Hainsey
The night feels perfect, like I'm not actually Hainsey Blake Stone that's been put into a shitty situation; I'm an actual person that's out with his group of friends that are girls. Yeah, people shot me some weird-ass looks when we walked into the restaurant, probably thinking I'm some type of male whore or part of one of those groups that allow a man to have more than one wife, but I don't care. Being here with the girls and taking a small vacation from my life is just what I've needed, something that's long overdue.
Leaning back in the booth with my arm wrapped around Ems's waist, I fade off into the background, picking up on the country music that's playing, the scent of stale cigarette smoke through the open window, and the girls laughing. I'm almost fully convinced that they're joking around about me being the only one that's underage again. I've lost count of how many times it's happened and how they've gotten their point across. Earlier, Ems asked me if I wanted a sip of her margarita like I was some type of child. I mean, I know I'm not old enough to drink in Canada yet, but still. The girls are just taking every chance they can get at teasing me. Something tells me I should make a comment about how I'm not going to get wrinkles as fast as them because I'm younger. Thankfully, I have enough common sense to know that the three of them will probably combine their strength and sink me to the bottom of Lost Lake if those words make it out of my mouth – I keep my mouth shut and take the teasing.
To be honest, I love it. It reminds me of the old times.
"So this guy kept flirting with you even after Hainsey said you were his girlfriend?" Rosa gapes after taking a sip of her beer.
"Yep," Ems nods. "Hains even kissed me in front of them all and he didn't give up. Missed the message, I suppose." She stirs around the slushy drink with a straw, and then takes a small sip. "It was kind of funny, actually."
"Well," Val laughs, "have you looked in the mirror? You're no longer that girl with braces and refused to wear makeup."
After taking a sip of my ginger ale, I say, "I thought the braces were cute." I side-glance Ems. "And she definitely doesn't need makeup."
Rosa and Val sigh dreamily, and tilt their heads so they're resting against each other.
"Where can we get a guy like you, Hainsey?" Rosa says.
I want to laugh at her comment. Laugh to the point where I make myself look like a freaking psychopath. If only her and Ems knew what's really going on behind the scenes like Val does.
"You okay?" Ems murmurs in my ear.
I nod, scared that my underlying emotions are visible on my face. I'm not going to ruin the night by telling Ems and Rosa what I've been dealing with. This is the first time we've all gotten together in years – tonight is our night to have fun and relax and reminisce. I tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "Yeah," I murmur back. "I'm good."
Beneath the table, Rosa lightly kicks me in the shin. "So what are you doing for your nineteenth birthday?"
I shrug and scratch the back of my neck. "Haven't really thought about it." I eye Ems. "Something I wasn't expecting popped up."
She elbows me in the side, blushing. I take a moment to let my ego get the best of me. Making Ems blush, stutter, and do other shit like that is such a foreign feeling that I can't help but like it. Normally, I'm the one who's stuttering and making a fool of myself.
The conversation continues on, changing from how Rosa can't believe that we've all grown up so much to everyone's plans for September to places we would go if we had a free plane ticket. We laugh and smile and have a good time, almost like we're teenagers again. We even get up and hit the dance floor at some point, dancing along to one of the country songs. Well, the girls dance. I stand off to the side, glad that they're having fun with a slight buzz.
While they dance, I look around the restaurant. I don't know if I'd actually call it a restaurant – it's more like a bar mixed with a club. It's country-themed, hence the country tunes and obvious décor, and I'm enjoying it a lot. Though there is a small portion of my mind that keeps going back to my mom and how she's doing, I manage to keep my spirits high for dinner and the remainder of the evening.
When it's time to head home, I offer to drive Ems back so Val and Rosa don't have to go out of their way.
Val instantly agrees, giving me that look that says something along the lines of, You go get your girl, boy! I roll my eyes. There's no way Ems and I are going to do more than make out. First of all, I still don't have anything. And second of all, when it happens, it's going to be somewhere special – not in the back of a car.
Rosa gives me a giant hug, telling me she'll definitely see me before she has to head back to Abbotsford.
On the way back, Ems and I talk. Her and Val are a lot alike when under the influence – they both like to talk. I get an earful about how much she hates her mom, and then about how much she misses her dad. That topic quickly fades into the abyss when I bring up hockey, though. Which is good because I don't want to hear anything else about her parents or my parents or the shit that's happened. I want things to be as normal as possible.
"I'm so excited to see you play tomorrow!" she says, overjoyed.
