Center Ice (Entangled Crush) (Corrigan Falls Raiders)

by Cameron, Cate

  “Nice,” Tyler said. “You want a sixteenth place? You can store it on my computer, if you want.”

  “I think fifteen is probably enough. But…I think it’s time to take it off my phone.”

  He frowned at me. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t think I need it anymore. And every time I see it…” I shrugged. I’d gone to a couple sessions with a therapist, enough to know that I wanted to go to more, and most of what we’d talked about had been the process of grief. She said that for most people there came a time when they could think about a lost loved one and focus on the love and shared happiness of the past, rather than the pain. But she also said it took a long time to get to that stage. “Every time I see it I get sad,” I said. “And when I listen to it, I want to go back in time.” I took a deep breath. “So that’s no good, because I can’t go back in time, so I’m just wishing for something impossible and that makes me sad, too.”

  Tyler kissed my temple then pulled away just a little, keeping our heads close together. “Okay,” he said. “You want help?”

  It wasn’t like it was all that challenging to delete a phone message, but I knew what he meant. “Can you just stay here, like this, while I do it?”

  “You can always put it back on, right?”

  “Yeah, as an audio file. If I need to.”

  So he sat there with me as I called up the message and played it for both of us one more time. Maybe I wouldn’t be seeing my mom in the morning, but I really hoped that I’d see her again sometime, somehow. I hoped I’d be able to introduce her to Tyler. I was sure she’d like him.

  So I cried a little bit, and Tyler kissed my temple again and held me until I felt better. Then I squirmed around and held the phone out to him. “It’s got a recorder,” I said. “I want you to leave me a message. So if I think about playing hers, and it makes me sad, I can play yours, and it’ll make me happy.”

  He looked uncertain. “I have no idea what to say.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just…tell me to watch out for angry squirrels, or something. It’s your voice I want.”

  He still didn’t seem completely confident, but he took the phone from my hands and looked at the screen, then punched the record button. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Karen. It’s Tyler. You may not know it, but I’m captain of the Corrigan Falls Raiders. That’s hockey. H-O-C-K-E-Y.” He grinned at me, and I smiled back. This was exactly what I wanted to listen to before I went to sleep. “Anyway, I’m glad you asked me to record a message for you. I mean, I don’t really like the recording idea, but I’m glad I’m the one you want a message from. Yeah.” He looked at me thoughtfully, as if trying to figure out what to say next. Or maybe as if he had an idea and was trying to figure out if it was a good one. He apparently decided. “I hope this message makes you happy. I hope I make you happy. If I don’t, please kick my ass for me, because I’m probably not screwing up on purpose and I’d really appreciate any help you could give me on being a better boyfriend. That’s… It’s pretty much the most important thing in the world, for me. To be the best boyfriend I can be, and to deserve to be with someone as amazing as you.” Another quick look, then he gripped the phone tighter as if he’d made his final decision but was scared about it. He took a deep breath, then said, “I love you, Karen. A lot.”

  I stared at him. I’d been thinking about the words, but there was no way I’d been brave enough to say them. Now, he was looking at me as if waiting for something bad, which was completely ridiculous and completely Tyler. “Say it again,” I whispered.

  “It’s recorded. You can hear it again whenever you want.”

  “I want you to say it again, right now.”

  He raised his eyebrows doubtfully, then nodded. “Okay. I love you.”

  “With my name,” I demanded.

  He finally grinned. “Seriously? You are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  “Do it!” I grabbed his wrists and even though he could have shoved me across the room without any effort, he let me guide the phone back up to his mouth. “I love you, Karen,” he said as I hovered ominously over him.

  “Once more,” I whispered.

  He nodded slowly. “Karen, I love you.”

  I let my arms collapse and sagged down onto him. “I love you, too,” I whispered.

  He caught my hair in his fist and pulled my face gently away from him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t quite hear that.”

  I forced myself to look him in the eyes. He was just too perfect, too gorgeous, and it felt presumptuous to say the words to him. But I did it anyway. “I love you.”

  “And again,” he said, the smirk beginning to show.

  “Tyler…”

  “Oh, yeah, good point,” he agreed. “Use my name.”

  “And you say I’m a pain in the ass?”

  “Say it,” he urged quietly.

  I closed my eyes, then opened them and looked down at him. “I love you, Tyler.”

  He let go of my hair, then, and guided my lips down to meet his.

  I’d lost my mom, but I had a family of sorts, and a life, and a perfect boyfriend. Things weren’t easy, but I was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be. This was the path we were running on. It wasn’t a treadmill, it wasn’t a carefully groomed track. We were running through the forest, and every root we jumped over, every hill we fought to climb, they all made us stronger. They made us better. Tyler and I were running a rough trail, and we liked it. And we were doing it together.

  Epilogue

  - Tyler -

  Will knocked on his own front door, then pushed it open without waiting for anyone to answer. “Smells good in here,” he called as I trailed inside the house behind him.

