We talk about some advertising for my merchandise, which I’ve never done a lot of. I just like that it sells to my fans from my online store. I only have a few things—a couple of T-shirts, hoodies, wineglasses that say “Slay then rosé.” “Do I need to spend money on that?” I ask Harper. “They sell like crazy.”
“They’ll sell more if you advertise.”
“But that’s not what I’m about.”
This meeting is getting me upset. Harper tells me her ideas and I listen, but at the end, I say, “Can I think about it?”
“Of course! Let’s set up another meeting next week. Meanwhile, give some thought to your branding and changing up your image. The kinds of things you feature in your videos. Your audience is getting older and may not want to hear about popping pimples.”
I blink. I almost feel like crying. “Right,” I say. “I’ll think about that too.”
I make my escape from the coffee shop as Harper takes a phone call. I find myself nearly running up Park Avenue. I’m losing my breath and I force myself to slow down. I just want to get home and lock myself in my apartment and…make a video. That’s what I planned for this afternoon but now I’m all worked up.
I get to 71st Street, but I stop. If I go the other direction, I can stop at Ladurée. A dozen Marie Antoinette macarons would be perfect right now.
Soon I’m at home with my beautiful carton of sweet treats. I set it carefully on the counter and get rid of my outerwear. I could just take the whole box into my living room, but even though I’m agitated, I pause and take a few pictures. Because they’re gorgeous. Then I set a few on a plate, make myself a coffee, and settle onto my couch.
I grab my phone. I need to talk this out. So I call Josh.
We texted last night after the game. He played so great! I was practically exploding with pride. Then I had a weird sense of—how is it that I actually know this guy? That we actually fucked in my bed last night? Holy crap! It’s like I feel when people ask for my autograph, or when millions of people watch my videos—is this for real?
I guess it is!
He answers. “Hey, Sara.”
“Hey. How are you?”
“I’m okay. My ribs are kind of sore, but otherwise good.”
“From that hit last night? Jesus, that scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m fine.”
“It didn’t look like it at the time! And then that asshole came after you and wanted to fight? What the hell was that?”
“He had to do it. I hit one of his teammates. We have to stand up for one another.”
“That’s crazy. No wait, that’s kind of nice. But I don’t want to see you fight.”
“I don’t fight very often.” I hear the smile in his voice. “But I can’t make any promises.”
“Yeesh.”
“How are you doing?”
“Ah. Crappy.” I pout. “I just had a meeting with Harper and I feel…I don’t know. Pissed.”
“Why?”
I tell him about the things she said, about wanting me to change my image. My brand. “Because I’m getting older,” I say bitterly. “My fans are getting older. Except I’m not sure that’s true. I mean, some of them are. The ones who’ve been with me since I started. But I know I get new fans all the time, younger girls…” I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. She’s the expert.”
“You’re the expert on you,” he says.
I relax a little. I got wound up, recounting my conversation with Harper. “I guess I am.”
“The thing people love about you is you’re real,” he says. “You need to stay real.”
“So you don’t think I need to change?”
“Hey, I’m not giving you advice. I know nothing. I’m just saying, you need to be yourself. Sure, the things that interest you, that you want to talk about, will change as you get older. You’ll start talking about wrinkle creams instead of acne cures.”
I laugh.
“But I think you should do that when you want to do that.”
“There are lots of other vloggers out there doing what I do.” I sigh. “I was unusual and unique at first. Now, not so much. Maybe I do need to change things up.”
“You’ll always be unique.”
“Aw. Thank you. I mean…is that good?”
“Yeah. That’s good.”
I smile.
“You told me…way back when we first met, about a year ago—”
I laugh. But he’s right. It does feel like I’ve known him a long time.
“That you’re giving people something by just being yourself.”
I slouch lower into the couch. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“I forget exactly what you said…you’re giving them the message it’s okay to be themselves, to not be perfect.”
I nod, nibbling my bottom lip. “Yes. Yes.” I sigh. “Thank you for reminding me of that. I got all rattled. Sometimes I need to just chill and think things through. Thank you for helping me.”
“Hey, anytime.”
“You may regret saying that. I tend to lose my shit a lot.”
He laughs softly.
“So what about your move?” I ask. “When does your stuff arrive?”
“Wednesday. I’ve talked to the building manager and they’re going to let them into the apartment.”
“You won’t be there, though.”
“I know. It sucks, but I don’t want to wait until next week.”
“Want me to go over there and supervise?”
Silence beats against my ear for a few seconds. “Would you do that?” he finally asks.
“Sure. I have stuff to do, but I can take my laptop and do it there. If you have Wi-Fi.”
“Yeah, that’s already set up. That would be great, but I hate to inconvenience you.”
“It’s fine. I offered to help, and I can see how hard it is with your schedule.”
“Okay. I’ll tell the guy that you’ll be there. I’ll text you the address and what time they’re supposed to arrive.”
