Page 5 of Unbroken Promises

Biting back my snarky reply, I hit the button on the screen, switching the mode to facetime, as I raise my legs and prop the phone against a pillow resting on my lap so the camera angle can be self-sufficient while I finish eating. Seconds later, Bash’s face pops up on my screen. Handsome as ever, his dark wavy hair and square jawline have only been enhanced over the years by the short beard that he now sports, always ensuring it is well-trimmed, his tan skin glowing underneath, despite the dreary winter weather. ‘The ladies love the scruff’ is what he insists every time I tease him about it, but I can’t argue the point. Having no first-hand knowledge of a man’s teasing scruff rubbing against my soft skin, I generally let the comments slide.

“There she is! There’s my girl!” Bashes grin lights up his whole face as he says this and I roll my eyes, even as a smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.

“Alright, alright already. Seriously, why are you trying to butter me up? What do you want?” I am abrupt with him, but I know Bash never takes it personally. It’s all part of my charm as his “Kitty Cat.” Any time I get snarky he simply brushes it aside with a comment about my claws coming out to play. Yeah, the guy is a charmer all right. Always has been.

Bash grimaces slightly at my words, and I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Well. . .”

“Come on dude, out with it already. What’s up?”

“Well . . .” He starts again, “I’m going to be up in your neck of the woods next week, so, obviously, hanging out is mandatory.”

Obviously. We hang out any time he can manage when he is in the area for a game, even if it is just for a quick drink after, depending on what his travel schedule will allow. Between my brother Caleb, who is stuck back in our home state of Maryland, Bash and his twin brother Finn (my other BFF), and Sierra, it can be a real bitch sometimes having my closest friends all spread out across the country. But we do the best we can to get by until the summer months, when he comes for a longer stay, crashing at his twin’s place.

“. . . Okay?” I know, of course, about his upcoming game. I may not follow hockey as closely as I once did. In fact, I actively try to avoid it whenever possible, but this game has been hyped up for weeks. Two major teams, huge competitors, that happened to have the two top defenders in the league (who are also best friends that used to skate for the same college team) playing against one another? Well, that was certainly newsworthy, especially with it being a home game. The upcoming match has been talked about for weeks on the radio, local news stations, everywhere. I can’t seem to escape it, no matter how hard I try.

When he doesn’t continue, my anxiety hikes up a few notches. “What’s the catch Bash? It’s not like this is the first year you’ve been in town for a match. We always meet up after your game if you have time.”

Through the video on my screen, I can see that Sebastian is hesitant, reaching up to grab the back of his neck as he continues. “Well, see. That’s the thing. . . I was really hoping you would come to watch the game this time around. See me play. I mean, it’s been like, way too fucking long since you’ve been to a match. Just that one time when I actually convinced you to fly out and visit. It’s a big match, KC, and I would really love it if you would be there to watch.”

Floored. That is what I am. Absolutely floored. It takes an astounding amount of effort to lock my jaw into place to keep it from falling to the ground. Bash wants me to go to his game? Really? I mean, it’s bad enough trying to get me to go to any hockey match after all the shit went down my senior year of high school, but to go to a game here? Against the Seattle Sabretooths?

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I cannot hide the incredulity in my tone, and don’t even bother trying at this point. “Seriously, Bash?”

“Come on, Danica. Please? It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Like a lot.” While his tone of voice matching the serious expression on his face is interesting, the fact that he called me by my full name? Bash never calls me Danica. As his best friend’s little sister, I have always been ‘Kitty Cat,’ ‘KC’- on occasion (though that is more Finn’s territory), and when the mood strikes, ‘hotness.’ But he almost never calls me Danica. I can’t even remember the last time. No, that’s not true; thinking back on it, the last time was after I was discharged from the hospital for the second time during my Senior year.

“Sebastian-” I am cut off before I can utter another word.

“Listen here, hotness. You are gonna take that damn sexy ass of yours, throw one of my jerseys over it, drag it down to the arena and cheer me on like the motherfucking badass that I am. I have not seen you in ages and thanks to our schedule this season, I can’t spend as much time with you as I normally would after the game, so you have to come. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Ugh.” Damn him and his smug face.

His grin is blinding in response. “That’s all the ‘yes,’ I need. Your jersey will be waiting for you before the game.” There is loud chatter in the background and what appears to be a woman’s manicured hand slides down over his shoulder as a mouth leans close to whisper in his ear. “Oh shit! Gotta go! Talk to you later, hotness! Love ya!” With that, he hangs up and I toss my phone down with a sigh. Ugh, well at least one of us is getting some action tonight.

Chapter Five

Danica

Six Years Earlier

-Late January-

“Danni. Babe, you have to get up. It’s been days. You need to eat.” Sierra sniffs, nose crinkling in disgust. “Hell, you need to shower. Just dosomething.”

Ignoring her, I simply pull the blankets up higher, and roll over to face the discolored dorm room wall. More tears well up, just when I think I have cried myself dry.

“That’s it. I’m calling your brother.”

Fuck her. Fuck all of them. What’s the point? Theo left me. He left. And he isn’t coming back.The tears fall in earnest now as sobs wrack my body once more.After everything. After all the shit we went through together. What he did for me? And now he’s saying he needs someone more ‘mature,’ that I ‘can’t handle it’? As if he doesn’t know the shit I went through, hell, what I’m still going through! Well, fuck him!

I let thetears fall.

“See? See what I mean? It’s been days. She won’t get out of bed. She won’t stop crying, won’t eat. Her roommate couldn’t take it anymore, and packed up and went to crash with her boyfriend. I just. . . I didn’t know what else to do.”

I try my best to tune out the concerned tone of my friend’s voice. If I had any energy left to care, I would probably feel immense guilt about dumping this worry on my friend’s shoulders. She has enough on her plate right now with cramming for the MCATs. She doesn’t need to be dealing with me and all of my issues too.God, I am such a shitty friend. Guess that goes right along with what Theo was saying though. Maybe I really am too immature for him. Maybe I’m just too immature period. It’s no wonder he moved on so quickly.

“It’s okay, I’ve got this. Thank you for all of your help.” The words are whispered, I hear a door closes before soft footsteps move closer. The narrow bed creaks as it shifts under the not so inconsiderable weight of my former hockey-star brother as he balances precariously along the edge.

“Hey Smarty.” The weight of a gentle hand falls on my shoulder, and despite my best efforts to resist, he rolls me until I am facing him.

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