I smile and pull into the empty parking space at the bottom of the stone stairs that lead up to her house. Ems – Drunk Ems, Sober Ems, Angry Ems, Sad Ems, Happy Ems – is adorable no matter the state she's in. "Well, I'm happy you're coming," I reply, shutting off the engine.
Ems starts to unbuckle herself. Knowing that she's going to have a problem getting up the stairs, I quickly get out of the truck and jog around to the other side to help Ems out, but not before I sling her purse over my shoulder. If any of the hockey boys saw me, they'd laugh their asses off. Hell, Val and Rosa probably would too.
Once I'm on the passenger side, Ems instantly gives in to my offered help.
"I think I'm a little drunk," she hiccups.
I laugh under my breath. "No shit," I say. "I can smell the tequila."
She attempts a shrug, but only one shoulder manages to complete the motion. "I like the stuff."
"Clearly."
When we're up the stairs and at the entrance, the wooden door opens just as I'm reaching for it.
It's Mrs. Brantford.
Her eyes widen at the sight. I glance at Ems. She looks exactly like she did when she arrived at the restaurant, so I don't know what her mom is so concerned about.
"Hey, Mrs. Brantford," I say.
She gives me a tight smile. "Hainsey."
I almost frown. What the hell? She's never been so uptight around me before. I mean, she has when it comes to work and shit, but it's never been directed at me.
"Heeeey Moooom," Ems drawls. "I think I had too much to drink."
"That seems to be the case," her mom says in an indifferent tone.
This time I do frown. "Cut her some slack," I say before I can stop myself. "She's nineteen. Like you did anything better when you were that age. For all we know, you could've been sleeping around. At least Ems is home and not at some other guy's house. At least she has someone like me to bring her home."
Yeah, I should really learn how to keep my mouth shut sometimes because as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I may not have said it directly, but I basically just accused Ems's mom of being a slut. My words resemble a slap across the face.
Mrs. Brantford gapes at me. I'm sure Ems would be, too, but she's checked-out at the moment.
An apology lingers on my tongue – I'd rather not lose my job – but Mrs. Brantford sighs and shakes her head. "You're right. I'm sorry. You have to understand that it's hard for me to accept the fact that my little girl has grown up."
More rude, truthful words form on my tongue. I bite down. Hard. I could point out that it's all her fault that she didn't get to experience Ems and Rosa growing up. I could call her out on the shit she said five years ago that internally scarred her daughter. I could even tell her that she disgusts me for not even trying to mend the broken relationships. But I don't. It's not my place. If I did say something, I'd be speaking for Ems, and that's not right. This is her business – not mine.
So all I do is scoop up a drunken girl into my arms and push past her mom, heading for the bedroom I used to spend hours upon hours in.
By the time I get to the top of the stairs, Ems is already passed out in my arms.
I contemplate whether or not I should wake her up and get her to brush her teeth. I eventually decide against it. She looks peaceful and content as she breathes in and out so deeply. So all I do is lay her down under the covers, plant a kiss on the bridge of her nose, right on the scar, and then head back into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.
From behind my back, at the beginning of the hallway, I hear Mrs. Brantford express her thanks, saying she doesn't know what she'd do without me.
I don't reply. She doesn't need to be thanking me because I'd do it no matter what.
I'm just about at the top of the stairs when she speaks again.
"How did she do it?"
I freeze. "Do what?" I ask without turning around.
"Win you back. I know you were furious with my daughter for leaving, Hainsey. I also know that her goal was to win you back – I may not be present every day in her life, but I am still her mother and us mothers know this stuff. So how did she do it?"
I shake my head. I'm not going to tell her what Ems did with the reservations and how the conversation went when she locked us in the cabin. Or how the emotions have been building up between us through the summer. That's our story. Something that I'm only going to tell if Ems is there with me.
So, over my shoulder, I eye Mrs. Brantford carefully. "The smallest step in the right direction can turn out to be the biggest step of your life," I reply. "Maybe you should think about that one."
That's all I say to her. Let her think on that. While the situation is similar – a broken relationship with someone you love – there are noticeable differences. For one thing, Ems didn't give up on me like Mrs. Brantford gave up on her. If she can't see that, then she's screwed with getting her daughter back.
As I step out of the entrance, I swear I hear a sob of despair from upstairs.
I hate myself for thinking this way, but I think it's good that she's crying. Maybe it means she can understand what I've said.
Maybe she'll figure out a way to repair things with her daughter.