Page 16 of The Ex Puck Bunny
Yeesh. That’s some intense sibling rivalry, not that I know much about that since my brother was so much younger than me.
I’m about to get in my truck when I hear the telltale groaning sound of an engine that refuses to turn over. I lived in Pittsburg for the last few years with its urban life plusses and pitfalls. The air is fresher here, the stars brighter, and I don’t hear the traffic racket in Cobbiton that’s part suburb and part small town. Unlike in the Steel City, if someone is having car trouble, they can rely on a good Samaritan to help out. Pocketing my truck’s keys, that would be me.
I follow the sound to a white Toyota 4Runner—there’s an old Clarkson High School Red Hawks sticker on the rearwindow. When I round to the side, the driver wears a pink hat. She leans her head against the steering wheel as if defeated.
I rap lightly on the window, hoping not to startle Heidi and earn more of her ire.
Of course, she jumps in her seat, splays her finger across her chest, and rolls down the window. “What are you doing here?”
“Heard your car wouldn’t start.”
“These things are supposed to run forever,” she says, referring to the Toyota model.
“Be that as it may, I have to ask the obvious. Is it out of gas?”
She glances at the dashboard. “No, captain. I’m not too dumb to be alive.”
I chuckle at the Captain Obvious allusion—that was one of the jokes Derek and I had. “Could be the battery, fuel pump, or a glitch in the computer.”
Ignoring me, she tries again, but the car won’t start.
“Do you have jumper cables?”
Her eyes slide from side to side. “I don’t know.”
“Seems like something your dad would’ve stashed in the back. Mind if I look?”
She pops the rear hatch.
After removing a folded-up contraption, that in my best estimation is a stroller, I find a little kit that contains car care items.
Heidi sends a text and looks up when I return to the window.
I hold up the jumpers. “Bingo.” I signal that I’m going to pull my truck closer.
The thanks I get is little more than a scowly nod like my assistance is a major inconvenience.
Why the Frost Queen treatment?
Granted, we weren’t ever tight—I spent time at the Rice residence because I was best friends with Derek. It was a bonus that he had video game equipment, food, and his dad built a rink in their backyard every winter. Given my obsession with hockey and general boyish interests—not to mention Derek’s sister was a brat—I never gave much thought to Heidi.
But if I’m not mistaken, she hates me.
After the last few months, I’ve gotten used to the haters, speculating about my marriage, suspension, and breakup. Pulling up the nose of my truck to Heidi’s 4Runner, I wonder if she knows about what happened between Alivia and me.
My ex was not part of the hockey world until we got together, so I can’t fathom that they’d have crossed paths. Then again, Mrs. Gormely, the town gossip, is known for being “all ears” and transmits what she considers news in the community.
Ten minutes later, Heidi’s car still won’t start.
“I can give you a ride home and you can call to have it towed in the morning,” I offer.
“Thanks, Dad,” she murmurs as if it’s my fault her vehicle has broken down.
She opens the passenger door to my truck and I move a heap of stuff out of the way. At present, my life resembles the contents of the seat—random papers, clothes, and food wrappers.
I’m not sure whether normal guys care about the state of their vehicle when a girl gets in—Derek probably doesn’t, but then again he was in the army for six years and keeps things tidy.
I was in survival school until I turned eighteen and that involved me trying to control what I could—namely my surroundings. While growing up, my bedroom, even though I didn’t have much, was as neat as a pin, and I always took reallygood care of my hockey gear. Mostly because it was hard to get it replaced and even then, it was often secondhand.
