“Well, that’s the end of the tour. I’ll be interviewing you all individually over the next few days. Anyone want to volunteer to go first?”
Everyone’s hands go up but mine.
Later that afternoon after wasting time at the bookstore down the block, I spend three hours with two doctors as they grill me on hypothetical injury scenarios involving soccer players, ballerinas, and even a golfer. On day two, I show off my anatomy skills by performing a dissection of a fetal pig. On the third day, I complete a long-answer test which seems way more intense than anything I had to do in school.
Needless to say, I’m exhausted by the time I get back to the five-star hotel that the hospital put me up in. The room overlooks the city where I can see the baseball diamond, the new hockey arena, and the mega-hospital. The sound of the busy city buzzes below.
As I stand forty floors up, looking out at the world below me, I can’t help but feel like something is missing. Everything is perfect on paper – the hospital, the job, the position – yet my gut screaming that something’s not right.
I look at my phone. The screen has been blank for days.
The amount of times I’ve almost dialed Logan’s number is embarrassing.
I toss my phone onto the hotel bed and stare out at the city in a blank daze.
I’m mad at Logan for so many reasons. I’m mad that he was still so obsessed with the Corazon trophy. I’m mad that he accused me of blackmailing him. But the reason I’m mad at him the most is that I miss him. And I hate that I miss him. I hate that I want him here in this swanky hotel with me. I hate that all I want to do is cook a meal with him and play video games together. I hate that I have to turn off my phone because knowing he’s not texting me is breaking my soul into pieces.
And, most of all, I hate that I still love him.
LOGAN
The Blades are well into the third round of the playoffs and there’s pressure pushing down on me from every angle. We’ve lost three games in a row against the Cleveland Crushers, my old team. If we don’t win the next one, we’re out of the playoffs. Meanwhile, the media is running with the story of the hockey bad boy who had a very public breakup. My story is all over the internet and there’s nothing I can do to get them to stop talking about it. The one bright light in all this is that the contract is still a secret despite my wallet being one million dollars lighter.
Every time I think of Riley, I feel the sting of betrayal piercing my chest.
The worst part about all this is not seeing Riley in the crowd. I have a sick feeling in my gut that I’m going to lose the playoffs, the Corazon, and Riley all in a few short weeks.
It’s game four and our life in these playoffs is on the line. Coach gives us a pep talk but my heart is not in it. Still, I have to push through and be there for my guys.
The puck drops and I’m fighting for it. The crowd is a wave of blue and they’re cheering but I can barely hear them. All I focus on is the game at hand. We’re already down two goals and time is running out.
Pushing the other team’s defenseman against the boards, I get the puck on my stick. Looking up, I see Marcus. I instinctively pass it to him and he takes a shot. Blocked. I get the rebound and shoot right on target. The goalie blocks that one too and the play is whistled down.
Sighing, I instinctively look up into the stands at the family area. Riley isn’t there. I focus back on the ice.
As I get ready for another face-off, I note that Cooper is directly in front of me, looking directly into my eyes. I can feel the competitive heat coming off him. For a moment, I’m transported back to our childhood, to those friendly pick-up games at the end of the street.
The referee drops the puck. I pull it away from under him and take a shot, straight off the draw. The goalie gloves it with ease. The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the second period. I lean over on my knees and shake my head.
“Damn.”
Marcus bumps into me. “Don’t worry, you’ll get one next period.”
“I’ve completely lost my luck,” I say.
“You’re Logan Drake. You don’t need luck.”
I look back at the empty seat in the stands.
“You feelin’ alright?” Marcus asks. “You look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Seriously though, you seem rough.”
“Just frustrated.”
As we skate across the ice to make our way to the locker room, he looks at me.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” He asks. “She really got to you, huh?”
I don’t say anything.
“Don’t worry about her,” he says. “If she doesn’t want you, that’s her loss.”
“Yeah,” I agree absently.
“Trust me. If she wanted you, she’d be with you. There’s no use in crying over someone who doesn’t want you.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. A horrible public breakup seems to make everyone a relationship expert. Even the wives and girlfriends have been giving me unsolicited advice. All I can do is smile and nod, pretending that their advice will do me good.
As we make our way into the locker room, I find my cubby. As I take my gloves off and toss them aside, I look through my bag for a towel. Something gold catches my eye. Riley’s rose pendant necklace.
A knot forms in my stomach. Squeezing my eyes shut, I push away all the memories. I can’t let this get to me, not right now. But the simple reminder is enough to send my feelings of self-loathing into a downward spiral.
How could I be such an idiot?
This whole thing was a mistake from the beginning. Why did we have to make that contract? Why did I have to accuse her of something that, deep down, I know she didn’t mean to do.
So, how did it happen?
“Drake!” Coach Murphy yells.
I stand up. “Yes, Coach?”
“Where’s your mind at right now?”
“It’s on the ice, Coach.”
