Shameless King Page 2

  His furrowed brow dissolved, and his face brightened. “I know an overachiever when I see one. You’ve got the job.” He held out his hand.

  I slid my hand into his and pumped it up and down so hard he winced. Way to dislocate your new boss’s shoulder, Mak.

  “Plus, I need someone who won’t flake, can keep calm under pressure, and won’t mind taking the shifts no one else wants. You don’t happen to like hockey, do you?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  My hand froze mid-shake, and I whipped my head from side to side as the pit in my stomach grew. Hockey only brought back memories of high school. Of the prom and the only school dance I’d ever had. Of all the fanfare around the Kings and he who shall not be named.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Excellent. We need someone here to help with the rush after the hockey games. Everyone piles in here, and no one ever wants to work.” My stomach churned. Hockey players here? At least two of the Rittenhouse Prep School Kings went to this school. My smile faltered.

  “That’s not a problem, is it?” Larry’s eyebrows pinched together, and I slapped my smile back into place.

  “No problem at all. I can do it.”

  “Great, come into my office, and we can fill out the paperwork and get you your schedule.”

  “Perfect!” What were the odds that Declan would be there or that we’d even see each other? There had to be other bars on campus. If they needed more people, the place was most likely packed, so the odds of running into him here were slim. I took a deep breath, tried to push down the churning in my stomach and chalked it up to not eating anything all day.

  Me: I got the job!

  I texted Avery the second I got out to my car.

  Avery: Excellent! Should be fun. Free bar food, right?

  Me: Not exactly a selling point.

  Avery: Free is free…I’ll have to come visit you sometime when I can get some time off and Alyson has a sleepover.

  Avery was one of my friends from high school. She’d stayed behind in our Philly suburb when everyone else headed out to college. Being back in the area, I hoped we’d get to see more of each other.

  Me: Yes, you should. You could come to campus and we could have a fun weekend. Bring Alsyon!

  Avery: My shifts are insane for the next few months, but maybe I can swing a dinner or something.

  Me: Nice.

  An hour later, I drove through my childhood neighborhood. The sprawling front lawns framed the bright and pristine houses that were just different enough that no one felt like they were living in a cookie-cutter manicured existence.

  Nothing had changed much in the three years since I’d left, but so many things were different. Coming back for summers and breaks wasn’t the same. I was back for good now.

  Climbing the steps to the sprawling neoclassical house, complete with white columns, I put my key in the front door. The trumpets and old school synth music blared straight through the solid wood.

  Seventies music. I pushed the door open, and a mouthwatering aroma hit me, which was enough to put a smile on my face. Turning the corner into the living room, my smile faltered. My throat tightened as I watched them glide across the living room floor. Mom’s head pressed tight against Dad’s chest. Their hands clasped together as they hummed the tune. Tears welled in my eyes before I blinked them away.

  They were so different. Not like the broken shells I’d been so eager to leave behind when I left for college. The house was clean and organized, dinner cooking away in the kitchen. No pots left unattended on the stove, boiling over. No half-abandoned meals I had to finish. And they looked happy.

  As happy as I was for them, part of me crumpled inside, like a kid looking in through a window on a happy home they’d missed out on being a part of. The joy radiating off them and out of this house made it hard to breathe. I hadn’t known it was possible for them to act like this again. Why couldn’t I have had this for those last years I was home? Why did it take me leaving and my dad’s diagnosis for them to remember they were still alive? That I was still alive?

  Pictures that had been hidden away for years were all out on full display. Me and Daniel building sandcastles, sitting on Santa’s lap, running around in the backyard. Happy memories tinged with sadness that had threatened to swallow us all. The last bits of the setting sun streamed in through the wide-open front windows, casting a warm orange glow over them.

  “Mak’s home,” Dad said, twirling Mom away and dancing toward me. I couldn’t hold back my bark of laughter as he grabbed my hand and spun me. His strong arms steadied me as he twirled me around the room. Mom, not to be outdone, jumped up and started her own solo dance moves right beside us when a dance number came on.

  We finished out the song doubled over with laughter. I wiped away the tears streaming down my face, and Mom squeezed me tight. The music started up again, and Dad grabbed for my hand.

  “Oh no, I think Mom’s ready to take back over.” We all looked up as a ding sounded in the kitchen. “You two get back to funky town, and I’ll go check on the food.”

  “It’s okay. I can get it.” Mom tried to move past me, but I spun her around and right into Dad’s arms.

  “I’ve got it, Mom.” I bolted from the room before they decided to have another dance battle like they’d had last week. My muscles had taken a few days to recover. Grabbing the oven mitts, I savored the normalcy of it all. Was this what life could have been like back in high school? Then came the guilt. I had no room to feel sorry about any of it. At least I was here.

  I battled against the beat blast from the oven and a slippery roasting pan to wrangle the thing out of the oven without burning the crap out of my arms. Why was this pan so heavy? Mom had taken to making heartier meals lately. Rebalancing my grip, I slid the pan onto the counter.

  The smell brought me right back to being ten again. Mom always used to cook pot roast every Friday. Daniel and I would run in after school and help her peel potatoes, using the peelers like swords and fighting in the kitchen until Mom kicked us out again.

