For the Win

by Kelly Jamieson

  “That’s true.” I purse my lips. “But I can’t tell him now. He’s out of town, and when he gets back…” I pause. “Unless they lose these two games in Vancouver. Then they’ll be out of the playoffs. Shit.” I slump against the counter. “But if they’re still in the playoffs, I don’t want to distract him. He hasn’t even read my text.”

  Taj grimaces. “I’m sure he’s just trying to focus.”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I thought of that.”

  We make dinner then watch the game together. I’ve been so distracted by what happened that I forgot to be nervous about the game.

  “They need to win this game,” I tell Taj, who already knows this. I wriggle around on the couch waiting for the opening puck drop.

  “You need a glass of wine.”

  “Okay.” Not going to argue with that.

  Taj fetches us each a glass of Merlot from the kitchen. I settle in cross-legged with a cushion on my lap.

  Taj used to go to hockey games with me in college but hasn’t watched much since then, like me. But we basically know what’s going on, groaning when the Condors take a penalty, sitting on the edge of the couch when there’s a scrap behind the Condors’ net, throwing our hands in the air when they score.

  “Yes!”

  Harrison assisted on that goal by Eddie Rintala. Whoop!

  It’s not a pretty game, with lots of skirmishes and quite a few penalties. My insides are knotted. The Condors are coming out hard, but I hope they aren’t going too hard and risking the game with their physical play. They have to feel the pressure of this third game.

  They come through with a win, though, the score four–three.

  I throw myself back into the couch cushions and blow out a long breath. “Whew!”

  “Pulled that one out of their asses,” Taj says colorfully. “Wasn’t sure they were gonna do it.”

  “I know! Now we have hope again.”

  “They play again in Vancouver, right?”

  “Yeah.” I catch my bottom lip between my teeth. I wish Harrison wasn’t so far away after I screwed up.

  We watch some of the post-game coverage, interviews with players I know, like Jimmy and Bergie and Eddie. I’m proud when they replay the first goal, and one of the TV guys talks about how well Harrison has been playing for the Condors since being called up.

  Then Taj changes to the Disasters at Sea episode he’s recorded.

  I give my phone a long look. I refill my wine glass. I try to watch Disasters at Sea.

  I don’t hear from Harrison that night. I don’t hear from him Sunday, or Monday, the day of their next game.

  I do hear from Everly.

  She texts me an invitation to come to her place to watch the game with her friend Lacey, who I’ve learned is Théo Wynn’s girlfriend.

  I don’t know if I want to go. I know Harrison’s angry and/or hurt. I talked to Taj about it, but I don’t think I want to tell Harrison’s sister how I screwed up. Except, she knows why I freaked out.

  The fact that I haven’t heard from Harrison (although the text message now shows that he’s seen it…) makes me feel sick.

  Of course, he is busy. And that’s an understatement. I have no idea what it’s like to be in his shoes, with that much pressure. I should just go to Everly’s and cheer him on, and we’ll figure things out later.

  Taj is out with Ziggy so I can use his car. I drive to the address Everly gave me. It’s a beautiful complex of townhomes.

  She gives me a big smile and a hug when she opens the door. “Hi! Come in.”

  “Hi. I brought wine.” I hold up the bottle for her.

  “Perfect! Come and sit. You know Lacey.”

  I smile. “Hi! Nice to see you again.”

  “You too!” She pats the cushion next to her on the sectional.

  “Would you like red or white?” Everly asks, heading toward her kitchen.

  “White, please.”

  The TV is on, although the game hasn’t started.

  “Do you get nervous watching?” I ask Lacey, sitting.

  “Oh my God, yes!” She bounces a bit. “I’m a wreck! I’m scared as a rabbit in a fox hole.”

  I hear Everly snort from the kitchen and I smile, relaxing a little for the first time since Harrison left my place.

  Everly hands me a glass of wine in a big, beautiful glass with a delicate stem. I swallow a giant gulp.