“How was your meeting with your new coach?” I should have asked him that first, instead of whining about my problems.
“It was…good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“No. I mean, not really. He was pretty positive. He says it’s his job to find a way to get us to buy into a system we can play that will help build our confidence. He says we have the skills to do it. We have games where we’re really dominant, and then sometimes we lose that. He talked about his plans. He asked what motivates me and what my goals are, and he made me feel like I’m valuable to the team.”
I smile. His coach sounds like someone who can read people and knew that Josh liked to know what was going to happen. “Of course you’re valuable to the team.”
After I finish talking to him, it’s time for a video chat with Kaylee. I have big news to share with her!
After a bit of chitchat, I say, “So. I have news.”
“What?” She leans closer to her camera.
“I have been deflowered.”
She frowns.
“I no longer have my V-card.”
Her eyes widen.
“My cherry has been popped.”
“I hate that expression!”
“Yeah, me too.” I make a face.
“Oh my God! When? Who? What happened? Tell me everything!”
So I tell her. Not everything.
“Now I most definitely need to meet him.”
“You will this weekend! I hope.”
Hmm. I forgot that I offered to help Josh move on Sunday. But when I check with Kaylee about her plans, she’ll need to leave for the train station around noon, so I’ll be free after that to help.
Then I tell her about my meeting
with Harper and how I got upset and how Josh talked me around.
“He sounds like a keeper.”
I freeze. “Oh. Um.” Yikes. “That’s not…we’re not…Jesus, Kaylee! I’m not going to marry him.”
She laughs. “I’m not saying that!”
“Okay, let’s talk about plans for the weekend. Josh got us tickets for the game Saturday night.”
“Oh, that’s great! I got tickets to Moulin Rouge.”
“Fantastic! I want to see that. I’ll make dinner reservations.”
We blab on for about an hour then end the call. “I can’t wait to see you!” I tell her.
“Same!”
Okay. I feel a hell of a lot better than I did earlier, now that I’ve talked to my bestie and my…Josh.
Kaylee’s comment about Josh being a keeper threw me. Because I’ve never really had a long-term relationship and I’m not sure I know how. I’m still not sure anyone would want to have a long-term relationship with me. That’s not what this is about. I like Josh and we have fun together, and yes, maybe we’re learning some things from each other. Like, wow, I’m learning how to ride the flagpole!
This makes me laugh out loud.
Shaking my head, I boot up my computer to get to work.
Chapter 16
Josh
The four of us arrive at Langmore Children’s Hospital just after lunch on Tuesday. We’re greeted by a nurse who asks which floor we want to go to, four or five. I know we’re pairing off, so I glance at JBo and shrug. “Four?”
He nods, and we all step into an elevator. JBo and I get off with the nurse, and Murph and Axe stay in to go to five.
I keep rubbing my clammy hands on my jeans. Just the smell of this place brings back memories, and the way the elevators are so big…big enough for beds…freaks me out. I’m trying to take slow, deep breaths, reminding myself that I survived that night in the ER with Sara. I don’t want the other guys to know I’m flipping out.
I swallow a few times as we walk onto the floor. There are a lot of colorful decorations and pictures, but it’s still a fucking hospital.
The nurse takes us into the first room, which is a double room shared by two boys. JBo walks toward one bed, and I move to the other, forcing a smile.
The boy’s face lights up, his eyes popping wide, his mouth becoming an O. He’s wearing a Bears ball cap. “Josh Heller!”
“Yeah.” My lips feel stiff. “That’s me. What’s your name?”
“Carter. I can’t believe you’re here!”
Whoa. I did not expect this.
Carter picks up a shirt lying on his bed…a small Bears jersey. And Jesus Christ, it has my name and number on it. He holds it up, shaking it as if to get my attention.
I can’t help but smile. “Hey. That’s my jersey. How’d you get that so fast? I only got traded here, like, a month ago.”
“I know! My parents got it for me right away, because I love your whole family and when I found out you were traded here I couldn’t believe how lucky we were!”
My heart is thudding in my chest. I glance at the nurse, who’s still hovering in the doorway, and she’s smiling.
“I brought this today to see if someone would take it to get it signed by you, but I never thought you’d be here!” Carter clutches the shirt.
“Well, I can sign that for you right now.” I whip my Sharpie out of my jeans pocket. I came prepared. I’m a little worried my hand might be shaking too much to sign my own goddamn name, but I manage it, signing right on the number, where Carter says he wants it.
“How old are you, Carter?”
“I’m nine. I have cancer. Osteosarcoma.” He sets his hand on his left knee.
Jesus. My throat squeezes up. I’ve only ever known one person who had osteosarcoma, and I didn’t really know him, he died before I was even born, but he was famous—Terry Fox. And he eventually died from it.
If this kid is dying…I can’t fucking handle it.
Be a warrior.
“That sucks,” I manage to say.
“Yeah, it does.” He makes a face. “Can we talk about hockey? And your family?”
“You bet.”
