She still loves me. I hold that comforting certainty close to my heart over the next few days. I need the reminder that someone still loves me as I go on an apology spree that leaves me drained. I’m armed with a Kill Bill list of people—well, people to apologize to, not murder with samurai swords. I wrote the names down on an actual piece of paper, because I couldn’t keep track of all of them in my head.
The first few names are easy to check off the list.
Hannah is still pissed at me for hurting her best friend, but I win her forgiveness by spending an entire hour reciting everything I love about Allie and everything I’m going to do if—no, when, damn it—when she’s ready to see me again. Hannah is mollified.
WELLSY
Next, I apologize to my teammates for letting them down. Technically, I didn’t get kicked off the team—I’m suspended until next season. But I’m graduating in the spring, so there is no next season.
The guys are surprisingly cool with the screw-up that took me out of hockey commission. Honestly, I think they’ve given up on the season. Garrett assures me the guys are still bringing it hard on the ice, but I think everyone is ready to wash their hands of this disastrous year and start fresh in the fall. Hunter, especially. He’s the one I apologize to the most, promising I’ll make it up to him for bailing on our private sessions.
THE TEAM
But that’s not my only team, and my heart is heavy as I drive to the arena in Hastings. Again, I’m taken by surprise, because it takes very little effort to make amends with Coach Ellis. Before I can deliver the long speech I prepared, he claps me on the shoulder and says, “Save it for the boys. Good to have you back.”
COACH ELLIS
The boys? Also easy to win over. This time I manage to get halfway through my prepared speech, which includes a promise to take them all out for pizza. When I try to keep going after that, Robbie interrupts me by shouting, “Dude, you had us at pizza!”
THE HURRICANES
I stay to help out with practice. My heart is no longer heavy. It’s soaring, because Allie was right—I love this. Skating with the kids, giving them tips about how to position their bodies, when to take their shot. After the final whistle blows, I help Ellis put away the equipment and we spend ten minutes discussing options I never even realized were available to me.
My anxiety resurfaces when I climb the bleachers.
Dakota has her pink notebook in her lap, pencil poised on a blank page. She tenses when I sit beside her. She doesn’t say hello, and I clearly see the hurt flickering in her huge blue eyes.
“So what did the evil Mrs. Klein assign for us today?” I ask gruffly.
She ignores me.
“If you’re supposed to write a paragraph about your hero, I’m sure I don’t qualify. But if it’s a description of the person you hate the most? I bet you can write ten pages on me, easy.”
She giggles, then covers her mouth in horror, as if she’s trying to shove the high-pitched sound back inside.
“Dakota,” I sigh.
She finally looks at me. Fiercely. “I’m mad at you.”
“I know you are, kid.” I swallow a lump of shame. I’m such an asshole. I bailed on our skating lessons, didn’t come by to explain. I just disappeared from her life.
Dakota and Robbie are being raised by a single mother. Dakota talks about her often, and she admitted that her dad walked out the door one day and never came back. It makes me sick to my stomach that I might have brought back those painful memories for her.
“My friend died—” I stop abruptly, because I can’t think about Beau without feeling a shooting pain in my heart. Fuck, I miss that big oaf. I miss talking to him, just shooting the shit with him. Who else can I discuss Twilight with and not feel judged?
“I didn’t handle it very well,” I tell Dakota. “I’ve never lost anyone before. Well, Gramps Kendrick, but he died when I was five. Maybe I was more resilient as a kid?”
She’s watching me warily.
“I’m sorry, Koty. I’m really fu—fudging sorry for disappearing without a word. I give you permission to punch me in the face as hard as you can. But quick, do it now, when Coach Ellis isn’t looking.”
She giggles again. Then, proving that kids really are more resilient, she reaches over and pats my arm. “Stop being such a girl, Dean. I like you again.”
I choke down a laugh. “You do?”
“Uh-huh.” She blows a bubble with her gum, then points to her notebook. “I have to write one page about my favorite movie and why I like it.”
“Gotcha. What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Princess Diaries.”
Of course it is.
“Okay then.” I crack my knuckles as if I’m preparing to throw down. “Let’s do this thing.”
DAKOTA
I call Joanna Maxwell when I get home, luckily catching her on her dinner break at the theater. I apologize for not coming to the memorial. She forgives me. We talk about Beau for almost an hour before she reluctantly says she has to rehearse. We promise to keep in touch, and there’s a dull ache in my heart as I hang up. I’m not breaking that promise, though. Beau was important to me. Joanna is his big sister. I’m keeping in fucking touch.
JOANNA
I have one more phone call to make, and I’m not looking forward to it. A few days ago, I asked Fitzy to track down Miranda O’Shea for me. Fitz illegally gets his hands on video games all the time without buying them, so I figured he might have the skills to track down a phone number. Turns out I was right. I have no idea how he did it, and I don’t plan on asking because I’d rather not go to jail.
I dial the number, then wait. I haven’t seen or spoken to Miranda in years. I don’t have feelings for her anymore, but hoo boy, there’s definitely unresolved shit between us. And there was one thing I never got to say to her. I hope to change that today.
If she picks up the damn phone. It rings and rings, and I’m about to disconnect when a harried voice comes over the line.
“Hello?”
