Page 113 of Collide
Summer: Maybe I should tell him I’m pregnant to get a reaction out of him.
Amara: Brutal.
Amara: But when he finds out his grandbaby is the spawn of a hockey player he might rejoice.
Summer: Never say that again.
Amara: Why? Unless you’re finally sleeping with someone other than Dalton’s pride and joy.
Amara: I have the perfect baby names. What do you think of Puckerton? Or Rinkerella?
I snort at the text and put my phone back in my purse. But when I look up my parents are watching me expectantly.
My mom gives me a nosy look. “So, anything new at Dalton?”
“Nope.”
“Any new friends orboyfriends?” The wiggle of her brows only makes my eyes narrow.
“Not really.”
She clasps her hands. “Sampson’s mom said you and him have been quite close.”
I drink my water, hoping I'll drown. “We’re friends, Mom.”
“Leave the girl alone, Divya. You weren’t telling your parents about us when we got together.”
She smiles sweetly, putting her hand over his on the table.
“That’s because you two were having unprotected sex.”
“Summer!” They both scold in unison.
I laugh, seeing their blanched faces. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret.” I point to myself.
The shake of my dad’s head and the glare from my mom fills me with contentment.
When the server takes my plate, I push my chair back. “Well, this was fun but I need to get back.”
“I’ll take you,” my dad says.
I freeze. A girl can only handle so many awkward interactions in one day. “I already called an Uber.”
“Cancel it. I’m taking you.”
Not having to take an Uber, as a girl traveling alone is a relaxing option, but sitting in my dad’s SUV makes my chest wind tighter. I knew I should have brought Aiden’s truck, but parking that massive thing is a pain. Staring out the window isn’t helping the time go any faster. Neither is counting each rain droplet that pings against the window.
He turns on the radio, and of course, it’s tuned to a couple of announcers arguing about last night’s regular season game.
“Did you watch?” he asks.
“I don’t watch hockey.”
My dad chuckles. “Are you kidding? You would paint your face and make sure I had rink side seats to every playoff game.”
I swallow the thick ball in my throat. “Anymore. I mean I don’t watch hockey anymore.”
The silence after that is so loud, it rings in my ears. Thankfully, my dad feels it too because he turns up the radio volume. The hosts switch to D1 hockey to discuss Dalton versus Dartmouth.
