Shea

"I didn't know you had the balls to tell her," KJ jokes.

We step into the foyer of the arena. We're sweaty and lugging our hockey bags and sticks around. Our game against Penticton went well. We won the game in overtime 2-1. Jayden scored the game-winning-goal, which was set up by a stellar pass from me.

In the foyer, we're welcomed by the smell of artificial butter drizzled over popcorn, hot dogs, and the lingering hint of sweaty hockey equipment. It's a stale smell that strikes nostalgia.

I glance at the concession stand, remembering all the times KJ, Brenna, and I used to buy the candy bags for two dollars. The sour keys were my favourite. Brenna hated them. She would trade them to me for the Maynards Swedish Berries. KJ thought we were both nuts—he hated any gummy candies. He would hoard chocolate. Still does. Put that shit near him, and he'll crumble to temptation.

I tear my gaze away from the concession stand. Now that Brenna and I are on the same page, memories have been flooding my mind. Being friends is way easier than being enemies.

"She wants to meet up with us," I say, keeping my voice low. If Connor finds out I've told Brenna, hell will be unleashed. He's still in the locker room, but you can never be too careful. "We were thinking we could meet at the gym. On the Westside. Connor would never dream of attending a gym on this side. He thinks West Kelowna is shit."

KJ snorts. "Kelowna is shit." He shoots me an apologetic glance. "No offense. But West Kelowna has the better beaches and wineries and hikes."

"Not gonna argue with you, man," Jayden laughs. "McDougall Rim and Carrot Mountain are my favourites."

I close my eyes, groaning. "You're fucking insane, Jay. Carrot Mountain is hell."

Last summer, the three of us hiked Carrot Mountain in thirty-five degree weather. We almost died of heat exhaustion. While the view was worth the sweat, blood, and tears, it doesn't subtract from the steep incline being hell.

He grins at me. "We're doing it again, Shea, and I know you won't decline the invitation."

The bastard is correct. I'll never pass up an opportunity to go hiking. One day, I will visit every provincial park in the Kootenays and hike to each summit.

"We're getting off-topic," I say, directing the conversation back to what matters. "Are you guys up for a meeting with Bren?"

Jayden stops and stares at me. So does KJ.

I freeze, glancing between them. "What?"

"You just called her 'Bren'," he grins.

My cheeks flush pink. "N-No I didn't," I stutter. I'm aware I did, in fact, call her "Bren." Am I willing to admit it? Fuck no.

KJ jabs me in the ribs with his hockey stick. "But you did."

"Shut up, Jones. Miller," I mumble, adjusting my hockey bag. It's weighing on my shoulder and causing my tired muscles to burn. Before he can say another word, I beeline for the concession stand. Suddenly, I'm craving some sour keys.

In the seating area of the concession stand, four of the five metal tables are full. Little kids are drinking hot chocolate and enjoying poutine. A disgusting combination. Two dads are discussing last night's Toronto Maple Leafs game. At the far table, by the window, a group of middle school girls are scrolling through their Instagram feeds.

I toss my bag and stick onto the empty table, removing my wallet from the side pocket. From it, I remove a five-dollar bill and walk up to the cashier.

"Two bags of sour keys, please," I say, jerking my chin at the display.

The cashier smiles at me and exchanges the bag of candy for my five dollars. I tell her to keep the change. When I turn around, Jayden and KJ have gathered near the table I claimed.

They're staring at me.

"What?" I ask as I saunter over, untying one bag. The other I slip into my pocket. I toss a sour key into my mouth, chewing slower than a turtle. My lips pucker as the sour flavour spreads across my tastebuds.

KJ cocks an eyebrow at the bag in my hand. "Sour keys," he notes. His gaze flicks back to mine. "Chocolate is better. But if Bren were here, she'd tell you Swedish Berries win."

My grip tightens on the candy bags.

Jayden nudges KJ in the ribs. "Come on, bro. We've done enough damage today. Leave the kid alone."

"Ironic," I drawl, grabbing another sour key. "You started the teasing."