  Natalie came out from the general direction of the kitchen. “How’d the meeting go?” she asked us both.

  “Pretty good, I think.” Will and I had debriefed in the car on the way back from meeting the latest in a string of possible agent replacements, so I knew he agreed with me. “He’s got great contacts and references, and, I don’t know—he seemed pretty cool.” The seemed cool part was the only thing that was new; Will had helped me check out the references and everything before we even bothered setting up the meeting. “I think he’s probably my favorite.”

  “Sleep on it,” Will advised. “You’ve got lots of people who want to work with you, so don’t feel like you need to make a fast decision.”

  I nodded. The NHL draft wasn’t until the end of June, and it wasn’t like I needed an agent to help me with the Raiders. And once I had someone I thought I liked, I wanted Karen to meet him before I signed anything. Will was great for the business side of things, but after the crap Brett had pulled on Karen, I wanted to be sure she was okay with anyone I was seriously considering.

  And, now that I was thinking of Karen, I wanted to see her. I tried to lean around Natalie and peek into the kitchen.

  “She’s in the backyard,” Natalie said, and her voice was softer than it had been when we were talking about agents. “I think she’ll be okay, but she needed a little time alone. Holidays are hard, you know?”

  I didn’t know, really. I’d never lost anyone I loved. “So, if she wants to be alone, I should stay in here?” It had already felt a bit awkward having Thanksgiving dinner with Karen’s family, but it was going to feel a hell of a lot weirder if she was out in the backyard the whole time.

  “Oh, no, I think she’d want to see you. Go check, at least. If she still needs some space, come back in and I’ll put you to work.”

  So I said thanks to Will one more time, then headed for the back door. Matt and Sara were in the kitchen, and Sara took a break from whatever she was doing with gourds and pine cones to give me a hug. “She’s being brave,” she whispered in my ear. “But she shouldn’t have to be, right?”

  I wasn’t really sure what she meant. I mean, I understood the part about Karen being brave, and wasn’t surprised to hear it. The second part, though, about how she shouldn’t have to be
?

  Karen was my first real girlfriend, and I’ll be honest—a lot of the time I didn’t really know what I was doing as a boyfriend. And I don’t think Karen had a much better idea of how to be a good girlfriend. I mean, we had the big picture. We knew we loved each other and we had each other’s backs and we really liked spending time together. But the details? Like how to fight fair, or how to handle being jealous or whatever? We were both rookies.

  And Natalie had been a really good coach for both of us. At first she’d just been talking to Karen, which made more sense, but during our first and, so far, only fight, I’d come by the house and Karen had been out for a run, and while I was waiting for her I’d helped Natalie in the garden and she and I had started talking, and everything she’d said made perfect sense. When Karen came back from running, I understood why she’d been upset—turns out girls don’t really like it when their boyfriends come back from a road trip and get their truck washed instead of going straight to their girlfriends’ house. And it’s not because they’re psycho, it’s because they want to feel like a priority. It made sense, once Natalie pointed it out to me.

  So I’d started talking to Natalie more. About my family, and hockey and stuff, not just Karen. Most of the time Karen was there, and sometimes Sara was, too. And Sara was kind of a junior Natalie, with lots of wisdom and good advice, but at the same time, she was a fourteen-year-old kid, and sometimes she didn’t really know what she was talking about. My problem came from telling which was which.

  So that last little bit about how Karen shouldn’t have to be brave? I wasn’t sure if it was wisdom or random. But there was really only one good way to find out, so I kept going, out the back door into the cool fall air.

  Karen was sitting on a wooden bench at the far end of the garden, her back toward the house. At least she was still in the yard, not down at the park or something. That was probably a good sign.

  I shuffled my feet through the dry leaves on the ground when I got close to her, giving her a little warning. “You okay?” I asked.

  She spun around a little too fast. “I’m fine.” For a second, I thought that’s all I was going to get, but then she frowned. Not like she was mad, but like she was trying to order herself to not cry. “It’s stupid.”

  “Probably not,” I said cautiously and took a few more steps forward. “You want to tell me about it?”

  “No, because then you’ll think I’m stupid.” She grinned a little, but it was pretty weak around the edges and didn’t last as long as it should have.

  “I bet I don’t.”

  She gave me a long look. “I got sad because they put beets in their roasted root vegetable medley.”

  Possibly I was going to have a bit of backtracking to do on the not stupid front. “That made you sad?”

  She nodded. “Because my mom and I hate beets. Stupid, right? I mean, they asked if I had any favorite Thanksgiving foods, and I said I loved roasted root vegetables. You know, potatoes and turnips and carrots and parsnips…”

  “But not beets.”

  “And they were so nice!” She was crying a little, now. “They said they’d add the root vegetables to their menu, and then when I came upstairs to help they’d already started, and there were beets in with all the good root vegetables. And it just—” She stopped then brushed her tears away impatiently. “Stupid, right?”

