Playing to Win (The Trouble with Tomboys Book2)

by Stephanie Street

Asher

  What the hell?

  Scrambling from the car, I ran after her, slamming her door shut on the way. “Jordan!”

  She ran down an alley between a row of houses.

  “Payton!” she cried.

  Searching ahead, I spotted a group of four middle school kids. All boys. One of them glanced up when Jordan called out, his brows lifting with surprise before lowering again. Scowling, he turned to his friends and said something before striding toward Jordan.

  I stopped a couple yards away.

  “Jordan, what are you doing here?” The kid stood with his shoulders hunched, fists clenched at his sides.

  “No, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at practice.”

  The kid, Payton, glanced over his shoulder at his friends. He turned back to Jordan, his face twisted with anger.

  “How do you know I’m not on my way there?” he asked.

  Jordan put her hands on her hips. “I’m not stupid, Payton. The rink is on the other side of the middle school from here.” She pointed to his friends. “They aren’t on your team.”

  Payton scowled. “Butt out, Jordan. It’s none of your business what I’m doing.” His gaze flicked over me. “Just get back in the car with your boyfriend and leave me alone.” He started to turn away, but Jordan grabbed his arm. My body tensed, ready to help if she needed me.

  “He’s not my boyfriend and you’re coming with me.” She pulled on his arm, but the kid dug in his heels.

  “No, I’m not.” He shot another look at his friends. One of them laughed, making catcalls.

  Jordan stopped pulling, but didn’t let go of his arm. “Dad is going to kill you when he finds out you skipped hockey practice.” She lowered her voice but I heard what she said. “You’re already in enough trouble. What’s wrong with you?”

  Payton’s scowl deepened as my gaze darted between the two siblings. “What’s it to you? Go away, Jordan.”

  Jordan’s jaw dropped. “What’s it to me? You’re my brother! Do you think it’s fun being sent away from dinner to sit in my room while you get yelled at?”

  Payton’s jaw clenched, his face turning red. His friends had quieted down again, waiting to see what he’d do next. I stepped forward as Payton leaned toward Jordan, his nose barely an inch from hers.

  “Leave. Me. Alone.” He wrenched his arm from her grasp and took off running, his friends following close behind, their laughter echoing down the alley.

  Jordan started after him, but I caught her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind.

  “Let him go,” I said as she struggled against my hold.

  “No! That’s my brother!” Jordan’s hair whipped in my face and I tightened my grip.

  “I know. What are you going to do? Chase him down and then what? You can’t make him do something he doesn’t want to do.”

  She struggled a few seconds more before her body sagged against mine. “Dad’s going to kill him.”

  “No, he won’t. And even if he is mad, that’s on Payton. Not you.”

  Jordan turned in my arms and buried her face in my chest. “I don’t know why he’s doing this! He’s not a bad kid.” She tilted her face until our eyes met. “Did you see those kids?” she asked, eyes watering.

  I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant and having no right to judge. Anyone looking at me could lump me in with those kids. Dark clothes. Shaggy hair. Bad attitude. Give them a guitar, put them in a band-

  “He’s been in trouble for months,” the words spilled from her mouth. “He was grounded most of the summer because he got caught driving his friend’s mom’s car at two in the morning. He got pulled over by the police.” She shook her head and I could almost feel her pain, her worry. “It was horrible. Mom and Dad had to pick him up at the police station. If he’s not careful, he’s going to end up in juvie.” Her voice broke on the last word and she dropped her face to my chest again, quiet sobs wracking her body. I had a feeling Jordan Parks didn’t cry over much. Her brother was breaking her heart.

  Not knowing what else to do and not minding having her close, I tucked her head under my chin and just held on until she’d cried all she could cry.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered into my shirt.

  “Don’t be.” Her arms went slack around my waist, my cue to let her go.

