I’m about to dump two packages of penne in the boiling water when Garrett’s phone rings.
“It’s Coach,” he says, sounding slightly confused.
I set the pasta on the counter instead of in the pot and watch as Garrett takes the call. I don’t know why, but there’s a nervous feeling crawling up my spine. Coach Jensen doesn’t usually phone us off-hours for no reason. Garrett’s team captain, but it’s not like he’s getting nightly calls from the man.
“Hey, Coach. What’s up?” Garrett listens for a moment. His dark eyebrows knit, and then he speaks again. Warily. “I don’t understand. Why did Pat ask you to call me?”
He listens again. For much longer, this time.
Whatever Coach Jensen is telling him, it’s turning Garrett’s complexion to paste. By the time he hangs up, he’s as white as the walls.
“What’s wrong?” Logan demands. He doesn’t miss Garrett’s change in demeanor either.
Garrett shakes his head, looking stunned. “Beau Maxwell died.”
What?
Logan freezes.
I drop the spatula I’m holding. It clatters to the floor, and in the silence of the kitchen, it sounds like an explosion from a war film. We all flinch at the noise.
I don’t pick up the spatula. I just stare at Garrett, stupidly asking, “What?”
“Beau Maxwell died.” He continues to shake his head, over and over again, as if he can’t make sense of the words coming out of his own mouth.
“What do you mean, he died?” Logan growls in outrage. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
Our team captain braces both hands on the counter. He’s actually shaking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrett lose his cool like this.
“Coach just got off the phone with Pat Deluca. Beau’s coach. Pat said Beau died.”
Without a word, I turn off the stove and stumble over to the kitchen table. I sink into the first chair I collide into and rub my fists over my forehead. This isn’t happening.
“How?” Logan snaps. “When?”
He sounds angry, but I can tell it’s all shock. Logan and Beau are close. Not as close as Dean and Beau, but—oh Jesus. Dean. Someone needs to tell Dean.
“Last night.” Garrett’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Car accident. He was in Wisconsin for his grandmother’s birthday. Coach said the roads were icy. Beau’s dad was driving the car and he swerved to avoid hitting a deer. The car flipped over and flew off the road and…” His words are choked now. “Beau broke his neck and died.”
Oh sweet Jesus.
Horror swirls in my gut like poison. Across from me, Logan is blinking back tears. We’re all just sitting there. Silent. Shocked. I’ve never…had a friend who died before. No relatives, either. My dad passed away when I was too young to really grieve for him. That was a car accident too. God. Why the fuck do we drive cars?
In the back of my mind, there’s a nagging thought that I should be doing something. I swipe a hand over my stinging eyes and force myself to focus.
Sabrina.
Fuck, that’s what I need to do. I need to call Sabrina and tell her the news. She used to date Beau. She cares about him.
Before I can move from my chair, the front door creaks open. The three of us tense up.
Dean’s home.
“Fuck,” Logan whispers.
“I’ll tell him,” Garrett says hoarsely.
Dean’s blond head is lowered as he wanders into the kitchen. He’s engrossed with his phone, his fingers tapping out a text message, probably to Allie. He doesn’t notice us at first, but even when he does, I don’t think he’s registering our expressions.
“What’s up?” he asks in an absentminded tone.
When none of us say a word, Dean frowns and puts the phone away. His gaze lands on Logan, and he stiffens when he sees our friend’s tears.
“What’s going on?” he demands.
Logan wipes his eyes.
I press my lips together.
“Seriously, if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on right this fucking second—”
“Coach called,” Garrett interrupts in a low voice. “He just got off the phone with Patrick Deluca, and, uh…”
Dean looks confused.
Garrett keeps talking, though I wish he wouldn’t. I wish we didn’t have to tell Dean about Beau. I wish we didn’t even know about Beau.
I wish…lots of things. But right now, wishes mean shit.
“I guess Deluca called him because he knows we’re friends with Beau—”
“This is about Maxwell? What about him?”
Logan and I both stare at our hands.
Garrett has more courage than us, because he doesn’t shy away from Dean’s anxious gaze. “He…ah…died.”
Just like that, Dean falls into a trance. It’s painful to watch, and I have no idea how to draw him out of it. Garrett repeats what he told Logan and me, but it’s obvious our teammate isn’t listening. Dean’s green eyes are glazed, his mouth parted slightly as he sucks in uneven breaths.
It’s only when Garrett says that Beau died on impact that Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Can you tell it to me again?” he croaks. “What happened, I mean.”
“Goddamn it, why?”
“Because I need to hear it again.” Dean is adamant.
We watch as he marches to the cupboards and grabs a bottle of whiskey from the top one. He takes a deep swig right out of the bottle before staggering over to sit beside me.
Garrett starts talking again. Christ. I don’t know if I can hear this awful story again. Dean passes me the whiskey and I take a small sip before passing it to Logan. I can’t get wasted right now. I plan on driving tonight.
Once Garrett is finished, Dean pushes his chair back and stands up. He clutches the Jack Daniel’s bottle in both hands like it’s a security blanket. “Going upstairs,” he mumbles.
“Dean—” I start, but our teammate is already gone.
We hear footsteps climbing the stairs. A thump. A door clicking shut.
Silence falls over the kitchen.
“I have to leave,” I mutter to Garrett and Logan, unsteadily rising to my feet.
Neither of them ask me where I’m going.
*
Sabrina
I stare at Tucker, unable to comprehend what he’s saying. When he texted to say he was coming to Boston to see me tonight, I expected a serious discussion about our unplanned pregnancy. I panicked, told him I was studying, and he all but said tough shit. I think his exact message was: I’m coming. We’re talking.