“That’s not what it looks like. You’re capable of more, you hear me? No more distractions.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Five more minutes,” he says. “Then I want to see all of you play the best twenty minutes of hockey of your damn lives.”
“Yes, Coach,” the team says.
Marcus furrows his brow as he looks at me. “You gonna be okay?”
“I just need to get some air.”
“K, but be quick. We’ve got some hockey to play.”
I cross the locker room and exit out into the hallway where it’s cooler, quieter.
There’s movement and a bright light to my right. I look up to see several cameras and a journalist interviewing Harrison Cooper. Although I’ve done my best to avoid him off the ice, moments like this have continually popped up during the last few games.
I turn away, making sure I’m not in the shot. Phone in hand, I want to text Riley and ask her if she’s watching, but I avoid it as I’ve taught myself to do. The background on my phone’s home screen is the picture she took that night at the bar. I find myself staring at it often. I can’t bring myself to change it. Just seeing her sweet smile and gray eyes remind me how much I love her, how much I miss her.
Shaking my head, I look away.
A tall shadow passes by. It’s Cooper.
“Hey Coop,” I say. “Good playing out there.”
“Oh,” he says, surprised that I’m talking to him. “You too. You really found your place on that team.”
I give a half-hearted smirk. “They’ve been good to me.”
There’s an awkward pause.
“Listen,” he says, “about our altercation…”
I put up my hand. “We don’t have to talk about that.”
“No, we do,” he says. “I really liked Catherine and I didn’t know what to believe at the time, I—” He rubs his face.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Cooper says. He looks up into my eyes. “I pushed you away from our friendship, our team. It was wrong.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks.”
“Friends?” He puts his hand out.
“Get in here.” I grab Coop’s hand and bring him in for a hug.
“Let’s grab a drink together after this series is over.”
“As long as you promise not to take any nude pictures of me,” I say.
We laugh.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I have no desire to.”
I smirk. “I won’t take that personally.”
Coop exhales as if he’s been holding in a breath for hours. “It’s good to be back, bud.’
“Agreed. Good to be back.”
He squeezes my shoulder and an overwhelming sense of relief floods through me like I’m relaxing for the first time in a long time.
Coop smirks. “May the best team win.”
“May the best team win.”
We shake hands before returning to our respective locker rooms. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Marcus playfully punches my shoulder.
“Looks like the fresh air has done you good.”
I nod and smile. “I think so. I think things are going to be okay.”
If I don’t have Riley, at least I still have the lessons she taught me.
“Good,” Marcus says. “Because we’ve got the most important twenty minutes of our lives coming up. Twenty minutes on the ice will turn your mood around. Are you ready to win this thing?”
“I’m ready to give it all I’ve got.”
The next twenty minutes of regulation hockey end up being the craziest twenty minutes of my career. Well, second craziest (the fight on the ice with Coop still takes the cake).
Marcus and I have four shots which are so close that the game has to stop for slow-mo replays. We manage to tie the game up until the last twenty seconds when Coop scores and the Crushers win the game.
The Blades lose.
As the Crushers celebrate, the Blades express their exasperation and frustration.
The defeat washes over me and I feel…fine. As the other guys are slamming their sticks on the ice and burying their faces in their hands, I can’t help but feel joyful for my friend and my former team. I feel a great sense of relief knowing that the pressure is no longer on me to perform. I can finally relax.
As Coop skates by me, I smile and give him a fist-bump.
“Good game,” I say. “It looks like you’ll be buying those drinks.”
He smiles gleefully as I pat him on the back.
As he skates away, Marcus skates up next to me.
“Maybe next year.” He pats me on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” I say. “Although this wasn’t so bad.”
“We were so close to being amazing.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “We were amazing.”
Marcus smirks. “And we still are”
***
After a long day of press conferences where I spend the day answering questions about the same three topics (the playoffs, the tie with Coop, and potentially winning the Corazon trophy), I finally get on a plane and head back to Seattle.
The sun is already setting when I get to my dark and empty apartment. The place feels larger and quieter than it did before. There’s no purse next to the door, no books strewn over the coffee table, no delicious scented strawberry lip gloss or green apple shampoo in the bathroom.
Once I settle back in, I wipe the dust off the surface of the stove and make a meal for one. Sitting on the couch, I watch TV while I eat alone. Back to the status quo.
As I eat dinner, I look up at the shelves on the walls. There are more trophies than I remember – trophies from the juniors, my first year in the international league, and even trophies from when I was a kid. I’ve been so preoccupied with the empty spot in the middle that I’ve been ignoring the rest of my achievements. I’ve been rewarded handsomely for my efforts yet I’ve always wanted more. And for what? To inflate my own ego? To become an idol?
As I look up at that empty space reserved for the Corazon trophy, I don’t feel that longing anymore. I don’t feel that impossible standard that I need to live up to.
Riley was right. I don’t need any of those things. What I needed was that moment with Coop, to get my friend back. And I did it.