  Jordan wiped the tears from her cheeks with her hands. “Gah! What’s the matter with me?” She gave me her back and continued to scrub at her face. “I just cried all over a stranger!”

  I tried not to let her words hurt because I knew what she meant. “I’m not that strange. You did eavesdrop on me singing.”

  Jordan whirled around, her cheeks blazing. “I-” She stopped, pointing her finger at me. “That-” Her lips pressed into a flat line as she glared.

  “You’re incredibly adorable when you’re flustered,” I said, reaching out to tuck a wisp of her hair behind her ear.

  “No, I’m not.” She pushed my hand away, making me laugh.

  “You are. Come on. We’re going to be late to practice.”

  Her eyes widened. “Practice! Dad is going to kill us!”

  “Well, then let’s go.” Grabbing her hand, I pulled her toward my car.

  We drove to the rink in silence. Jordan needed time to collect herself and truth be told, so did I. I’d been on this girl’s bad side since the moment she laid eyes on me. First, in the parking lot and during lunch the first day of school. Then, at practice. She’d been avoiding me. Glaring at me. Fearing I would somehow steal her dream of starting. I understood that kind of fear, experienced it myself. Jordan’s passion for hockey matched my own for music.

  Somehow, I hoped we’d both get what we wanted.

  As soon as I turned off the engine, we launched out of our seats to grab our gear. Fifteen minutes late. We sprinted across the parking lot. I reached out to hold the door for her. Inside, the sound of Coach’s whistle echoed in the halls as he called out drills.

  “Don’t worry about Dad. Once I explain everything, he won’t be mad.” She gave me a sad look. “At least, not at us.”

  I nodded, not knowing what to say. We arrived at the guy’s locker room first. I stopped and Jordan kept going. For some reason, instead of rushing inside to change, I stood there, watching her.

  She’d almost made it to the women’s locker room when she paused and turned around. I hadn’t moved and she didn’t seem surprised to find me still there.

  “Thank you, Asher.” The sincerity in her voice made my heart skip a beat. Could this be my chance to be more than Jordan’s competition on the ice? More than the guy who annoyed her by parking in her spot and sitting at her lunch table?

  “You’re welcome.”

  I didn’t know the answer, but I knew what I hoped. I hoped we could start over.

  Chapter Nine

  Jordan

  I was right. Dad didn’t get mad. At least, not at me. And not at Asher. I’d seen the two of them talking at the end of practice. When they finished, Dad shook Asher’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Probably thanking him for giving me a ride.

  After practice, I rode with Dad to the high school to pick up my car. He didn’t say anything about Payton, I already told him everything once Asher and I made it on the ice, but stress and anger made his shoulders and brow tight.

  At the school, Dad removed the jumper cables from the back of his SUV while I popped the hood of my car. He connected the cables and before long the engine started.

  “I’ll see you at home,” he said once he’d disconnected the cables again.

  “Dad-” I started to say, but he cut me off.

  “Just go on home, kiddo.” His voice sounded tired, worn completely out.

  “Okay.” I hated feeling this way. I could just strangle my brother for making my parents worry like this!

  Dad watched me until I drove out of the parking lot.

  When I got home, Mom met me at the door, her eyes red from crying and I knew right away Payton h
adn’t come home yet. Dad must be out looking for him.

  “I warmed up some leftovers,” she said while keeping her vigil at the front door.

  I couldn’t eat. Instead, I headed up the stairs to shower. Once I finished, I opened my window and tried to work on my homework, but found it impossible to concentrate. Who could think about math after a day like today?

  Not me.

  I abandoned my homework for the bean bag chair under the window. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to open my window in days, but tonight, I hoped Asher would be out there. I needed to hear his song.

  With my window open, the cool breeze brushing over my skin, I waited. Instead, I heard the front door slam and Dad’s angry voice. Mom’s softer tones worked to calm him, but Payton yelled over her.

  More shouts reached my room from downstairs and I decided to send a group text to Joe and Bobby. I’d already sent one earlier to let them know Payton had run off.