His grin returns. "I may have started the teasing, but I also know when to end it."

I'm unable to come up with a retort. Jayden's too smart for me.

KJ smirks, but doesn't say another word. I toss another sour key in my mouth, knowing his teasing is far from over. When Jayden isn't around, KJ will press for information. He wants to know why I called Brenna "Bren."

Truthfully, I don't know. It was a slip of the tongue. That being said, using Harrison's nickname doesn't feel strange on my tongue. I quite enjoy bouncing between Brenna, Harrison, and Bren.

The slip also has a lot to do with the conversation we had. After I confessed my stupidity to Brenna, she stuck around for a few more hours. We ate the rest of the pizza and discussed our approach to this Connor problem I created. We're taking it one day at a time. Connor is unpredictable. As long as we're alert, we should be able to handle whatever move he makes. We'll know more after we meet up with KJ and Jayden. Brenna contemplated involving Tucker in this meeting, but decided against it. As far as Connor's intentions go, Tucker isn't being threatened. KJ and Jayden are.

Besides, we have the upper hand. Connor doesn't know Brenna knows what's going on behind the scenes. We're able to plan ahead. Brenna's already given me permission to leak information about our unplanned kiss to Connor. She thinks it'll satisfy him for a week.

"Whatever," I say, rolling my eyes. "Are you two in or what? Brenna wants to know."

"I'm in," Jayden nods.

KJ stares at the candy bag in my hand. "Only if I get a sour key."

"You hate gummies," I frown.

Regardless of my point, KJ reaches into the bag and removes a sour key. He inspects the thing before popping it in his mouth. Jayden and I watch as KJ's face contorts. "Fuck," he says. "They're even worse than before."

I roll my eyes. He's such an idiot sometimes.

Jayden laughs. "Might want to buy some chocolate to get the taste out of your mouth."

Looking ill, KJ nods. He gathers his wallet and heads to the concession stand, leaving Jayden and me alone.

I hold out the bag. "Want one?"

"Thanks, but no," he replies, shaking his head. "The only gummies I eat are Smart Sweets. Less sugar, female-owned, and plant-based? You can't go wrong."

"That's—"

"Candy after a game? Didn't your parents teach you hockey etiquette?"

Jayden's posture stiffens. His grin fades. My gaze focuses over his shoulder, directly on Connor. He's dressed in his baseline gear, and his hair is wilder than usual.

"For your information, Connor," KJ says, returning just in time. If anyone can deal with Connor, it's KJ. He stays neutral, unlike Jayden and I. KJ pulls his shirt up and pats his toned stomach. "We worked our asses off for these treats. Maybe you should stop being jealous and join the party." KJ holds out his chocolates.

Connor sneers, shoving KJ's hand away. He turns to me. "We're waiting on an update, Smith."

My anxiety peaks, as does my temper. This bastard intimidates me, and I hate him. I take a deep breath, centring myself. Brenna and I discussed this. I know what to do.

Appear indifferent, Brenna said. It'll piss him off. The more volatile Connor is, the better chance we have at taking him down. He won't be able to think clearly. That way, he's destined for a screw-up.

Hopefully, my acting skills will be enough.

"We kissed," I say, keeping a bored look on my face. My tone is indifferent. "On the floor of her kitchen. Slipped her the tongue and everything."

Just to piss him off, I end my sentence with a shrug.

Connor's grip tightens on his hockey stick.

The boys behind Connor are shocked.

Jayden's horrified by the details. KJ appears bored.

Connor runs a hand through his hair. It's an aggressive motion, which tells me he's flustered. He wasn't expecting me to kiss her.

Connor keeps his gaze level with mine. I tilt my chin up, refusing to back down. Brenna told me we need to be consistent. Letting down my guard will only empower him.

I cock an eyebrow. "Anything else you want to know?" I gaze off into the distance, making it look like I'm combing through detailed memories. "Her lip balm tasted good."

For good measure, I eat another sour key.

