about it, it would help.”

I nearly stop in my tracks, but I promised her I wouldn’t let her fall, and an abrupt change in movement would definitely make her lose her balance.

Therapy. Like talking about my feelings would lead anywhere. Speaking about that nightmare, bringing it into existence, even to denounce it? The thought makes me sick.

“I’m good,” I say shortly. “It’s fine, really.”

“I think telling me about it helped,” she says. “It brought us closer. If you shared some of this with a therapist, maybe then you’d be able to actually cut your dad out of your life.”

“I can’t do that.”

She reaches for the boards, stopping us both in our tracks. I’m the one who nearly falls.

“Come on, Nik,” she says softly.

I can’t cut him out of my life, but I can quit hockey. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s something. It’s all I have, no matter how it hurts. I could tell her about my post-graduation plans right now, but I have the sense that it wouldn’t do anything but start a fight.

There was anger in that dream. Anger that burst out in a physical way. If I lost my temper in real life...

I shake my head, somehow managing a smile. “Let’s try skating in the middle of the rink.”

The next morning, the four of us slump around the kitchen table, fighting through our exhaustion. By the time we got back to the house, it was nearly dawn. Isabelle rests her head against my shoulder, eyes half-shut as she sips her coffee. I’m trying to avoid face-planting into mine.

“I’m skipping my seminar,” Penny says, her voice cracking on a yawn. “I don’t even care.”

“I have work to do,” Isabelle says. “Ugh.”

“At least we don’t have an early practice,” Cooper says. “Ryder would kill us if we showed up looking like this.”

“He would,” Penny agrees.

“Thank fuck,” I say. I accidentally take a sip of Isabelle’s coffee, wrinkling my nose at the sweetness. She laughs as she rescues her mug.

“By the way, I have something for you,” Cooper says to me. “Figured we might as well make it official.”

“Make what official?”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys and tossing them across the table.

Isabelle lifts her head from my shoulder, eyes wide. She looks at her brother, who gives her a half smile before pouring his girlfriend more coffee.

I look down at the keys.

House keys.

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