  “No,” I said. It only took me one step to make it the rest of the way to the bench, and I sank down beside her and twined my fingers through hers. “It’s not stupid. Beets are gross.”

  She snorted a little, then tightened her fingers around mine. “It’s not really about the beets.”

  “I know. You miss your mom. I get it.”

  “And I don’t want to—I mean, things are a bit weird already, with Will and Natalie, and Miranda still isn’t crazy about you being around, and they’re all trying so hard to be happy, and I don’t want to wreck it with stupid blubbering about something nobody can do anything to fix.”

  “You can pick them out,” I told her. “That’s the best thing about beets—they’re easy to spot.”

  The snort was closer to a laugh this time. “Oh, okay then. Problem solved.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and squeezed, and she relaxed against me, snaking her arm around my waist, under my jacket. “You’re right. Nobody can do anything to fix the big problem. There’s nothing we can do about your mom being gone.” And then I understood what Sara had meant in the kitchen. “But I don’t think you have to hide from them. I think it’s okay if they know you’re a bit sad. You don’t have to be brave with them, maybe? Because they’re your family now, and family is who you can be a little weak around, if you have to be.”

  Her cheek was wet but warm as she burrowed it in against my neck. “That’s what I have you for.” She pulled away a little and turned her head so she could see me. “Unless you’re getting tired of it?”

  My turn to twist around so I could kiss her forehead. “I’m not tired of it. And if I’m around, I’m happy to be sad with you for a while. No problem. But if I’m not around? I think they’d be okay with it. Really.”

  We sat there quietly for a while. Then she said, “You want me to tell them they’re stupid for putting beets in the root vegetable medley?”

  “I think you could probably leave the beets out of the conversation.”

  “I wish they’d left the beets out of the medley.”

  I kissed her again, this time on the top of her head. “It’s not about the beets, babe.”

  We sat there quietly for a while longer, then Karen groaned and pushed herself away from me. “We should go in.” She brushed at her cheeks with her hands. “Do I look okay?”

  “You look good. But even if you didn’t?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. Even if I didn’t, I could go in. They’re family. I don’t have to be brave.” She frowned at me. “Wait. Who do you not have to be brave around? Besides me?”

  “The team, mostly.” I looked toward the house and shrugged. “But in terms of family? I think I’m kind of stealing yours a bit. That okay?”

  “We can share.” She stood up and held out her hand, and when I took it she tugged me to my feet. “Come on. The beets are going to get cold.”

  So we headed for the house, our hands locked tight together. It was Karen’s first Thanksgiving without her mom, and I didn’t think any of us would expect her to forget that. But I was pretty sure we could remind her that there were some good firsts, too. Her first holiday with her new family, and with me. The first of many.

  “You’re okay?” I asked her as her hand reached for the door handle.

  She paused, turned to me, and gave me a kiss that promised more later. “I’m good,” she said. “You?”

  “I’m good, too.”

  “Okay. Let’s go be good together.”

  And that’s what we did. But neither one of us ate the beets.

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  About the Author

  Cate Cameron grew up in the city but moved to the country in her mid-twenties and isn’t looking back. Most of her writing deals with people living and loving in small towns or right out in the sticks—when there aren’t entertainment options on every corner, other people

  get a lot more interesting!

  She likes to write stories about real people struggling with real issues. YA, NA, or contemporary romance, her books are connected by their emphasis on subtle humor and characters who are trying to do the right thing, even when it would be a lot easier to do something wrong.

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  Sneak peek of book two,

  Playing Defense

  Chapter One

  “Claudia, you should have more extracurriculars,” Mrs. Davidson said firmly. She was the school’s guidance counselor and said almost everything firmly. “Your marks are excellent, and they’ll probably be enough to get you in to most schools. But you want more than ‘probably’, don’t you?”

  I absolutely wanted more than probably, and I wanted more than most schools, too. I was looking for guaranteed acceptance to the engineering program at the University of Waterloo, the best engineering school in the country. That was my goal, and I was very goal oriented. But there had to be some other way to reach it. “Maybe I should look at the list again,” I suggested. I wasn’t athletic, and the school didn’t offer much besides sports, but there had to be something. Something that wasn’t what she was suggesting.

  Mrs. Davidson handed the sheet of paper across her desk again. “We’re a small school,” she said. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to be soothing, apologetic, or just realistic. “There are limited options. Student government is already filled up, and you said you weren’t interested in the environment. So tutoring is a good option for you.”

  Okay, for the record, it’s not like I hate the environment. I’m interested in it. I’m an environmentalist, even. But the club at our school was fairly radical; they were always talking about making a stand and getting arrested in the name of progress and a lot of other things that would not appeal to my dream school. So the Young Environmentalists club was out. “I just don’t think I’d be all that good at tutoring,” I tried.