Center Ice (Boston Rebels Book 1) by Julia Connors

Author:Julia Connors [Connors, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

DREW

Audrey tries to run past me and through the doorway, but when I reach out and grab her wrist, she spins back toward me. I can’t read the look on her face—she looks mad, but that doesn’t make sense. I just defended her to my sister, and finally admitted the depth of my feelings for her. What could she possibly be mad about?

“Not now, Drew,” she says, then pulls out of my grip and shuts the door behind her on her way out. I can barely hear her talking to my mom and Graham over the pounding sound of fury in my ears.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I say to Caitlyn. She deflates a bit at the deadly low, focused tone, “barging in here and insulting Audrey like that.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. “I was today years old when I learned that you’re: A, a dad, and B, in love. I didn’t even know Audrey existed.”

“And how dare you call her a puck bunny. You really think I’m going to bring some random girl to our childhood home? You think I’m introducing someone to Mom who I don’t actually care about? When have you ever known me to do something like that?”

Caitlyn looks at me like she doesn’t even know me. And it hits me then, like it should have so many times in the past… “Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you? Because you’ve never taken the time to get to know me. Instead, you resented that you had to take care of me so much when I was a little kid who’d just lost a parent⁠—”

“I’d just lost a parent, too, Drew. And I didn’t even get a chance to grieve because, suddenly, I had all these additional responsibilities, like taking care of you and Missy every time Mom picked up a shift at the diner down the street after teaching all day. I didn’t just lose my dad, I lost my childhood.”

Oh, so we’re finally talking about this, I guess.

“I get that now,” I tell her. I’d always thought she resented having to take care of me; I never really thought about what she lost in the process. “But I was a little kid. I didn’t have the emotional maturity to understand all of that. All I had was one less parent and a sister who suddenly hated me. And God forbid I actually be good at hockey—the thing I loved more than anything—and you did nothing but mock me for it and tell me it was a waste of time and money. It was like you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Her eyes are sad, her lips are turned down at the corners, and I’ve never felt our seven-year age difference more than I do right now. “I hated that Mom had to keep spending money she didn’t have so that you could play, while Missy and I had to go without things we wanted because you and hockey always took priority. I hated

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