Page 23 of Romancing the Grump
Once we’re off the elevator, we part ways, and Alec and Van head to the left while I head to the right.
Two seasons ago, we were doubling up in hotel rooms, but now, everyone has their own room. That alone feels worth a few of Parker’s TikTok videos looking…the way I normally look. Which I guess is brooding?
My phone vibrates in my pocket as soon as I’m in my room, and I pull it out to see a text from my mom.
Mom
Just talked to Blake. Nathan, I’m so worried about him. Has he told you about the new plea deal they’ve offered him? He keeps saying he’s innocent and doesn’t want to plead guilty, but I’m beginning to wonder if he should. The attorney made this sound like the best possible outcome.
I sigh and drop onto the corner of the bed to type out a reply.
Nathan
What’s the deal?
Mom
I don’t understand all the details. Something about eighteen months in juvenile detention, then community service. But that would mean no hockey. You know what that would do to Blake.
I wish I could help Mom understand the details, but Blake’s attorney is avoiding my calls with expert efficiency. Short of driving up to Boston and camping outside his office—something that would technically be a lot easier for Mom than it would be for me—I’m not sure what else to do.
I’ve at least managed to talk to Blake a few more times, and If he’s telling me the truth, he shouldn’t plead guilty to anything. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught up with some older guys on the team whom he wanted to impress. But he wasn’t the one committing a crime.
He definitely doesn’t deserve eighteen months of juvenile detention, and he can’t stop playing hockey. At sixteen, Blake still has some growing to do on the ice, but he’s already better than I was at his age, and he’s in a great program. If he works hard his junior and senior years, I could see him getting drafted into the NHL right out of high school. But that won’t happen if he has a criminal record before he even graduates, not to mention all the time on the ice he would lose.
Nathan
I haven’t gotten through yet, but I’ll keep trying. Have they given you a date for his arraignment?
Mom
Not that I’ve heard. If you could find that out too, that would be great.
I drop my phone onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. I don’t know how I’m supposed to figure any of this out when I can’t be there in person and I can’t get anyone to answer my phone calls.
I think again about the possibility of asking Summer forhelp. I almost did last week at Felix’s, and I’ve thought about it multiple times since, but ultimately, I decided it’s pointless to ask until I actually talk to Blake’s attorney. She can’t give me advice when I can’t tell her what’s going on.
But that conversation has been harder to have than I thought it would be. And now, with a plea deal on the table and the possibility of juvenile detention, I don’t know that I have time to wait for the guy to call me back.
I pocket my phone and unzip my bag so I can change into something besides sweats. Malik and Coach Davis like us to travel in Appies wear, representing the team image, which is fine with me. Our stuff is high-quality and comfortable. But when only a few of us are going out, wearing matching team gear is an excellent way to draw unwanted attention.
I throw on a pair of jeans and a pullover, then retrieve my room key and my wallet from the dresser. The dresser is right beside one of those interior connecting doors in my room, and I don’t realize until I’m right beside it that it’s open.
I move to close and lock it—but I hesitate as the sound of laughter floats through the doorway.
I recognize that laughter. It’sSummer.Which means her hotel room is right beside mine. I look closer, immediately noticing that the door on Summer’s side isn’t fully closed either. It’smostlyclosed, so she probably hasn’t noticed, but it isn’t latched.
I could walk right into her hotel room. Assuming itisher and not someone who just sounds like her. Either way, this has to be a safety issue. Aren’t these doors supposed to remain closed and locked unless someone specifically requests adjoining rooms?
The voice on the other side of the door moves closer, and I strain to listen. It’s definitely Summer, and…did she just say my name?
My heart starts pounding as I lean even closer. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping. I should close the door, lock it, and forget she’s on the other side of the wall. But something holds me there—some desperate curiosity to know what she thinks about me.
“I have no idea,” Summer says. “I’ve wondered a few times, but he…”
And that’s when I lean a littletoo far…and crash forward right into the middle of Summer’s hotel room, landing on the floor at the foot of her bed in a very ungraceful heap.
Summer screams, and the next thing I know, pillows are raining down on me with rapid-fire precision. Something heavy and sharp hits my shoulder—thatdefinitely wasn’t a pillow—then a second blow catches me in the arm. Ashoe.She’s throwingshoesat me. How many shoes does one woman bring on a three-night trip?