He knows my dad and all my uncles, where they played, what they’re doing now. He knows my cousins playing in Boston, Erik and Cam, and Brody playing in Laval. He asks me questions about them and about the move to New York.
After a few minutes, JBo gets up to move to another room. We’re supposed to see as many kids as we can, but I don’t have the heart to leave Carter when he’s talking about my family. So I gesture to JBo to go on, and I stay.
I find myself saying to Carter, “I spent a long time in the hospital too. I was a little older than you are, though.”
“I know,” he says matter-of-factly. “After the bus crash. I don’t remember it; it happened when I was a baby. But I read about it.” He purses his lips. “I had a tumor in my left leg. And you broke your left leg.”
“That’s right. I broke a few other things too.”
“I’m having chemo.”
“Yeah?” I swallow past the puck in my throat.
“Yeah. I had it before my surgery and now after. That’s why my hair fell out.” He waves at his head. I wondered if the ball cap was hiding his hair loss. “Sometimes my muscles hurt, and I had an infection, so I didn’t get to go home.”
“When you do go home, it’ll feel so good.”
I talk more about my time in the hospital. I never talk about that. I feel like it’s something that connects Carter and me, and we talk for a long time. Eventually JBo comes back and moves up behind me to say in my ear, “Time to go, Hellsy.”
“Damn. Oops. Better watch my language.”
Carter laughs.
“I have to go, my man.” I stand from the visitor’s chair I pulled up earlier. “Can I come see you again sometime?”
“That would be awesome!”
We do a fist bump and I follow JBo out. In the elevator, I’m lost in thought.
“That kid’s a big fan of yours?” JBo asks.
“Apparently.” I give a crooked smile. “He’s a fan of my whole family. Glad I got to see him.”
I can’t stop thinking about Carter all the way back to the hotel. In my room, I pull out my phone. Yesterday, Sara called me because she was down after her meeting with her publicist. Well, now it’s my turn.
Except I’m not down. I’m weirdly calm. I’m…reflective. Thinking about Carter, and my injuries, and how he’s coping with something far worse. And handling it way better.
I call Sara.
“Hey,” she says. “I was just having dirty thoughts about you.”
Every thought leaves my mind and my mouth dries up. I cough. “Oh.”
She laughs softly. “What’s up?”
“I, uh, forget.” I rub my face, thinking about naked Sara. Now I don’t just want to talk to her. I want to see her. “Are you busy?”
“Not if it involves you and me naked.” She infuses sexy innuendo into her voice, and I smile.
“Dinner?” Jesus. What is up with that? I don’t spontaneously issue invitations that I haven’t carefully planned out.
“Damn.” I can tell she’s teasing me. “I guess I could do that.”
My chest heats up just from hearing her voice. “I’ll come get you.”
“We can meet somewhere. Aren’t you supposed to be packing?”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck and survey the hotel room. “I don’t have that much here, though.”
“I could come there and help, and we could order room service, and then have hot hotel sex.”
I bark out a laugh. “We could do that,” I agree.
“I’ll be there soon. What’s your room number?”
I give it to her and end the call. Then
I dig out the room service menu.
Chapter 17
Sara
I’m surprised by the unexpected invitation. This is not like Josh. I hope he’s okay.
I don’t want to waste time getting ready to see Josh when I could be with Josh, so I spend ten minutes fixing my hair and makeup and changing from leggings and a stretched-out sweater into jeans and a black turtleneck. Good thing I visited my wax salon yesterday and I’m all silky smooth.
About forty minutes later, after a subway ride and a short walk, I knock on his hotel room door. He opens it, looking big and buff and a little forlorn. “Hey.”
“Hi. What’s wrong?”
He blinks. “Wrong?”
“You invited me for dinner on the spur of the moment. I was so worried something happened. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He leans over and kisses my forehead—so sweet!—then steps aside for me to enter. “I just wanted to talk to you. To see you.”
“Whew.” I pull off my scarf and slip out of my jacket. “Okay, why?”
He takes them and hangs them in the closet near the door. “I had an…interesting day. Want a drink?” He gestures at the minibar.
“I do, but I have such a hard time paying the prices for the minibar stuff.” I stroll over and peruse the selection.
“Jesus. Don’t worry about that. Have what you want. Or if you don’t mind waiting, we can order a bottle of wine or something.”
“Fine, I’ll have something while we wait.” I pick a small bottle of wine and Josh cracks open a beer.
We sit on the love seat, shifting sideways to face each other.
“I went to the hospital today,” he says.
My eyes pop wide and my heart lurches. “I knew something was wrong! Are you okay? What happened?”
He waves a hand. “No, no. I went to visit sick kids. Part of the hockey deal.”
I blow out a breath. “Oh. Okay.” My eyebrows pull together. “What does that have to do with hockey?”
“We try to give back to the community. We’re all involved in some kind of cause. In Dallas, I worked with a foundation connected to the team.”
You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey) Page 13