  “I haven’t met Théo,” I say. “You have to point him out to me.”

  “I guess he doesn’t come to your yoga classes.” Lacey wrinkles her nose. “He should do that. I’ll point him out if they put him on camera, but he watches the game from the visitor’s GM box.”

  “It’s a playoff game. I’m sure they’ll go to him a few times,” Everly says, making herself comfy in a big armchair with her own glass of wine. “Dad’s there too.”

  “How’s he doing?” I ask.

  She sighs. “Well, okay, I guess. But he’s definitely changing.” She presses her fingers to her mouth for a moment.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  Everly grimaces. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. It’s just hard.”

  “I’m sure it is. I could tell that day at his birthday party. I’m so sorry.”

  Everly flashes a grateful glance. “Thanks. It would be nice for him to see the Condors do well. Who knows if he’ll even realize what’s going on this time next year.”

  That’s so depressing. My chest aches with sympathy for her and her family. Including Harrison. In fact, I ache for him the most. “I hope they win, then.”

  It’s not that I’m that much of a Condors fan. And I do care about Bob Wynn, although I hardly know him. What I really care about is…Harrison.

  I want him to win. I want him to be happy. I want him to succeed and for all his dreams to come true.

  Wow, we haven’t even known each other that long and I’m all invested in his life. What does this mean? Have I fallen for this guy?

  That’s a really stupid question. Of course I’ve fallen for this guy.

  Hard. I finally got brave and took a risk with a man, a man I’m now sure is a good man, and then because of my stupid hang-ups, I freaked out and pushed him away.

  A bunch of TV guys are talking about the game, and there is an exchange about the incredible chemistry between Harrison, Pavel, and Edvin, which makes me sit up straight and pay attention, my smile as big as a blimp.

  “How important is chemistry for a line, Don?” one dude asks the other.

  “Well, Tim, chemistry is hard to define. Often it’s because the players are familiar with each other. But these three have only been playing together a short time, so that’s not it. I tend to think it’s the type of players that are put together that makes the difference. They all have a great work ethic and good defensive responsibility, but when you combine Wynn’s ability to set up scoring chances with Rintala’s incredible shot and how Volkov gets in on the puck and sets the forecheck, they’re a wicked combination.”

  I meet Everly’s eyes and she’s beaming as much as I am. We both laugh.

  I love it that she’s proud of her brother.

  Oh God.

  It’s fun watching the game with these two. Lacey’s extremely vocal and animated, with a lot of cheering and swearing. A lot of swearing. It makes me laugh. Everly is more controlled, but she knows more about hockey, seeing things that Lacey and I don’t. She seems to know when a player is going to score before the puck even goes in the net. I’m jealous. I need to learn more.

  “Oh my God, cross-checking,” she says in despair, falling back into her chair. “Archie, you idiot.”

  I didn’t even see that, but we have a penalty.

  “It’s okay,” she mutters. “Our PK is really good.”

  “
Uh…what?”

  “Penalty kill.”

  I nod. That, I get.

  To our delight, the Condors score a goal! Shorthanded! We’re up by one now.

  Sadly, before the penalty is killed, the Canucks tie it up.

  We all curse. Even Everly.

  It’s a back-and-forth game, but in the end, the Condors lose. By only one goal, but that doesn’t matter.

  Lacey, Everly, and I all look at each other glumly.

  “Damn.” Everly holds up her empty wine glass. “Who else wants a refill?”

  “I better not. I have to drive home.” I make a face.

  “I’ll have one,” Lacey says. She looks at me. “I’m staying here tonight, since Théo’s away. You should have too.”

  “Yeah, we should have planned a sleepover.” Everly unfolds her legs and stands. “Be right back. Arya, you want some pop or water?”

  “That’s okay. I should go.”

  It’s bizarre how sad I am about this loss. I know I’m feeling it for Harrison.

  When Everly returns, we all exchange hugs. “Thank you so much for inviting me. It was way more fun watching with you than alone.”

