I’m disappointed I can’t see her one more time. Technically, I’m no longer a patient here, and I wanted us to see each other for the first time as a man and a woman rather than a patient and his therapist.
It wasn’t meant to be, though. I take a box from the duffel bag I’m carrying and slide it onto her desk, then tear a page from a notebook in my bag and set it on top.
I’m slow to leave, taking time to memorize her neat bookshelves and slightly cluttered desk. The coffee mug that says ‘More Cowbell,’ the stack of notebooks in different sizes, and the cream-colored cardigan that’s always hanging on the back of her desk chair.
I take one last look at the couch I’ve sat on so many times, and the chair she listened to me from. I fell in love with Graysen over the past five weeks, both here and in our group sessions, but this room will always be ours in my mind.
This is where it all started. And as I walk out for the last time, emotional about leaving her, I hope to hell it’s not where it’s ending, too.
19
Graysen
The past week has felt like an eternity.
It’s been seven days since Alexei left Beckett, and I miss him more every day. Today was Intake Day for a new session, and I felt his absence more profoundly than ever as I looked around the faces of my new group and didn’t see him.
I’m tired now, eating Chinese carryout on my couch with a blanket wrapped around me so I don’t get food on Alexei’s hoodie.
He left it for me in a box on my desk, and I cried when I opened it. It’s a blue Austin Comets hoodie that he wore at least once a week at Beckett. It still smells like him, and I’ve put it on after work every evening.
After I opened the box with the hoodie that day, I read the note he left me and cried a fresh round of tears. It’s sitting on my nightstand right now, and I read it several times a day.
Dear Graysen,
I want you in my life. I’ll wait nine months or nine years if I have to. And I know you’re asking yourself right now what waiting means to me. It means no other women. You’re the one I want. I hope you won’t see other men until we can be together, but if you do, make sure you tell them you’re only single until Sept. 14 of next year.
Until then, here’s my favorite hoodie and my cell number. Call me anytime for any reason, day or night.
Alexei
I’ve scanned my eyes over those digits so many times, they’re committed to memory. I want to call him badly, but every time I’m about to, I stop myself. Alexei needs space right now, and I do, too.
All my life, I’ve sworn to myself I’d never fall for an addict or alcoholic, recovering or not. Every time my dad came home drunk and beat up my mom or destroyed things in our house, I crawled under my covers and shook with fear, vowing that I’d never live like that again once I had a choice.
I tell people every day that they can start fresh and not let drugs or alcohol control their lives. But letting someone vulnerable to addiction into my heart is a much scarier prospect. My heart has scars from addiction that will never fully heal.
“Hockey again?” Amelia groans and sits down next to me on the couch.
“Yep.”
“He’s definitely hot. I googled him.”
I feign disinterest. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She laughs and picks up the container of beef lo mein from the coffee table. “It’s the worst kept secret ever, okay? You’ve been moping around the house in a Comets hoodie since he left and you’re watching the Blaze every time a game is on. There’s only one NHL player who recently finished rehab at Beckett, and it’s Alexei Petrov.”
“Will you pass me an eggroll?”
“Graysen.”
“Amelia.”
She huffs out a sigh and passes the waxy bag full of eggrolls. “What’s the deal? Are you ever gonna see him again?”
I shrug.
“This is bullshit.” She chews a bite of lo mein before continuing. “We tell each other everything. I’ve given you a week to mope and cry into your ice cream, so now it’s time to spill.”
“There’s not much to say. He’s gone.”
“Yeah, but that’s a good thing, isn’t it? You guys can date now.”
I glare at her. “You know patients are supposed to avoid relationships for nine months to a year after treatment.”
“Oh shit. You’re actually doing that?”
“Yeah?” I furrow my brow. “You think the guidelines are just for the patients I don’t want to jump in bed with?”
She snorts. “Have you seen him shirtless, though? And those tats? You should get a month off for every tat.”
I bite the end off an eggroll. “If he wants to come find me in nine months, he can. But women throw their panties at hockey players, literally, so I’m not holding my breath.”
“And that’s why you bought a Comets hoodie and you’re learning about hockey when you had no interest before?”
“Give my lo mein back,” I say with an edge.
“If he’s smart, he’ll be finding you in nine months.”
I sigh softly, hoping she’s right. She snuggles a little closer to me.
“Wanna watch Debbie Downer SNL reruns since you’re in a shit mood?”
“Yeah.” I turn my face toward her. “I didn’t buy this, though. It’s his hoodie.”
“What!” She shouts, her whole expression lighting up. “His? He gave you his hoodie?”