“It’s Coach,” he says, sounding slightly confused.
I set the pasta on the counter instead of in the pot and watch as Garrett takes the call. I don’t know why, but there’s a nervous feeling crawling up my spine. Coach Jensen doesn’t usually phone us off-hours for no reason. Garrett’s team captain, but it’s not like he’s getting nightly calls from the man.
“Hey, Coach. What’s up?” Garrett listens for a moment. His dark eyebrows knit, and then he speaks again. Warily. “I don’t understand. Why did Pat ask you to call me?”
He listens again. For much longer, this time.
Whatever Coach Jensen is telling him, it’s turning Garrett’s complexion to paste. By the time he hangs up, he’s as white as the walls.
“What’s wrong?” Logan demands. He doesn’t miss Garrett’s change in demeanor either.
Garrett shakes his head, looking stunned. “Beau Maxwell died.”
What?
Logan freezes.
I drop the spatula I’m holding. It clatters to the floor, and in the silence of the kitchen, it sounds like an explosion from a war film. We all flinch at the noise.
I don’t pick up the spatula. I just stare at Garrett, stupidly asking, “What?”
“Beau Maxwell died.” He continues to shake his head, over and over again, as if he can’t make sense of the words coming out of his own mouth.
“What do you mean, he died?” Logan growls in outrage. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
Our team captain braces both hands on the counter. He’s actually shaking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrett lose his cool like this.
“Coach just got off the phone with Pat Deluca. Beau’s coach. Pat said Beau died.”
Without a word, I turn off the stove and stumble over to the kitchen table. I sink into the first chair I collide into and rub my fists over my forehead. This isn’t happening.
“How?” Logan snaps. “When?”
He sounds angry, but I can tell it’s all shock. Logan and Beau are close. Not as close as Dean and Beau, but—oh Jesus. Dean. Someone needs to tell Dean.
“Last night.” Garrett’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Car accident. He was in Wisconsin for his grandmother’s birthday. Coach said the roads were icy. Beau’s dad was driving the car and he swerved to avoid hitting a deer. The car flipped over and flew off the road and…” His words are choked now. “Beau broke his neck and died.”
Oh sweet Jesus.
Horror swirls in my gut like poison. Across from me, Logan is blinking back tears. We’re all just sitting there. Silent. Shocked. I’ve never…had a friend who died before. No relatives, either. My dad passed away when I was too young to really grieve for him. That was a car accident too. God. Why the fuck do we drive cars?
In the back of my mind, there’s a nagging thought that I should be doing something. I swipe a hand over my stinging eyes and force myself to focus.
Sabrina.
Fuck, that’s what I need to do. I need to call Sabrina and tell her the news. She used to date Beau. She cares about him.
Before I can move from my chair, the front door creaks open. The three of us tense up.
Dean’s home.
“Fuck,” Logan whispers.
“I’ll tell him,” Garrett says hoarsely.
Dean’s blond head is lowered as he wanders into the kitchen. He’s engrossed with his phone, his fingers tapping out a text message, probably to Allie. He doesn’t notice us at first, but even when he does, I don’t think he’s registering our expressions.
“What’s up?” he asks in an absentminded tone.
When none of us say a word, Dean frowns and puts the phone away. His gaze lands on Logan, and he stiffens when he sees our friend’s tears.
“What’s going on?” he demands.
Logan wipes his eyes.
I press my lips together.
“Seriously, if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on right this fucking second—”
“Coach called,” Garrett interrupts in a low voice. “He just got off the phone with Patrick Deluca, and, uh…”
Dean looks confused.
Garrett keeps talking, though I wish he wouldn’t. I wish we didn’t have to tell Dean about Beau. I wish we didn’t even know about Beau.
I wish…lots of things. But right now, wishes mean shit.
“I guess Deluca called him because he knows we’re friends with Beau—”
“This is about Maxwell? What about him?”
Logan and I both stare at our hands.
Garrett has more courage than us, because he doesn’t shy away from Dean’s anxious gaze. “He…ah…died.”
Just like that, Dean falls into a trance. It’s painful to watch, and I have no idea how to draw him out of it. Garrett repeats what he told Logan and me, but it’s obvious our teammate isn’t listening. Dean’s green eyes are glazed, his mouth parted slightly as he sucks in uneven breaths.
It’s only when Garrett says that Beau died on impact that Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Can you tell it to me again?” he croaks. “What happened, I mean.”
“Goddamn it, why?”
“Because I need to hear it again.” Dean is adamant.
We watch as he marches to the cupboards and grabs a bottle of whiskey from the top one. He takes a deep swig right out of the bottle before staggering over to sit beside me.
Garrett starts talking again. Christ. I don’t know if I can hear this awful story again. Dean passes me the whiskey and I take a small sip before passing it to Logan. I can’t get wasted right now. I plan on driving tonight.
Once Garrett is finished, Dean pushes his chair back and stands up. He clutches the Jack Daniel’s bottle in both hands like it’s a security blanket. “Going upstairs,” he mumbles.
“Dean—” I start, but our teammate is already gone.
We hear footsteps climbing the stairs. A thump. A door clicking shut.
Silence falls over the kitchen.
“I have to leave,” I mutter to Garrett and Logan, unsteadily rising to my feet.
Neither of them ask me where I’m going.
*
Sabrina
I stare at Tucker, unable to comprehend what he’s saying. When he texted to say he was coming to Boston to see me tonight, I expected a serious discussion about our unplanned pregnancy. I panicked, told him I was studying, and he all but said tough shit. I think his exact message was: I’m coming. We’re talking.