  We’d run back outside and play until she called us in. Having pot roast again every Friday this summer had brought those old memories slamming right back into me. I’d been running from them for three years. Trying to keep myself busy enough that the quiet moments were never long enough to think about everything I’d lost and would continue to lose. It was only a matter of time before they came back with a vengeance.

  I set the potatoes on the counter next to the roast and stared out the kitchen window into the backyard. Even that was tidy. The neat lines of the freshly mowed grass made it look like something out of a magazine. Our old swing set sat abandoned in the backyard, but it didn’t look like a relic of the past. The metal gleamed, and the wood had been restained.

  “How did the job interview go?”

  My heart jumped into my throat as Mom sneaked up behind me. She grabbed a cup and filled it with water and took a few ice cubes from the freezer.

  I turned from the sink and dropped the towel onto the counter.

  “It went great. I got the job. I’ll be working a few nights a week. Not too bad.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad you’re getting everything settled, but I still don’t know why you didn’t stay at Stanford, sweetheart. You only had a year to go.”

  “I know.” I stared down at my canvas high-tops, rubbing one sole over the toes of my other sneaker. But it would have been longer than that with the pre-med joint program. Two more years before finishing med school and we didn’t have that kind of time.

  “Not that we’re not happy to have you close by.” She came over and wrapped her arms around me. I squeezed her back and breathed her in. Her smell was like I remembered from middle school. A floral perfume mixed with Dad’s cologne. For so long she’d smelled like nothing. Like she’d ceased to exist.

  I hadn’t been back more than a month, and I’d be moving into my on-campus apartment after the weekend.

  “But I hope since you’r
e not halfway across the country, you’ll stop using the distance as an excuse not to have a little fun.”

  “I have fun.” I dropped my arms. Not this again.

  She eyed me suspiciously and gulped down some of her water. Dad would be back soon, ready to punch her dance card again.

  “What? I definitely have fun. And I’ll be working in a bar. I’m bound to have some crazy stuff happen working there.”

  “I’m talking about experiencing some life that doesn’t revolve around the library or watching other people have drunken make-out sessions in bar booths. Maybe someone getting felt up.” She gave me a look that told me she knew exactly what she was saying.

  “Not what I want to hear.” I cupped my hands over my ears, torn between laughing and barfing.

  “What? Making out? It’s something people do, Mak. Please tell me you’re not still a virgin.” She snapped my butt with a kitchen towel.

  “Mom!” I yelped with my eyes wide. Her grin made me want to grab the dish towel and hang myself right there in the kitchen.

  “What? I’m just asking. I know things were hard for you before.” The sadness was back in her eyes. The one I’d gotten used to for so long it was second nature not to look into her baby blues because of the pain she’d worn plain as day. It had been so heavy at times it threatened to suffocate you where you stood. She cleared her throat, and the sadness wasn’t as raw anymore.

  “We weren’t the best for a long time, and you held things together. I…I don’t want our mistakes to stop you from having the life you deserve.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I swear, and if it will make you feel better, I’ll have you know I lost my virginity at the end of sophomore year to a handsome and kind junior. We were both tested beforehand and used condoms the two times we did it.” I said it smugly, expecting it to be her turn to cover her ears and go running from the room; instead, she rolled her eyes.

  “Make me a promise.” She grabbed my hands. Her warm hands were softer than all those times she’d held my hand when a doctor came into the hospital room, bracing ourselves for the news to come. Her skin was thinner than it used to be. She was getting older and so was Dad. There was so little time left, and it stole my breath away.

  “Try not to play it so safe, okay? Not with the protection part.” She waved the thought away as a foregone conclusion.

  “And I hope whoever you’re with is kind to you, but please don’t stay in your safe little bubble for the rest of your life. You need to get out there and get messy and make some mistakes. No one can be perfect all the time.”

  She tucked a few strands of hair back behind my ear and left her hand on the side of my face. Her warmth soaked into my skin. I had my mom back.

  “No one.” She stared into my eyes with all the caring and love that had been missing for so long. When you could barely take care of yourself, it was hard to have anything left for anyone else.

  Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked them back. When you shouldered the weight of someone else’s life and dreams, it was hard to let go and not worry. I wasn’t just doing this for me. I was doing it for Daniel. He hadn’t had these chances. I wouldn’t throw away the opportunities he’d never get to have.

  “Where are my two best girls?” Dad’s voice boomed from the doorway to the kitchen as he smacked his hands together. “Smells good. Are we ready to eat?”

  Mom squeezed my hand one more time and let me go.

  “Ready!” Mom spun around and smiled at Dad with all the brightness back in her eyes. She was staying strong for him. It was better than the alternative.

  We put all the dishes out on the table. Passing the food around, the delicious smells made my stomach grumble. I added some extra green beans and roast to my plate. With college cafeteria food right around the corner, I needed to load up on the good stuff while I could.

  “Are you excited to start up the new semester?” Dad sliced into his beef and a slight tremor shook his hand.

