“I can see that,” Dad says dryly.
I shake my head in confusion, then glance over at Hazel, who’s next to my mother. She offers a slight smile, as if to say, Look what the cat dragged in, right?
“Yeah. I’m here. I showed up early.”
“Why weren’t you answering your phone?” Mom asks.
“I forgot it at home.” I stare at my parents. “Why are you guys here?”
“We came to support you,” Mom replies.
Dad claps me on the shoulder. “This is a big game for you. And if I’m being honest, your mother and I felt bad about not making more of an effort to attend your games. Now that you’ll be in the pros, your parents will be expected to make an appearance, right?”
“I don’t think anybody cares if some random rookie’s parents are in the box or not, Dad.”
“Random rookie?” he echoes. “No way!”
“You’re going to be a superstar,” Mom reminds me, a big smile on her face. “And we’re so very proud of you.”
My eyes suddenly feel hot. Damn it, I can’t tear up right now. Got a game to concentrate on.
“Thank you,” I say, and, yeah, my voice is a bit hoarse. I clear my throat. “I know you guys don’t care about hockey much, but I appreciate that you came today.”
“We might not be hockey fanatics, but we’re Jake fanatics,” Mom declares.
Hazel snorts. “That was so lame, Mrs. C.”
“We should take our seats,” Dad says. “It’s really filling up in there.”
“Good luck, sweetie,” Mom says.
I find myself enveloped in a warm bear hug, followed by a less dramatic but equally warm side hug from my dad.
“I’ll join you in a minute,” Hazel tells them. “I want to talk to Jake first.”
Once they’re gone, I raise a brow at my friend. “I can’t believe they came. Did you know about this?”
She nods. “Your mom called me to get them tickets. They wanted to surprise you.”
I slide my hands in my pockets and glance at the door behind me. The team will be arriving soon. “I should head back in and do my mental prep.”
“Cool.” Hazel seems to hesitate.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” But her face is a bit pale, and when she smiles it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Have a good game, Jake.”
40
Jake
Returning to the locker room, I immediately feel centered. Strong. Motivated. Now that I know my parents will be in the stands cheering me on, I’m even more determined to play well.
I’m going to beat Michigan today, and afterwards I’m going to win Brenna back. I don’t care if I have to throw myself at her feet and beg. I’m getting my woman back.
Although the team’s uniforms and gear were brought here ahead of time, I always have my own equipment bag with me. It’s where I keep my spare hockey tape and other random gear, and I usually toss my bracelet in there. I pull the zipper open and rummage around in search of the familiar beads. But my fingers aren’t connecting with anything.
When memory strikes, it takes a second for the horror to settle in.
I loaned the bracelet to Brenna.
And then I broke up with her without getting it back.
Fuck.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
In the back of my mind, an angry voice is demanding to know why she hadn’t contacted me in the three days since we saw each other to remind me she still has it. She knows how important it is to me and she couldn’t be bothered to make a phone call? It wouldn’t have even required seeing me. I could’ve sent Weston to pick it up.
But Mike Hollis said her heart was broken. And I’m the one who broke it. Of course she’s not going out of her way to do me a solid.
Panic swirls in my gut, and I take a series of deep breaths. Force myself calm down. It’s just a fucking bracelet. I don’t need a child’s bracelet to win this game. A bracelet didn’t get us to the regionals. A bracelet didn’t get me drafted by the Oilers. A bracelet didn’t—
“Jake.”
My head snaps toward the door. Hazel tentatively enters the room.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” I croak.
“I’ll be quick, I promise. I…” She keeps walking, stopping when we’re two feet apart. Her throat works as she gulps, several times from the look of it. Then she pulls something off her wrist and holds it up.
The wave of relief that crashes into me almost knocks me off my feet. I snatch the bracelet from her grasp. It takes all my willpower not to cradle it against me and start calling it my precious. But Jesus fucking Christ. That was a scare.
“I wasn’t going to give this to you,” Hazel tells me, and the shame in her tone makes me narrow my eyes at her.
“What the hell are you talking about? How did you even get this?”