by Lili Valente
Now if we can hold onto our lead for another forty seconds, this game is ours.
The D.C. Dicks call a time out, and we skate up to the boards, getting our end of game strategy from Coach before heading back to center ice. The dicks win the face off, and their goalie slinks off to the bench while an extra attacker jumps over the boards.
D.C. dumps the puck into the corner and gives chase, but Adams anticipates the play and snatches the rubber out from under them. Jus and I streak to center ice, giving Adams two options for the pass. Jus is the chosen one, and Adams pushes the puck up the boards. It slams into the tape on Justin’s stick and then we’re off, gunning for the unprotected goal, where, after Jus passes the puck my way, I take great pleasure in slamming it home.
A roar of satisfied bloodlust fills the arena because our fans know now it’s only a matter of running out the clock.
I’ve scored the game-securing goal, but I don’t give a fuck. I am still a cranky bastard who wants nothing more than to smear spitty, sweaty ice into Nowicki’s smug face.
But I force myself to wait until the post-game chaos and showers are complete and Nowicki is headed for the exit before I call his name.
“Tanner, come see me for a second.” I pat the cushion beside me as I lean back on the old leather couch where Chloe likes to sit and color when she’s allowed to hang out in the locker room with me.
I haven’t seen her in six days, either. She’s having a blast at my mom and dad’s, but the house is so quiet without her. Quiet and empty, making me long for the chaos of six a.m. wake up calls and the hustle of getting lunches made and both of us out the door to get her to school on time. Loneliness is contributing to my foul mood, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take it easy on Nowicki. He needs to get a clue about when it’s okay to fuck with someone and when it’s not.
“Hey, what’s up?” Nowicki sags onto the couch beside me, running a hand over his shower-damp hair.
“Don’t pull shit like that with me again,” I say calmly. “Especially not during a game. I don’t have the time or patience for games aside from the one I’m getting paid to play out there on the ice.”
Nowicki frowns as his head bobs up and down. “Okay… So, I’m supposed to take it, but I can’t dish it out? Is that what you’re saying? Because, I mean, yes, I’m a rookie, but I’ve played on enough teams to know no one is supposed to be above this shit. Pranks are the great equalizer. Doesn’t matter if you’re a rookie, a vet, team captain, or the fucking coach. You still pull your feet out from under the table for shoe check, right?”
“I’ve been a Badger for nearly a decade,” I say, fighting not to lose my temper. “I’ve paid my dues. I get to be done with the adolescent bullshit.”
“But you gave Justin the mannequin idea. I know you did. I haven’t told anyone but you that I have a phobia about those fucking things.”
I nod. “Yeah, I did. It’s tradition to do something epic for the rookies, once it becomes clear that they’ve got what it takes to stick around. It’s a rite of passage, not an act of war or anything personal.”
“Yeah, well, it felt personal,” he mumbles, jaw working as his gaze falls to the floor. “But at least someone thinks I’ve got what it takes to stick around. I’m not sure Coach is on board, but…”
Fighting back a sigh—why do attitude adjustments always become counseling sessions with this kid—I clap him on the shoulder. “That’s the way Swindle does business. Believe me, if he wasn’t happy with your performance, you wouldn’t be seeing the ice time you’re seeing. Everything’s fine. Just keep your head down, skate hard, and keep your hands off my water bottle, and you’re going to be fine.”
He grunts, his lips quirking as he glances my way. “Thanks. And sorry about the soaking. It won’t happen again. At least, not because of me.”
“Good.” I start to stand, but before I can make my escape, Tanner decides to take male-bonding time to the next level.
“And so you know, I think you and Laura can make it work.”
I scowl, mood souring again as I bark, “Did Justin say something to you? What did he fucking say?”
Nowicki lifts his hands in surrender. “Nothing. He didn’t say anything. I know you and Laura have been dating, and then the past few practices you’ve been acting like a cactus crawled up your ass. I put two and two together, that’s all. And seriously, I’m not trying to be an asshole. I just thought you could use some encouragement.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“My mom was a single parent,” he says, clearly determined to get on my bad side and stay there. “She dated a lot of assholes before she met my stepdad. The assholes didn’t care about taking things slow because they didn’t care about her kids getting their feelings hurt when they decided to bail. But she and Mark dated for almost two years before he popped the question. He knew he wasn’t just marrying Mom, he was joining a family already in progress, and he wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to fuck it up.”
I stretch my head to one side, but the knot in my neck remains. “I thought about that. Thought about it a little too late, but…”
“It’s not too late.” He claps me on the back in such an obvious imitation of my own bro-comforting style I can’t help but be flattered. “She’s seriously into you. And you’re seriously into her. You’ll work it out. Trust me. I have a good track record with this kind of thing. My gut never lies.”