"Fine," Connor replies coolly. "You're off the hook for now. I'm expecting more, though, Smith. Don't forget that."

Brenna was right. Fucking him over will be fun.

When Connor and his posse exit the arena, I stick both middle fingers up at the closed doors.

KJ claps me on the shoulder. "The motion doesn't hold much meaning unless the receiver sees it."

I straighten my posture. "It makes me feel good. My temper eats this shit up."

KJ snorts, leaning down to gather his bag. "Let's get the hell out of here. You boys want to grab some sushi from Kojo?"

Fuck, a spicy vegan ramen bowl would be good right now. I can pick Chelsea up some cucumber rolls, too. She loves those things. Although my bank account could beg to differ—it's in a delicate situation regarding post-secondary schooling—I nod.

So does Jayden.

KJ is the first one to gather his belongings. He tells Jayden and I he'll pick us up out front. We carpooled today, so no one argues.

While Jayden is gathering his hockey bag, I slide my wallet back into the side pocket of mine. I also down the last of my gummies; tilting my head back, I tip the bag and fill my mouth with what remains, including the sour sugar. I cough a little, the sourness reminding me of sucking on a lemon.

"Shit," I cough, chewing fast.

"Sour?" Jayden laughs.

"Extremely," I reply, removing the other bag. I untie it and pop another sour key into my mouth. These fuckers are addictive. "Ready?"

He nods. However, before I can turn around and head to the doors, Jayden grabs my bicep. He's preventing me from exiting the arena to the parking lot. "What?" I ask.

He keeps his gaze level with mine. "I'm proud of you, Shea. You could've been an ass and kept the truth from Brenna. You didn't. You're trying to resolve the problem." He pauses and takes a sour key. He frowns at the candy, but eats it without flinching. "I hope you realize effort counts."

Jayden claps me on the shoulder and leaves before I can say anything.

I stare at the photos of previous hockey teams lining the wall. Fucking Jayden. That kid is too good for this world. I don't confide in him as much as I do KJ, but he's aware of the situation at my house. He knows how badly I strive for my father's appreciation, despite the terrible circumstances and high levels of toxicity. Hearing Jayden compliment my efforts and care... it's humbling.

Casting my gaze down to the floor, I sigh.

"I'm realizing that," I whisper to no one.

*  *  *

Balancing a box of cucumber rolls on my forearm, I push through the entryway to the garage and into the mudroom. I fumble for the light, aware my parents are in the kitchen, fighting.

I expel a frustrated sigh as I kick off my shoes.

After the shit Connor pulled today, I'm agitated. Hearing my parents fight isn't helping.

"It's because you're never home, Evan!" Mom yells. "You are constantly on the road. What am I supposed to assume?"

"That I am working to provide for this family!" Dad booms. "For fuck's sake, Lyla!"

Mom sniffles. "You're never home. It's as if work matters more than our marriage. Than our kids."

Dad is silent for several seconds. "Without my job, we wouldn't be able to afford this house. Or Shea's hockey fees. Or Chelsea's swimming lessons.

"That is bullshit. We pay for this house together. We pay all expenses together."

I scoff to myself. The only thing they do together is leave Chelsea and me to fend for ourselves. Dad is always off on business trips (or so he calls them). Mom is managing the café or leaving the responsibility to Noah's mom while she goes on trips with her college friends. Although they're providing Chelsea and me with a place to live, they've been nonexistent. Work and recreation are more important.

Dad snorts. "You think running a café helps pay for this house? It doesn't leave a dent, Lyla."

Mom's tone is cold and harsh when she speaks again. "Just like you fucking that woman at the hotel doesn't leave a dent in our relationship? That's right—Ryan told me what happened in Toronto. How long have you been seeing her? I was mortified when your co-worker told me my husband has been cheating on me. How long, Evan?"

"That's a lie," Dad says, his voice wavering.

Although I'd been expecting something like this, a sharp pain jabs my heart. Goddamn it. For Chelsea's sake, I'd been hoping this drama would blow over. Speaking of Chelsea... she can probably hear everything that's going on.