  “I’m ready. I worked hard at Stanford; I can work hard here. It will all be fine. I’m glad I’m closer too. I can drive over most weekends as long as I don’t have an exam coming up.” I took a bite of my mashed potatoes and caught the two of them sharing a look. My stomach dropped.

  “What? What is it?” I dropped my fork as my heart leaped into my throat. Mom reached across the table and put her hand over mine, squeezing it. Everything I ate threatened to come right back up.

  “Nothing is wrong, sweetheart.”

  “I’m fine.” Dad crossed his heart with his finger. My shoulders relaxed an inch, and I glanced between the two of them.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Well, your father and I thought that since we don’t know how long we’ll have with him mobile, that maybe we should go out and have a little adventure. His doctors have given us the go-ahead and his medication is working. So, we’re going on a road trip.” She gave me a small smile.

  “Surprise,” Dad said gently, shaking his imaginary pom-poms.

  “You’re leaving? For how long?” My voice jumped an octave.

  “We’ll be back a week or so before Thanksgiving, if everything holds steady.” Her hand moved up to my shoulder.

  “Oh.” The tightness was back in my chest. I’d transferred schools, uprooted myself from one of the best colleges in the world to be closer to my parents, and they were leaving.

  “We can cancel the trip, honey. We didn’t know you were coming back when we made those plans,” Dad offered, taking my other hand.

  I stared down at my plate before taking a breath and slapping a smile on my face.

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. You guys should definitely go on this trip. Of course you should. I’ll be here when you get back, and driving back and forth to campus was a silly idea. It will be good for me to focus and stick to campus.”

  They exchanged looks. I slid my hands out from under theirs and took a hearty bite of my food although it tasted like dirt in my mouth. It figured that me moving back would be when they decided to leave for a trip for a few months. I guess that’s what I got for not clueing them in on my plans before I moved back.

  Staring up at my ceiling in my bedroom after Mom and Dad slow danced their way to bed, I glanced over at the frame on the nightstand beside the bed. For a long time, the picture in my room had been the only one in the whole house—well, the only one anyone could see.

  Daniel at nine before our lives were turned upside down. It was easy for Mom to say to live my life and go out and make mistakes, but how could I when he couldn’t? How could I when it was my fault he wasn’t here anymore? Going out and screwing up was a slap in the face to his memory.

  Being the best I could be was the only way I coped. The only way I hadn’t let myself fall apart like Mom and Dad. Even if I hadn’t been able to save him. If he couldn’t be here, I’d be the best I could so that no one ever thought the wrong Halstead had lived.

  3

  Declan

  With my helmet firmly strapped onto my head, I powered across the ice. Sweat poured from my body as I whipped around, changing direction, controlling the puck as I stopped at the mid-rink line. This was where everything made sense. My skates dug in as I flew around the ice, stick loose in my hand as we raced from one end of the rink to the other.

  The drills were meditation. Out here, under the pads and jersey, the world faded away and there was nothing but the brotherhood between me and my teammates. This was my home turf, and the guys had my back.

  I waved to some of the fans who came to watch us practice. Somehow they managed not to freeze their asses off in tops that low, not that I was going to complain. It certainly made practice a bit more interesting.

  I skated past the edge of the ice, staring up at the rows of blue chairs stretching to the roof of the stadium. One of the women came right up to glass, practically pressing her tits up against it, giving everyone a superb view. I shook my head, and the corners of my lips turned up. Fucking love enthusiastic sports fans! />
  Coach Mickelson blew the whistle, and we all crowded around him, grabbing our water bottles off the ledge. Heath smacked me in the back of the helmet, and I rammed my shoulder into him.

  “Focus is essential,” Coach said when we all made it to the bench. He and the team captain, Preston, shot us both a look. Heath became incredibly interested in the giant lights hanging over the ice, and I noticed the tape on the end of my stick needed to be redone.

  “Now is not the time to get cocky. It’s not the time to slack off. Being national champions for the past three years is enough to make anyone’s head bigger than it should be. But letting up and not being dedicated to every practice, every game, and every class is when slipups happen.” Preston’s head whipped around to mine, and I gritted my teeth.

  “Scrimmage. Usual teams.” He blew the whistle, and we took off into our positions.

  Pres skated in front of me. “You need to stop slacking, Declan. If you’re trying to actually graduate, you need to get your head in the game, and I don’t just mean the ice.”

  “I don’t think the Flyers give a flying fuck about my GPA.”

  “Maybe not, but you should.”

  The assistant coach dropped the puck on center ice, and I leaned into Preston, our sticks and gloves smacking into each other as we warred for control of the puck. I got possession and spun around him, the stick loose in my hand as I sped away from him. The comforting sound of skates scraping across the ice was drowned out by my sharp breaths. Preston raced into my peripheral vision. I passed the puck to Heath and went into defense mode to help clear his way to the net.

  As cocky as coach and Pres thought I was, being a team player was never an issue. If I had the shot, I was going for it, no holds barred. But if I didn’t, I wasn’t going to hog it and lose someone else the shot.

  This team was my life. My teammates, past and present, were the closest I had to brothers. Heath, doing what he did best, handled the shit out of the puck and slapped it into the back of the net, outskating everyone, me included.