“Yeah, we’re basically two high schoolers.”
“I think it’s cute. I’d fucking die if a guy like him gave me his hoodie. Hell, I’d take a sock…a used bath towel—anything.”
“How’s Paul?”
“Still good.” She smiles. “I don’t have any of his hoodies, but I did wear some of his old scrubs the other night, and that was hot.”
She grabs the remote and asks, “Do we want to start with Debbie at Thanksgiving?”
“Yep, always.”
We watch every Debbie Downer skit followed by our favorite movie, Bridesmaids. By then, Amelia is half asleep.
“I have to go take a shower,” she says, yawning.
I go into my bedroom and get my phone, lying down as I look at the screen. I programmed Alexei’s number into my phone in case I ever lose his note. Every night I look at his number and think about texting him. I chicken out every time, though.
Instead, I get under the covers and think about his “dream.” I’ve never in my life had sex like that. Honestly, I thought that kind of sex wasn’t even real. But just hearing him describe what he wanted to do with me—to me—made me hot and bothered all over.
“I didn’t just lick her pussy—I worshipped every inch of it.”
I’ve had sex, but usually, I’m the one who makes sure I get off. My past partners have jabbed, poked, and groaned for days and still not gotten me off. I felt like I needed to put a glowing neon arrow sign above my clit to clue them in. And even then, I probably would’ve had to provide detailed instruction about what to actually do.
Alexei knows, though. It’s obvious from the way he can turn me on with just his words. I don’t like that he’s been with lots of women, but I’m guessing he’s got some top-notch ninja sex skills.
I hope to find out someday, if he’s still interested. But for now, all I have is the fantasy of him.
Well, that and a trusty vibrator with eight speed settings. I pull open my bedside drawer and take it out. It’s not much of a substitute for Alexei Petrov, but for now, it’s all I’ve got.
20
Alexei
“Jonah, you doucher,” Knox growls as he stalks toward our goalie. “You think this shit’s funny?”
He holds up a fistful of pink lingerie and several players in the hotel lounge snicker.
“That’s definitely your color, bro,” Victor says. “You gonna wear that under your gear?”
“Fuck off,” Knox snaps at him. “I know it was either you or Jonah who switched every fucking piece of clothing
in my luggage out for this shit. What am I supposed to wear?”
Jonah grins. “I recommend the one-piece with garter belts.”
I hold in my laugh. I haven’t been here long, and I can’t afford to get on our enforcer’s bad side. I’m sitting next to Victor, and he and Jonah do a low fist bump to celebrate their prank.
“You’re not gonna be laughing when I let Molleck beat your ass tonight,” Knox says. “I’ll be standing off to the side holding his gloves while he cleans your clock.”
“The rest of us will loan you some clothes,” Anton says, trying to keep the peace. “And buy a fuckin’ lock for your suitcase.”
“I can’t wear your size medium briefs,” Knox grumbles.
Anton looks up from his phone. “Really? You’re gonna insult my manhood?”
“I’m just sayin’ that I wear extra large is all.”
Our head coach comes over to hand out room keys. I’m rooming with Easy, a second line winger I may be playing next to at some point. I’m on my second road trip with the team after putting in a month of training and rehab work every day.
Technically, I could play, but I’m not off the injured list yet. I should be getting cleared soon, though, and I can hardly wait.
I’ve been training at an ice rink five days a week, doing drills and just skating. It was so damn good to feel my blades glide over the ice again, but it’s not the same as playing hockey. I’m ready to be back in the game.
Easy and I take our bags up to our room, and as soon as we walk in, I take off my suit jacket and hang it over the back of a chair. I had to bust my ass extra hard to shrink my waist back down to the right size for all my suits. Too many doughnuts at Beckett.
While I sit down and browse the news on my phone, Easy goes over to the mini bar and grabs a bunch of bottles. I hear him take them into the bathroom and dump each one into the sink. It’s a nice gesture, especially since I’m pretty sure the team’s admin people will make the two of us pay for the charge to the room.
I want to tell him it’s okay, that I haven’t really been tempted to drink. I’m almost at one hundred days sober, and I thrive on seeing that number grow bigger every day.
But I don’t say anything, because it’s a good feeling that my new teammates support me. Anton, Luca and Victor asked me out for dinner during the first road trip, and they went out of their way to find a place that doesn’t serve alcohol.
“You feel like getting a bite to eat before we have to be at the rink?” Easy asks me.