  Me: Dad found him.

  Bobby texted back almost immediately. He was in Indianapolis for a game, but wouldn’t play until the next night.

  Bobby: He getting his butt chewed?

  Me: Big time.

  Joe chimed in. I hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to him after practice. Dad had been in a hurry to get out of there.

  Joe: What an idiot! What’s his problem anyway?

  Bobby: Puberty?

  Me: Eww.

  Joe: *fist bump*

  Me: I thought it would be better after the car thing over the summer.

  Joe: Kid was scared crapless.

  Bobby: He needs something to focus on other than getting in trouble.

  Dad said that all the time, find something to focus on to keep busy. It was one of the reasons we all played hockey. He believed it would keep us out of trouble. It worked for the older boys.

  Me: Hello. Hockey.

  Joe: Pay isn’t into it like we are.

  True. While Bobby, Joe, and I couldn’t get enough of our favorite sport, Payton groaned whenever we put on our rollerblades to play in our basement with brooms and tennis balls. Mom insisted we play with full equipment once we got big enough to hurt each other. When Bobby and Joe lived at home, there were always guys downstairs playing.

  Bobby: What’s he into then?

  Joe: Being a dirtbag.

  Me: Super helpful, Joey.

  It made me think, though. Fine, Payton didn’t love hockey like we did. But there had to be something else he felt passionate about. Other than getting in trouble.

  Outside my window, Asher plucked at his guitar strings, drawing my attention away from my phone, but not away from my brothers completely.

  Bobby: We gotta think of something, guys. That little turd’s only 12 and he’s already been picked up by the police. What’s he gonna be like when he gets older?

  A sobering thought.

  I told my brothers I’d talk to them later. The music outside my window stopped abruptly. I didn’t think much of it until it didn’t start back up again after several moments. I lifted myself onto my knees, peeking over the window sill into the backyard.

  “Bahhh.” I fell back onto the beanbag clutching my chest where my heart raced.

  Deep laughter floated into my bedroom through the open window.

  “Come down and talk to me.”

  Holy crap, Jordan!

  I peered out the window again. Asher stood just below my window.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  He made a face. “Why wouldn’t you? Come on.”

  The memory of his arms around me while I cried asked the same question. Why wouldn’t I?

  Without replying, I shut my window and tossed on a hoodie. Downstairs, my parents still talked with Payton. They’d moved into the kitchen blocking me from using the back door. If I wanted to avoid them I’d have to leave through the front and walk around.

  And I did want to avoid them.

  Asher waited in our yard, his guitar hanging from a strap around his chest around his back. He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened his arms and for some crazy reason, I walked straight into them.

  The only sound in the backyard, other than my out of whack heart, came from inside my house.

  “I was worried,” he said into my hair. “Did he just get home?”

  I nodded, my face pressed against his chest.

  Asher sighed. Somehow, I felt glad he’d been the one with me earlier when I found Payton. His calm reassurance differing vastly from the response I’d have gotten from my friends if they’d been the ones with me.

  “Let’s sit down.” Asher let go of me only to slide his hand into mine. He led me to the wrought iron furniture where we sat a week ago. Only this time, he removed his guitar from around his torso and leaned it against the chair before pulling me down beside him on the loveseat. And again, I let him.

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  For some crazy reason, I did.

  “Payton’s twelve. He’s the youngest and there’s the biggest age gap between he and I than between me and my older two brothers. He’s always been the baby, you know?” I had no idea why I told him anything, but it didn’t matter. He asked and I needed to vent.

  Asher nodded. “Believe me, I understand about the baby in the family.”

  I smiled a little thinking about his little brother. “That’s right, you do.”

  Asher sat back, pulling me with him. His arm curled around my shoulders, feeling comfortable and just…right.

  “It’s not exactly the same, because Caleb’s still a baby, but there’s no denying it’s not the same for him as it has been for me.”

