Page 74 of Shutout
“Is that why you have a scar on your face?”
I’m surprised he even noticed.
“Yep, it’s a badge of honor.”
I know I’ve said too much, because it sends Dad down the tried and true path of looking down on me. “You wouldn’t get hurt so much if you’d become a forward like me.”
“Actually.” Liv surprises us all by speaking. All three of us turn to her. “This is Brooke’s first injury in his entire college hockey career, which you’d know if you watched his games.”
You could hear a pin drop.
I’m doing everything I can not to pull Olivia into a kiss that would scandalize Lauren. Especially when Liv turns twinkly brown eyes at me, like she knows she did some mischief that can backfire on us but is still proud about it. I at least allow myself to run my thumb up and down the skin at the back of her hand.
“Well.” Lauren puts her hands on her hips. “The turkey still needs at least an hour in the oven. Why don’t you two go watch a show in the meantime?”
“Or you could play with your brother,” Dad says.
I ignore that because Dad complains about me the most in occasions where he considers I could be a bad influence on Lee. “C’mon, Liv. Let’s go see if my room’s been converted into a storage closet yet.”
She bites her lip not to laugh at what a little shit I am. I’mmuch more pleased that she lets me keep her hand in mine as we slide off the stools, though.
“Fine, but keep the door open,” Dad says in a dark tone of voice.
I don’t retort jack squat to that. He’s been giving us the same shit since Liv and I hit puberty, even though back then Liv could’ve kicked my ass to kingdom come if I got too close. She’d still do the same now if I tried anything.
Upstairs, it turns out that my room is intact. I don’t know why it surprises me, because it’s not like they’re actually lacking storage space in a house with six rooms and half as many occupants. I don’t know if it’s that they’re too lazy to do anything with the space, or that the possibility of me coming over on occasion isn’t as remote in their mind as it is in mine.
I stand by the door as Liv walks in. Our arms stretch but she keeps going, until our hands eventually break apart. She sets her tea mug down on the bedside table and grabs the remote before crawling on my bed like we’re back in high school, face down with her feet toward my pillows. Although not on them, because she’s too short for the massive bed.
Tension finally drains from my body. This is okay. Familiar. Much nicer than downstairs. I take my usual spot on the carpet at the foot of the bed, facing the massive TV.
“What are we watching?”
“I don’t know,” she says from above me. “Let’s see if we find a classic from our time.”
I snort. “Don’t make us sound so old.”
“You’re right, we’re not even old enough to graduate from milk.”
Dad would be pissed if he knew the kind of crap that goes down at the Bolt House, then.
Or not. He wouldn’t bother to ask.
Liv flips a few channels until she finds some Naruto rerun and stays there. I lean my head back against the edge of themattress and grunt. “That wasn’t so terrible. I don’t know why I was freaking out.”
“The possibility of a big fight is still there.” Her sigh fans against my hair. “Sorry if I turn out to be the spark that lights that fire. I just got so annoyed earlier.”
“He has that effect on people.”
I freeze when her fingers start playing with my hair.
This is also familiar. Sometimes, when we were kids, I’d lay my head on her lap while we were reading comics or studying, and she’d absentmindedly play with my hair. But it’s been so long. And it doesn’t feel the same anymore. She rakes her fingers on my scalp just the same, but it’s no longer relaxing. If anything it makes my blood boil even more.
“Did you fight last year?” she asks.
I groan, not necessarily because of the question. “I thought we weren’t talking about last year.”
“Last time, I promise.”