I expel a soft curse as I shrug my jacket off and storm into the kitchen.

When I enter, Mom and Dad are locked in an argument. Whatever they're saying goes in one ear and out the other. They have no respect for their daughter. Do they not realize how badly this will hurt her?

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" I hiss. "Chelsea is upstairs listening to every single fucking word that leaves your mouths."

Both parents jump. Dad even knocks over a glass of water. It spills across the countertop, soaking whatever papers were laid across the marble.

"Evan!" Mom exclaims, rushing for the papers. The ones she picks up are sopping wet mess. She shakes the water away, only to realize they're a lost cause. She sighs and throws them back on the counter.

"You are not part of this, Shea," Dad snaps, ignoring Mom. "Go to bed."

Fire burns in my veins. Does he really think he can treat me like a kid? I mean, yes, technically I still am a kid. But they have no right to label me as one after everything I've done for Chels. Ever since I got my N, I've been driving Chelsea around, making dinner for her, and spending time with her. Aside from Noah, I've been her only caring family member.

Seeing red, I storm over to Dad and poke him in the chest. "I am part of this!" After years of being shorter than Dad, I have two inches on him. Never has height felt so good. "I became part of this the moment you and Mom stopped being parents."

I toss the cucumber rolls onto the counter.

"Look! Once again, I'm using my money to feed Chelsea. The money I'm supposed to be saving for Boston."

Dad snorts. "Boston? You're never going to Boston."

"Evan!" Mom snaps.

"No," I reply, ignoring Mom. "I won't be able to go. Unless you act like fucking parents again. Do you know how many times Chels has gone to bed crying? She thinks you're fighting because of her."

Dad shoves me away, putting space between us. "Our relationship doesn't concern either of you."

"Fine. Maybe you have a point," I snap. "We're not part of your relationship." I make a wild gesture between Mom and Dad. "The fighting affects us, though. Especially Chelsea. You're hurting her. Fight all you want, but for the love of fucking god, do it somewhere private. Stop hurting my sister!"

Before either of them can say another word, I leave. I'm not in the mood for arguing. Dad will try to worm his slimy ass out of the blame. Mom will baby me.

I'm not in the fucking mood.

Upstairs, I make a beeline for my bedroom. I don't stop to see if Chelsea is sleeping.

Shoving my bedroom door open, I throw my backpack across the room, anger reverberating through my bones. The door slams behind me. My temper is rising. I feel volatile. Just when things were looking a little better, they turn to shit again. Telling Brenna and seeing her reaction was a relief. But a kiss isn't enough for Connor. Jayden's proud of me for trying, but Mom and Dad don't give a fuck. Will the good ever outweigh the bad?

Dropping my face into my hands, I sit down on the foot of my bed. Tears of frustration burn behind my eyes. My nose runs. I wipe it with the sleeve of my sweater. A few good tears are nothing to be ashamed of. What I'm ashamed of is how much snot I produce.

I'm sick of this shit.

I want out.

As much as I love Chelsea, it isn't my job to take care of her. Mom and Dad should do that. Connor doesn't have the right to push me around. To threaten my friends.

Just then, I hear a creaking noise.

When I glance over my shoulder, in the source's direction, I see Chelsea peeking through the door.

"Shea?" Chelsea asks, pushing my door open. Her voice is timid. "Are you okay?"

I wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I'm fine, Chels. Go back to bed."

My sister doesn't listen.

Instead, she steps into my bedroom and closes the door behind her. She saunters over to my bed, climbing atop it. Before I can tell the kid to leave, she's sitting beside me. I have no choice but to wrap an arm around her. Even if I want to push people away and be alone, Chelsea will always be the exception.

"I wish they could be happy again," she whispers.

Silence is my only response. What am I supposed to say? I can't lie to her. It's obvious Mom and Dad won't be remedying their problems. False hope is toxic, too.

She rests her head against my shoulder. "Will they ever stop fighting?"

"I don't know, kid," I sniffle. "I don't know."