Some of the tension seeps from my muscles as a plan begins to take shape. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. And you’ve given me an idea, actually, a way I might be able to put her mind at ease about the stepparent stuff.”
“Good. So, does this mean I’m off the shit list?”
I smile as I stand, slinging my bag strap over my shoulder. “For now. But just a heads-up—don’t even think about starting something with Justin. He would absolutely take it as an act of war, and when it comes to pranks, he’s out of his goddamned mind. Once he starts, he won’t stop until he’s got you in tears, begging for mercy.”
Nowicki’s brows lift as he stands, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes me think he might have to learn his lesson about Justin the hard way. “Yeah, well, it might be too late to take that particular advice, Captain, but thanks, anyway.”
Before I can ask him what he’s done, a string of curses erupts behind me from the general direction of Justin’s locker, and Nowicki grins.
“Biofreeze in his boxer briefs,” he whispers, backing toward the door. “Would love to stay and film this, but I’ve got a date tomorrow, and she likes my face without bruises on it.”
Nowicki flees the locker room as Justin makes a dash back to the showers, his cursing interspersed with vows to seek swift and merciless vengeance against whoever fucked with his shit. Knowing Jus is capable of figuring out Tanner is responsible for the prank and plotting his revenge without any help from me, I head for home and my laptop.
Over the next two hours, I write more in a single sitting than I have since college, when I would stay up all night powering out a paper I’d left to the last minute because I was always too tired after practice to stay focused on history or sociology.
But tonight the words flow and flow. I’m possessed with the need to get everything down while the way forward seems clear.
There is a way forward for Laura and me. I believe that.
I have to believe it, because nothing feels right without her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
From the texts of Chloe Daniels and Laura Collins
Laura: Hey Chloe! I miss you! How’s it going?
Are you having fun at your grandma and grandpa’s house?
*
Chloe: So much fun!
They have brand new kittens and two rabbits and a bunch of chickens I get to feed every morning. And Grandpa lets me build the fire in the fireplace all by myself!!! But don’t tell Dad. He thinks I like fire too much.
*
Laura: Is there such a thing as liking fire too much?
*
Chloe: NO! Fire is AWESOME!
*
Laura: LOL. It is awesome.
But it can also be scary, so be careful.
And don’t play with matches.
And don’t try to start the fire without your grandpa around.
You know, on second thought, let’s forget I agreed that fire was awesome and just remember that it’s dangerous and burns can be very, very painful, so you should keep a safe distance and handle it with care.
*
Chloe: You’re starting to sound like Dad again…
*
Laura: Sorry. I can’t help it. I love you, and I don’t want you to get hurt.
*
Chloe: I love you, too, and I’m not going to get hurt.
Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.
*
Laura: smiley face Well, good. At least that makes one of us.
*
Chloe: You want to get on Skype so I can show you the kittens?!
They’re so cute!!!! And I got to name them, even though Grandpa says the people who take them home might change their names. But I don’t think they will because my names are so good. I named them Chewy, Chubby, Mr. Clawsome, and Chicken. Because how funny is it to have a cat named chicken?!!!
*
Laura: Very funny. Those are amazing names!
And I do want to see the kittens, but I’m going to have to take a rain check right now. I’m in the middle of planning something kind of urgent, and I need some feedback from you. Do you have time to give me the scoop on a few things about your dad?
*
Chloe: Of course!
*
Laura: Do you know if he’s afraid of heights?
*
Chloe: No, he’s not.
*
Laura: What about cockroaches?
*
Chloe: No. He’s a lot bigger than a cockroach.
*
Laura: Good point. What about flying? Is he afraid of flying?
*
Chloe: No, he flies all the time, silly!!
*
Laura: What about germs?
*
Chloe: I don’t think so.
*
Laura: Thunder?
*
Chloe: LOL. No!
*
Laura: Clowns?
*
Chloe: Hmm…
I don’t know.
Clowns are scary…
*
Laura: They really are.
*
Chloe: If a clown snuck up on me from behind, I would punch it in the nose.
*
Laura: Me, too.
*
Chloe: Really?!
*
Laura: Absolutely. If it didn’t want to get punched in the nose, then it shouldn’t be sneaking up behind people.
*
Chloe: Or be dressed like a clown.
*
Laura: You make many good points, Chloe.
Thank you for all your help, and have a wonderful rest of your trip.
Oh, and Happy New Year!
*
Chloe: Happy New Year! See you when I get home, Laura. I miss you!
*
Laura: I miss you too, babes. Sending lots of hugs your way.
*
Chloe: xxxxoooooo!!!