I take a breath. “Miranda?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s…ah, Dean.” I pause. “Dean Di Laurentis.”
Shocked silence fills the line.
“I know I’m calling you out-of-the-blue—”
The first few names are easy to check off the list.
Hannah is still pissed at me for hurting her best friend, but I win her forgiveness by spending an entire hour reciting everything I love about Allie and everything I’m going to do if—no, when, damn it—when she’s ready to see me again. Hannah is mollified.
WELLSY
Next, I apologize to my teammates for letting them down. Technically, I didn’t get kicked off the team—I’m suspended until next season. But I’m graduating in the spring, so there is no next season.
The guys are surprisingly cool with the screw-up that took me out of hockey commission. Honestly, I think they’ve given up on the season. Garrett assures me the guys are still bringing it hard on the ice, but I think everyone is ready to wash their hands of this disastrous year and start fresh in the fall. Hunter, especially. He’s the one I apologize to the most, promising I’ll make it up to him for bailing on our private sessions.
THE TEAM
But that’s not my only team, and my heart is heavy as I drive to the arena in Hastings. Again, I’m taken by surprise, because it takes very little effort to make amends with Coach Ellis. Before I can deliver the long speech I prepared, he claps me on the shoulder and says, “Save it for the boys. Good to have you back.”
COACH ELLIS
The boys? Also easy to win over. This time I manage to get halfway through my prepared speech, which includes a promise to take them all out for pizza. When I try to keep going after that, Robbie interrupts me by shouting, “Dude, you had us at pizza!”
THE HURRICANES
I stay to help out with practice. My heart is no longer heavy. It’s soaring, because Allie was right—I love this. Skating with the kids, giving them tips about how to position their bodies, when to take their shot. After the final whistle blows, I help Ellis put away the equipment and we spend ten minutes discussing options I never even realized were available to me.
My anxiety resurfaces when I climb the bleachers.
Dakota has her pink notebook in her lap, pencil poised on a blank page. She tenses when I sit beside her. She doesn’t say hello, and I clearly see the hurt flickering in her huge blue eyes.
“So what did the evil Mrs. Klein assign for us today?” I ask gruffly.
She ignores me.
“If you’re supposed to write a paragraph about your hero, I’m sure I don’t qualify. But if it’s a description of the person you hate the most? I bet you can write ten pages on me, easy.”
She giggles, then covers her mouth in horror, as if she’s trying to shove the high-pitched sound back inside.
“Dakota,” I sigh.
She finally looks at me. Fiercely. “I’m mad at you.”
“I know you are, kid.” I swallow a lump of shame. I’m such an asshole. I bailed on our skating lessons, didn’t come by to explain. I just disappeared from her life.
Dakota and Robbie are being raised by a single mother. Dakota talks about her often, and she admitted that her dad walked out the door one day and never came back. It makes me sick to my stomach that I might have brought back those painful memories for her.
“My friend died—” I stop abruptly, because I can’t think about Beau without feeling a shooting pain in my heart. Fuck, I miss that big oaf. I miss talking to him, just shooting the shit with him. Who else can I discuss Twilight with and not feel judged?
“I didn’t handle it very well,” I tell Dakota. “I’ve never lost anyone before. Well, Gramps Kendrick, but he died when I was five. Maybe I was more resilient as a kid?”
She’s watching me warily.
“I’m sorry, Koty. I’m really fu—fudging sorry for disappearing without a word. I give you permission to punch me in the face as hard as you can. But quick, do it now, when Coach Ellis isn’t looking.”
She giggles again. Then, proving that kids really are more resilient, she reaches over and pats my arm. “Stop being such a girl, Dean. I like you again.”
I choke down a laugh. “You do?”
“Uh-huh.” She blows a bubble with her gum, then points to her notebook. “I have to write one page about my favorite movie and why I like it.”
“Gotcha. What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Princess Diaries.”
Of course it is.
“Okay then.” I crack my knuckles as if I’m preparing to throw down. “Let’s do this thing.”
DAKOTA
I call Joanna Maxwell when I get home, luckily catching her on her dinner break at the theater. I apologize for not coming to the memorial. She forgives me. We talk about Beau for almost an hour before she reluctantly says she has to rehearse. We promise to keep in touch, and there’s a dull ache in my heart as I hang up. I’m not breaking that promise, though. Beau was important to me. Joanna is his big sister. I’m keeping in fucking touch.
JOANNA
I have one more phone call to make, and I’m not looking forward to it. A few days ago, I asked Fitzy to track down Miranda O’Shea for me. Fitz illegally gets his hands on video games all the time without buying them, so I figured he might have the skills to track down a phone number. Turns out I was right. I have no idea how he did it, and I don’t plan on asking because I’d rather not go to jail.
I dial the number, then wait. I haven’t seen or spoken to Miranda in years. I don’t have feelings for her anymore, but hoo boy, there’s definitely unresolved shit between us. And there was one thing I never got to say to her. I hope to change that today.
If she picks up the damn phone. It rings and rings, and I’m about to disconnect when a harried voice comes over the line.
“Hello?”
I take a breath. “Miranda?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s…ah, Dean.” I pause. “Dean Di Laurentis.”
Shocked silence fills the line.
“I know I’m calling you out-of-the-blue—”