  I nodded because he was right. “Well, Payton’s always been a little different. I guess, it is for me, too, because I’m the only girl, but I’ve kind of always been one of the guys.”

  Asher snorted, but didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, Payton’s never been into hockey like the rest of us. He’s always been a bit more broody.”

  Asher’s fingers toyed with my hair and before I could think better of it, I turned my face into him, inhaling deeply, enjoying the spicy scent he wore.

  “What does he like to do? Maybe he wouldn’t be acting out if he didn’t have to play hockey.”

  Asher

  A trace of bitterness laced my words, but I didn’t know if Jordan picked up on it or not. I knew all about being forced to do something you didn’t want to do. The difference for me, I’d found my passion and as long as I could do both things, I’d compromise.

  Maybe if Payton could find the thing he loved, he could work something out that would keep him out of trouble.

  To my surprise, Jordan snuggled into my side. I wanted to comment, ask what went on in that beautiful head of hers, but feared breaking whatever spell we were under. I didn’t want it to end.

  “It’s crazy you say that. Bobby, Joe, and I were just saying the same thing. But Dad would never let Payton quit hockey. One, he’s too good, even if he doesn’t like it. Two, hockey’s an institution in our family. Everybody plays. My uncles. My cousins. I have an aunt who plays for the US National team.”

  “Wow. That’s cool. But that doesn’t mean Payton doesn’t have something else he’s interested in.” Like me, I wanted to say but didn’t because we were talking about her brother not me.

  Jordan sat up straight, putting some distance between us I regretted until her hands gripped my arms. The intensity in her gaze had nothing to do with the thoughts running around in my head, but heaven help me, her lips were just inches away.

  “You mean like you and your music,” she asked.

  “Well, yeah.”

  We’d already discussed hockey wasn’t my passion. In fact, that very conversation had been the catalyst leading to a week of complete radio silence from Jordan. She hadn’t even been eavesdropping on my nightly jam sessions in my backyard. I knew because I’d been spying on her window. Unless she’d been sly about it, Jordan hadn’t been listening to me sing.
<
br />   Which was fine. I’d been surprised when she told me she liked listening in the first place. I just figured her not opening her window meant she was still upset with me. And that kind of sucked.

  “Asher,” she said, pulling me away from my thoughts and back to the present.

  “What?” Man, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to spend every waking minute with her. What did that mean? I’d never felt this way about anyone before.

  “I just thought of something. It might be a long shot, me looking for something that isn’t there, but what about music?”

  “What about music?” I asked.

  Her shoulders fell a little and she rolled her eyes. “For Payton!” She grabbed my hands, further distracting me from the words coming out of her mouth. “He’s always got his earbuds in listening to some weird band or another. What if we got him into music?”

  “We?” I’d do just about anything Jordan asked me at this point, but was she asking?

  “What if-” She bit her lip.

  “Yeah? What if…”

  “Never mind. It’s stupid. You’re probably busy anyway. I was just thinking…” She shrugged. “I was just thinking maybe music could help him somehow.”

  “And you want me to-”

  “Nothing. I’m not thinking straight. Why would you want to help some out of control middle schooler? That’s right. You wouldn’t.”

  Suddenly, all the stars aligned and my brain started working the way it should even though Jordan still had her side pressed against mine, my hands clasped in hers.

  “Wait a second.” I needed just a little more time to figure this out. “Listen, I have an idea, but I can’t guarantee it’ll work. If it doesn’t we can try to think of something else, but if we did it this way, I’d for sure have time.”

  Jordan frowned, obviously not following me. “Can’t guarantee what will work?”

  “Ms. Jackson talked to me last week about some dumb thing I have to do to graduate. Community service hours or something like that.”

  Jordan nodded. “Right. We all have to do it. I finished mine last year.” Her eyes widened. “Are they making you do all the hours?”

  “I don’t know. She just said this semester during flex.”