Chapter Twenty-Four
Laura
Hoping the cockroaches, clowns, germs, and fear of flying are enough false leads to throw Chloe—and Brendan, if she shares our texts with him—off the scent, I book the tickets I need and send Brendan my first message since we agreed to take a week to think things over. Meet me at this address tomorrow? Two o’clock? And wear warm, comfortable clothes in case we decide to take a walk outside?
I type in the details and only have to wait a few seconds before he texts back. Be there with bells on. Looking forward to seeing you. I’ve missed you this week…
Taking a deep breath, I text back: Missed you, too.
My thumbs hover above the screen as I debate the wisdom of saying anything else. I could say that I can’t wait until tomorrow, but that wouldn’t be completely true. Yes, I’m dying to see him again—our second week apart has been even more torturous than the first—but I’m also scared out of my fucking mind, and I don’t want to lie to him.
So I decide against saying more and slip my phone back into my purse.
I hit the gym, lift weights until I’m dripping sweat and my muscles have turned to hot, aching, gelatinous ooze, and then indulge in a long sauna, hoping the combination of sweat and exhaustion will be enough to knock me out at a reasonable hour. But back at home, I lie in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, my fevered, fearful brain comes up with approximately three hundred excellent excuses to convince the Crooked Creek Bridge Company to refund my one-hundred-dollar deposit.
But I don’t get out of bed or write an email, and come morning, I don’t pick up the phone. This plan might be crazy, but it’s my plan, and it should vividly demonstrate how far I’m willing to go to change.
Assuming I don’t die.
Dying would probably make changing fairly difficult…
“It’s perfectly safe,” I tell my reflection as I plait my hair into a French braid, the better to keep it out of my face while the wind is whipping past my ears and I’m trying not to faint.
I dress in the same clothes I wore to go skiing with Brendan and Chloe, and then immediately strip and go with purple ski pants and a heavy silver sweater, instead. I can’t decide if the first outfit is lucky—Chloe and I both survived, after all—or unlucky—we were scared to death, and I injured my knee so seriously I’ve had to take it easy on cardio at the gym for over a month—so I decide it’s best not to take any chances. I kill an hour returning emails and tidying up my desktop and then another hour de-junking my junk drawer, which has somehow managed to get disgusting again even though I only moved into my new place two months ago, and then it’s time to go.
The drive to our rendezvous point—a sports bar on the other side of the highway from the Crooked Creek Bridge Company—seems to take an eternity and yet no time at all. Every second that passes is another second that I’m still alive, but it’s also a second closer to the moment when I will step to the edge of insanity and take the plunge.
By the time I reach my turnoff, I’m sweating, my throat is so tight it feels like I’ve swallowed a dinosaur egg, and I can safely say I’ve never been so terrified in my entire life.
But I’m excited, too. Because I’m about to see Brendan again. God, I’ve missed him. So insanely much. It’s like the week I tried to give up caffeine, times one hundred and combined with a nasty case of sugar and orgasm deprivation.
I arrive ten minutes before two to find Brendan already waiting outside the sports bar, looking even more irresistible than I remember in black ski pants and a bulky blue pullover that emphasizes his broad shoulders. He’s wearing reflective glasses that complete the Winter Sex God vibe, but he slides them off as I step out of the car, revealing hopeful, but cautious, blue eyes.
Those killer blue eyes that take my breath away…
A group of women emerging from the nail salon on the other side of the strip mall get one look at him and stop dead, jaws dropping, before they burst into hushed, giggle-riddled conversation.
He is that stunning, the kind of man who inspires giggling in grown women, and all I have to do is overcome a few of my biggest fears, and he could be mine. Forever. Until death does us part.
Which could be fifty or sixty lovely years…
Or a
bout fifteen minutes.
It’s not too late to call this off, you know. Just head inside the bar and have a beer. Brendan will never know you had something crazy planned.
But I’ll know. I’ll know I didn’t have the guts to stick to my guns, and it will haunt me every day of this fresh start.
No, there’s no turning back now. Onward, soldier. Onward to the brink!
Pulling my slinky black stretch pants from my purse, I take a deep breath and step up onto the curb beside Brendan, knowing if I delay long enough to kiss him hello and tell him how much I’ve missed him, I might still lose my nerve.
I hold up the stretch pants, letting them dangle between two fingers. “This is the best I could do for a blindfold. You trust me?”
His eyes narrow, but after only a beat he smiles and nods, just once. “Of course I do.” He takes the stretch pants and ties them behind his head, tucking the waistband up until only his eyes are covered.
I take his hand, warmth surging up my arm, giddy to be touching him even in this simple, innocent way. “We need to get back in the car,” I say, giving his broad palm a squeeze. “But only for a few minutes. Our destination is close.”
“All right.” He lets me lead him back to my Subaru, where I help him squeeze into the passenger’s side without banging his head before hurrying around to the driver’s seat.