I’m hoping he doesn’t want it to be the end of our night, because I definitely wish it wasn’t. I stand and get out before the pull to him makes me do something else really stupid. Like kiss him. Or give myself another bruise for him to touch, which I’m seriously considering.

“Is it cool if I stay in for a few?” he asks. “I don’t think I’m hot enough to keep my balls from freezing when I run back to my cabin.”

I point to the cover without looking at him because it makes me want too much. “Just pull up the top.”

“I can do that.”

Once again, we stare at each other like there are a million things we both want to do and say, but neither of us makes the move.

I tighten my towel around me and stuff my feet in my boots. Best to get out of here before I make an ass out of myself, or we end up in a tangled mess in the hot tub in front of my oddly-present mother. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow for my tattoo, unless you flake out on me.”

“I’ll be here.” He turns but then stops and faces me again. “And Penny? I’m sorry…about everything.”

Yeah. Me, too.

I had hoped to get inside and to bed without another confrontation. Unfortunately, Mom has different ideas.

She crosses her arms as she leans against the door to my room.

“Yes?” I grip my towel tightly as I step around her to change out of my swimsuit.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you being in the hot tub with a boy.”

I snort. “Mom. I’ve never, ever been in a hot tub without a boy unless I was alone.”

Mom sighs, and I pull out clean underwear and pajamas, wanting to rinse off in the shower so I can go to bed.

She’s rubbing her forehead and frowning when she finally finds more words. “But I know your teammates, Penny. It’s different.”

“And you invited Bishop and Gary to stay here on our off-season and told me to be nice.” I widen my eyes, daring her to contradict me.

Instead of fighting back, she pauses for a moment. “What do you know about Bishop?” And the way she says it makes me think she knows a lot more than she’s told me. I’m dying to ask her, but I don’t want to admit that I barely know anything about him, except how he makes me feel. I can’t imagine that helping my case for hanging with him in the hot tub, so I turn to snark. “Bishop Ripe, from California. Spoiled, surly guy who thinks he can work on cars, and thinks he can ride snowmachines—”

“You took him riding?” Mom brows shoot up. “Penny. We don’t have insurance for guests to do that!”

“Mom. Chill.” I sit on the bed, feeling stupid for not even thinking about that. “He’s a friend, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking, okay?” I sometimes hate the renting cabins business, but it does bring in some good cash. And she’s right. One lawsuit over a broken arm would probably destroy us.

“Friends don’t touch each other like he was touching you.” Mom’s jaw tightens. “I don’t see the guys on your team doing that.”

I can’t answer her because it would involve thinking about things I don’t want to think about right now. “You’re never here, Mom. What’s going on?”

She sighs and I swear looks guilty again somehow, staring at the floor but doesn’t speak.

“Fine.” I move past her for my shower. “You get to meddle in my life, but I can’t ask about yours.”

“Penny.” Mom’s voice has a pleading edge to it that I won’t understand until she starts talking, which I can tell she won’t. “You know that’s not fair.”

I’m still so amped up from everything I’ve been feeling over the past few days that I’m all out of patience. “You’re right.” Anger pours through me as I step closer. “It’s not fair that I’ve missed the last two team parties because you were working and Gramps was having a hard night. It’s not fair that I was told to be nice to the people staying here, and now you’re upset about it. It’s not fair that when I felt completely rejected by Mitch, my mom wasn’t around to talk to.”

Her jaw drops. “Honey… I’m so sorry, I—”

“I’m done.” I take the three steps to my bathroom. “Night.”

Closing the door isn’t solving anything but my need to get away, and right now, that’s enough. Why couldn’t the last thing to happen to me before I tried to go to sleep was Bishop touching my bruise instead of this?

Chapter Fifteen

Bishop

“Do you know that I’m proud to be here with you?” Gary leans back against the couch while I fidget next to him.

“Why would you be proud of that?”

“I hate that we need to be here, but I’m honored to work through this with you. Like I was honored with Troy or when I got my degree.”

Ah. I see where he’s going with this. Opening my mouth, I almost tell him this is stupid. All these talks are lame, but that’s not what comes out. “I’m proud of how I play the drums…of working with Gramps, being friends with Penny, and taking care of my mom.” Which I can’t do if I’m dead…

“That’s good. You should be proud of all those things. You take good care of her. Don’s talked to me about it a little bit.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rise, but I drum my thumbs and try to settle down. It makes sense they would all know my dad’s a prick. That there’s a restraining order and secret money involved so he leaves us the fuck alone. “She’s always taken care of me. It’s the least I can do.”

Gary nods and keeps talking. For the first time, we discuss my anxiety a little bit, how I feel and how often it happens. I’m sure he thinks it stems from my dad, but I don’t. I don’t think…

It’s a struggle to make the answers come out, but I manage it. He was right. This talk is more than trees and cold air. But…my gut doesn’t ache and I don’t feel like I’ve downed a ton of uppers.

When the time is up, I stop at the door. “I’m going to be out with Penny for a bit.”

He nods. “You know the rules.”

“Yep.”

Halfway out the door, Gary’s voice stops me. “Hey, Troy’s counselor tells him he should try to do one thing every day he’s proud of. It can be something little, like opening the door for someone or doing someone a favor. And when you do, let yourself revel in that. Congratulate yourself. Think you can do that?”

My fist tightens on the doorknob. After what happened with Maryanne, I’m not sure I deserve it. “I don’t know.”

…

I watch Penny as she walks along the wall, looking at tattoo designs for the millionth time. I’m not feeling anxious. Don’t want to push her into hurrying because I like watching her. She moves so smoothly, and I know that’s not something I’m supposed to notice or not something I would have noticed before, but it reminds me of the way she skates, or rides the snowmachines, or hell, the way she does anything. All fluid movements, but with a practiced perfection that I know is all automatic with her.

The tattoo guy sees it, too.

I want to break his nose.

“You’re slow as hell.” I stop right behind her. When my hands start shaking this time, it’s not because of anxiety, but because I want to touch her. We haven’t talked anymore about the kiss, or Loverboy, whose nose I suddenly want to break, but that doesn’t stop me from putting my hands on her shoulders, pretending I’m doing it to knead her muscles, when really I just want her skin beneath mine. She shivers.

Fuck, this girl is going to my head.

She said last night that I’m lighter, and though I still feel like weights are tying me down, I do feel more weightless when I’m with her. I want to hold onto that feeling even though I know everything else is still there, still threatening to pull me under. Shit, Maryanne came up, and I only took a couple pills and didn’t drink. That has to count for something.