When I’m done my dinner, I retrieve the framed photo of Coop and me from our childhood and I place it in the empty spot on the shelf.
There. No more empty spots. Except for the one that aches in my chest.
Pulling my phone out, I instinctively open my gallery and look at the selfies I took with Riley. I zoom in on her face, her smile, those gray sea-glass eyes.
I’m an idiot. A huge fucking idiot.
Thinking back to the party for Coach, I remember Riley’s reaction when I accused her of blackmailing me.
I fucked up. Bad.
All Riley ever wanted was for me to find what truly made me happy – not trophies or titles, but friends and girlfriends. No, not girlfriends. Just one. The one.
I shake my head.
How could Riley ever want to be near me again after what I accused her of?
Why did I do that? I should have known she’d never betray me. I should have known.
But how was I supposed to know? She was the only one with the contract. It was someone close to her who did this. But who, if not her?
I sigh as I sink into the couch.
I was an asshole.
I am an asshole.
If only there was some way to let her know that I’d trade the Corazon Trophy away a hundred times just to have things the way they were again. Would she even want me back?
As I stew in my thoughts, I turn on the TV and watch mindless late-night shows as I fall asleep alone.
This is how I spend the next week and a half as I watch the rest of the playoffs to see if Coop and the Crushers win. The only time I peel myself off the couch is when the food delivery guy rings the bell.
When the Crushers win in five games, I feel mixed emotions. I’m happy for my friend and my former team, but I realize just how much I’ve fallen.
After another few days of self-loathing, I grow tired of throwing myself a pity party. Taking a much needed shower, I pack up my hockey stuff and drive to the ice rink to release some stress. The cool ice and the sound of the puck hitting the net always helps me clear my mind.
As I step onto the ice, I take in a deep breath of cool air. I do a few laps to warm up before tapping my stick on the ice and taking a shot at the puck.
Usually hockey is the one way I can disconnect from the world, but today something feels different. My thoughts keep going over all the stupid things I’ve done, like a supercut of my greatest failures.
Everything I’ve worked for seems so silly and insignificant now. The Corazon trophy included. All I want is Riley back in my life.
“Who’s there?” A deep, boisterous voice echoes.
I look up to see Mr. Balder standing in the stands.
“Hey, Mr. Balder. It’s me, Logan. I’m just practicing.” I glide to the edge of the rink so we don’t have to shout.
“Practicing? It’s the post-season! You should be golfing.”
“Golfing’s not really my sport.”
“No shit.” He looks me up and down. “You want a ride to the airport?”
“Airport?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah, so we can go to Vegas. The award ceremony is this evening, you dolt!”
“Oh. It is? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. And my ride is waiting outside. Are you coming?”
“I—”
I can’t believe it. This is the night I’ve been waiting for all year and now that it’s here, I barely care.
“You’re going to be a huge star at tonight’s ceremony! With the way you played and your reunion with Harrison Cooper. It’d be insane if you didn’t go.”
I shift my weight uncomfortably from one skate to the other. “I’d have to go home and get my suit.”
“You�
�ve got time!” Balder waits for my response. “Come on, boy, what are you waiting for?”
“You go ahead, I’ll find my own way there.”
Balder nods, happy with my compliance. I give him a half-hearted smile.
He pulls away, but not before stopping one last time. “You know, it’s too bad you and Riley broke up. You two really had something.”
There it is, that aching in my chest comes back like a roaring fire.
“Yeah,” I manage to say.
“It’s too bad she turned down my job offer. It’s not like you two would’ve been working together that often.”
“Wait…what?”
“Riley. I was so impressed with all the projects she was working on at school – you know, we emailed a few times back and forth. I offered her a position working with the medical team. They’re opening their own innovative sports medicine lab right here in the city. She was extremely appreciative and, frankly, I thought she’d take it in a heartbeat…but she turned it down because she didn’t want to work with you after what happened.”
“You offered her a job?”
“Yeah, about a week ago after our season ended. Students always have the best insight into the latest technology. I offered her a good starting salary, benefits and all.”
“And she turned it down because of me?”
“She said working with you would hurt too much.”
She's turning down her one chance to work in this city because of me?
Guilt floods through my belly.
“Anyway,” Balder pats his pockets. “I should go. My ride is waiting but my flight won’t. See you later this evening in Vegas. You better be looking good.”
“Huh?”
“The awards tonight? You better fuckin’ be there. Focus, kid.”
“Oh yeah, sure.” My mind is elsewhere.
Balder disappears down the hallway.
I stand on the ice in deep thought before deciding to give up for the day. My mind is too distracted.
Heading to the locker room, I shower and change into fresh clothes. As I shove my workout clothes into my gym bag, I spot something shiny pooled at the bottom. It’s Riley’s rose pendant.
Lifting the necklace up, I admire it as it glitters in the light. Handling it carefully, I put it back into my pocket.
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