  “Of course it is.” Lacey grins. “But you can watch with us any time. If they win their next game here, there’ll be another in Vancouver. Are you coming to the home game on Wednesday?”

  “I…I’m not sure.” I nibble my lip. I don’t know what’s going on with me and Harrison.

  We’re not doing team yoga right now, because their schedule is so intense with all the travel. So I don’t know what will happen when he comes back tomorrow.

  I know Everly and Lacey watch the game from the owner’s box, so even if I went, I wouldn’t see them.

  “Well, we’ll text,” Everly says.

  I drive home. I need to think.

  I’m falling in love with Harrison, and right now, this is not a good thing. I am such an idiot.

  Stop.

  I know better than to call myself names like “idiot.” I’d never say that to someone else, so I shouldn’t say it to myself. I do have hang-ups, but they’re real and they’re justified. I’ve been so much better lately, although I know I may never totally get over what happened to me. But I’m living and I’m doing my best, every day.

  At home, I walk into my bedroom and sink down to the floor in Lotus Position, hands on my knees. I inhale a long breath.

  I breathe in courage and breathe out doubt.

  I’ve got this.

  I just need to figure out what to do about it.

  Harrison comes home tomorrow. Well, late tonight; Lacey said they’d be flying home right after the game. But he’ll go home and go to bed.

  I need to apologize to him. I need to explain to him. Not excuse my behavior, but I want him to understand why I reacted the way I did. He may be angry at me and I wouldn’t blame him if he is. And if he can’t get past that or accept my, um, shortcomings, I’ll deal with it. Somehow.

  I try to breathe out my doubts, but it’s hard because I really don’t know if trying to contact Harrison tomorrow is the right thing or the wrong thing to do. I don’t want to disturb him during such an important time, which would make it easy for me to put it off. But he deserves to know how sorry I am. It’s probably best to get it out there and then move on.

  I text him in the morning. Do you think we could talk? I’d really like to explain what happened. But if it’s not a good time I understand.

  Taj drops me off at Prana today for my eleven o’clock class.

  When that’s done, I check my phone in the teacher’s lounge, and I have a voicemail. Shit! I missed Harrison’s call. He sounds quiet and serious in the brief message. I hit his number to call him back, but dammit, I get his voicemail. I too leave a message. “We’re playing phone tag, sorry.” I briefly outline my schedule for the day then glumly end the call.

  I eat a salad in the teachers’ lounge, scrolling through social media. My attention span is short, so I’m barely paying attention to what I’m reading, skimming through new posts and pictures of cute dogs.

  Then my phone rings. Harrison’s name appears on the screen.

  My heart leaps and I stab at the phone to answer. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He pauses.

  “Sorry I missed your call,” I say, even though I said that in my voicemail. “Um, do you have a few minutes to talk? Or maybe we could meet up. I know you’re probably busy.”

  “Yeah, we can meet up. You’re done at six?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll pick you up there.”

  I can hardly breathe. “Okay.” I swallow. “See you then.”

  Whoa. Okay. I did it. He’s going to see me. I have no idea what’s going to happen, since he said next to nothing. My belly’s all fluttery and it takes all my focus to get through my afternoon classes.

  He’s waiting in the loading zone when I walk out of Prana a few minutes after six, carrying my yoga bag, still dressed in leggings, tank top, and a long, loose sweater. My feet pause when I see him sitting in his SUV. My heart kicks against my ribs, then I start forward again, crossing the sidewalk. As I reach for the door, he looks up.

  His expression doesn’t change. His usual smile is absent, but his eyes flicker. A big purplish bruise marks one cheekbone. Sympathy pain twinges in my belly, seeing that.

  I slide in and close the door. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  As I buckle up, he puts the vehicle in gear and pulls out onto the street.

  “Where to?” he asks.

  “Um, we could just go to my place.”

  He nods.

  “Thanks for making time for me,” I say, my voice tentative.

  He makes a harsh noise, his jaw tight, staring straight ahead.

