Page 35 of Anatomy of a Player

“I saw Whitney on campus today,” Dane said as we walked into the weight room. “She was nice to me—you might have some competition.”

A toxic burning churned through my gut, stopping me short. Today and I weren’t getting along as it was, and the last thing I needed was another thing to piss me off.

“Bro, I was kidding. I mean, she was nice to me, but notthatnice. You should’ve seen your face, though.”

“Word to the wise? Don’t anger your spotter before you lift, or accidents might happen.”

Dane simply laughed it off, the way he did most everything. He moved over to the bench, slid the weights into place, and then lay back and gripped the bar. Between pumps, he attempted to talk, but it came out all choppy. “So how’s…everything…with…your class?”

His arms shook as he worked on the last few reps, and I gave it a second to see if he’d need me. He pushed the bar home and metal clanked against metal.

“We’ve got a quiz this week, but I’ve been hitting the books hard and I’ve got another study group scheduled, so I’m on top of it.” I hoped so, anyway. If it required any more study time, I didn’t know how I could possibly pull it off, because I could hardly keep up the pace as it was, and neglecting my other classes in favor of statistics meant the rest of my grades would start slipping soon.

“What about things with your mom?” Dane sat up and mopped his face with the bottom of his shirt.

“Same old same,” I said, switching spots. To prove I could take on more, I added weight to the bar before lying back.

“Liar,” Dane said. He waited until I nearly maxed out my reps, then added, “I know something’s up.”

I did two more slow, grueling reps, set the bar in place, and sat up with a sigh. “She’s getting married.” Saying it out loud was a relief in a way, but the anger came fast on its heels, scorching it within seconds and burning through my body.

Dane blinked at me, reconciling whatever he’d been expecting with the news. “Oh. I was worried that she was drinking again. Maybe getting married will help keep her from slip—”

“To Raymond.” I curled my fists tighter. “She’s getting married to Raymond. Day after Christmas.”

Dane clenched his jaw and I realized mine was clenched, too, so tight it ached. “How could she…? Shit, bro.”

“I tried to talk her out of it at first, but, as usual, she won’t listen to me. She claims he’s changed. Not only does she want my support, during one of her guilt-trip phone calls she told me she wants me to walk her down the aisle.”

Another form of manipulation, no doubt. She’d begged me to give Raymond a second chance, even though it’d be more like his hundredth chance. I still remembered the day she’d told me, “Trust me, Hudson, it’s over between us and I’m never going back, I promise.” I’d been so relieved, and then two weeks later I came home from school to find him on the couch like he’d never left.

I didn’t trust her, and I sure as hell didn’t trust him—and I never would. Since I’d refused to take any part in the sham of a wedding, her newest attempt to get me to change my mind involved asking if I’d give her away. Like she’d ever belonged to me in the first place. I was always the complication, the thing that got in her way.

“Punching bag?” Dane asked, jerking his chin toward the hundred-pound one in the corner.

“Yeah.”

We rotated around the room, from bag back to weights, pushing our muscles until our arms and legs felt like wet noodles.

While pushing myself to the limit had helped cool the rage, the irritation and anxiety remained. My mom had told me she’d give me time to think over her request, but that she hoped I knew how important it was to her that I be there for her big day.

Never mind that I thought it would eventually be her downfall. And I wouldn’t be there to pick up the pieces this time. More than once I’d thought I might have to forget school and hockey to keep her sober and on track, but I couldn’t go back. I’d get sucked into the drama, probably end up arrested for assault, and then my life would spiral out of control right along with hers.

At some point, she needed to be the adult, even if her decisions proved she never would.

The messier my thoughts became, the worse my anxiety. I needed a distraction. A blond one who quotedStar Warsand had a laugh that made everything seem like it’d be okay.

Instead of waiting for the next game, or a fortuitous run-in, I decided to take things into my own hands. I’d dropped her off the other night, so I knew where she lived. I showered and drove over to her place.

When I walked up the stairs to the second floor, I noticed the cool bite in the air, a sure sign of an oncoming snowstorm—I’d bet money that tomorrow Boston would wake up to a dusting of snow.

Guilt rose, dragging my footsteps down.No more bets.The one I’d made was eating at me enough without adding more to the mix.

I hesitated at the first door, unsure if it’d been this one or the next that Whitney had disappeared into. I eyed the second, decided it was the right one, and then took a couple of large strides over to it and knocked.

A moment later, Whitney answered the door, and I did an internal fist pump that I’d chosen correctly. I flashed her a wide smile. “Hey.”

She frowned at me. “What are you doing here?”

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