  “Sorry about the loss last night,” I add. “I watched the game over at Everly’s place.”

  He goes very still. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. We were all cheering for you. Lacey was there too.”

  “Thanks. It sucks.”

  I suck on my bottom lip and nod. Words bounce around in my head, but I say nothing until we get to my place. I unlock the door and lead him into the living room. I’ve gone over what I need to say a million times, but still, my palms are sweaty and my mouth dry.

  I gesture to the couch and he sits. I sit too, tucking a leg up under me so I can face him. “Um, you got my text the other day?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “I really am sorry I overreacted.”

  “I guess it was a bad idea to arrive unannounced. I apologize too.” His words sound stiff.

  “It wasn’t that bad.” I pick up a cushion and pluck at it. “And I wanted to explain to you why I freaked out over nothing.”

  He nods. Our eyes meet and heat flames over my skin, my insides quivering.

  “For one thing, I get a little nervous when I’m home alone at night. I didn’t expect someone to come to the door.”

  “Understandable.”

  “But when I saw it was you…I shouldn’t have freaked out more. But I did.” I sigh. “I have to tell you a story.”

  “Uh…okay.” His lips firm and his eyes narrow as if he anticipates this isn’t going to be good.

  “A few years ago, I went on a date with a guy I met on a dating app.”

  His body immediately tenses. For a moment, neither of speaks, then he grits out, “Go on.”

  “His name was Lucas. He seemed nice—very charming. Handsome. In hindsight, I had little…hints that I should have paid more attention to. He came on really strong, telling me how beautiful and perfect I was, but I thought he just really liked me. I agreed to see him again, because why not? He was fun.”

  Harrison grunts.

  “Before we even went out again, he dropped by my apart
ment. Just to say hi. I thought it was weird, and my roommate Leah just laughed it off and said, ‘Wow, he’s really into you.’ I had this uneasy feeling about it, because that seemed odd, but it was sort of flattering that he liked me that much.”

  “Christ.” He scrubs both hands over his face.

  I take a deep breath and continue. “After our second date, I knew I didn’t want to see him again. He came on too strong, and just…made me feel uncomfortable. So I told him that. He…didn’t take it well.”

  Harrison closes his eyes, his mouth a thin, tight line.

  “He knew my name and phone number and address. He kept phoning me and texting me. Showing up at my apartment unannounced. The first time I wasn’t there. He scared the hell out of Leah, and she understood why I was creeped out. Next time he came back, I was there—luckily, so was Leah. We got him to leave. But he kept doing it.”

  My voice has started shaking with the memories of that time.

  “He got weirder and more aggressive, and the things he said started scaring me. He thought we were…” I pause. “Meant to be together.”

  After several beats of thick silence, Harrison says, “Fuck.”

  I bite my lip.

  “I am so sorry,” he growls. “Jesus, Arya.”

  “It’s okay. You had no idea.”

  “I’m an idiot.” He swallows. “Go on.”

  “He was following me places…he’d show up at West Acres—the shopping mall—if I was there, or if I was having dinner with friends at TGI Friday’s he’d walk in. It was freaking me out. I kept telling him to go away. At first I tried to be nice—stupid me! Then I got blunter. And he got creepier.” My voice hitches. “He started getting threatening. He texted me asking what I’d do if I was attacked. Would I scream? Fight back?”

  “Fuck me.” Harrison reaches out for me, drags me against him, and presses my face to his chest. “Fuck. Me.”

  I nod against him, still shaking both with memories and with the relief of being in Harrison’s arms again, feeling safe enough to tell him the rest. “I reported it to the police. They didn’t seem all that worried. Then he slashed the tires on my car.” Harrison makes a harsh noise in his throat and his arms tighten. “I reported that too. They didn’t do anything. He kept threatening me. I was so scared…all the time. Scared to go to work, scared to go home, scared to be home alone. I didn’t know how this was ever going to end. Then one night I was going to the gym after work, and he followed me…grabbed me and dragged me into a park. He had a knife.”