I never get tired of his French accent. It’s cool as hell.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
I get up to grab my suit jacket and my phone buzzes in my pocket with a text. It’s from a number I don’t recognize, but the message makes my pulse pound.
Hi Alexei, it’s Graysen. How are you?
“Oh shit,” I say, breaking out in a grin.
“What?” Easy asks.
“I just got a text from someone I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from again.”
“And it’s a good thing?”
“It’s very good.” I look up from the screen. “Can I take a raincheck on lunch?”
“Sure. You want me to bring something back for you?”
“No, I’ll be okay, thanks.”
I sit down on the end of one of the beds and type out a response.
Me: Better now. I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from you.
Graysen: I wanted to reach out sooner, but I thought I should give you some time.
Me: How are you? God I’ve missed you.
Graysen: Pretty good. Mostly just working. I saw on ESPN that you’re back with the team, that’s great!
Me: Yeah, it feels good to be back. You been checking up on me?
Graysen: Maybe…
Me: Good. Hey, I’m almost at 100 days sober.
Graysen: I’m so proud of you, Alexei. The first month after rehab can be really hard for some people.
Me: I’ve got my eye on the ball.
Graysen: Meaning…? I’m not good with sports analogies.
Me: I’m a better man sober. Happier. I don’t want to lose that.
Graysen: That’s fantastic.
Me: Have you thought about me at all?
Graysen: Of course.
Me: Any dirty thoughts?
Graysen: ALL dirty thoughts.
Me: Sorry, can’t type now, orgasming…
Graysen: Lol. Okay, some dirty thoughts.
Me: I was starting to think I’d never hear from you, and I just want to make sure you know I’m still all in. I miss you like crazy.
Graysen: I miss you too.
Me: One month down, eight to go…
Graysen: How do you like your new team?
Me: Everyone’s great. I feel at home already.
Graysen: How are things with you and Anton?
Me: They’re good. He’s a moody bastard right now to everyone because he and Mia are waiting to hear when their birth mom’s in labor. He’s glued to his phone.
Graysen: I bet. It’s a very exciting time for them.
Me: Hey, tell me how you are.
Graysen: I’m good.
Me: What’s going on with you? I get to ask you questions now, too, it’s not just you asking me anymore.
Graysen: I’m almost at the end of my current session. It’s gone really well. 3 of the 4 in my group are graduating.
Me: Have you heard from Melinda or Joe?
Graysen: Melinda emailed me last week. She’s doing really well. She and her husband are going to do some traveling, and then she’s going to start speaking about her experience.
Me: Wow, good for her.
Graysen: It’s really good to see her living life again. I haven’t heard from Joe, have you?
Me: Yep, we text most days. He’s doing pretty good, busy with his kids.
Graysen: My best friend and I are going to see a taping of SNL next month. I’m excited, we’re huge SNL fans.
Me: That’s great, hope you guys have a blast. Be careful, though, NYC can be crazy.
Graysen: We will. We have a work conference there so we decided to take a couple days extra to do some fun stuff.
Me: Send me some pix of you there, k?
Graysen: I will.
Me: You got the hoodie?
Graysen: Yes and I love it. Thank you.
Me: Do I get one of your cardigans when I see you?
Graysen: Ha, if you want? I have a nice purple one that would suit you.
Me: Perfect.
Graysen: Am I keeping you from anything?
Me: Not at all. We have to go to the arena later. I’m not off the injured list yet, so I can’t play, but I’ll be able to soon.
Graysen: That’s amazing! Already?!
Me: I’ve been busting my ass. I’m ready.
Graysen: Good for you. I’ll be watching.
Me: You can come watch at the Carson Center if you want. Anytime. I’ll get you seats.
Graysen: I’d better just watch from home.
Me: For now.
Graysen: I like your determination.
Me: I like your ass.
Graysen: Wow. Thanks?
Me: It’s a compliment. I like lots of other things, too. Guess I should have started with your mind. I like your mind.
Graysen: I like your shoulders.
Me: Yeah?
Graysen: Yeah.
Me: I’ll put some extra effort into them.
Graysen: No need, they’re already perfect.
Me: I want to take you to dinner.
Graysen: Someday, I hope.
Me: Someday for sure.
Graysen: I better go. My roommate just got home with dinner.
Me: It was great to hear from you.
Graysen: I’m so happy you’re doing well. Keep it up.
Me: Enjoy your dinner.
Graysen: Talk soon?
Me: Can’t wait.
I set the phone down and lie back on the bed, my entire body going sl
ack with relief.
She didn’t forget me. I still have a chance. Just the thought gives me a high I never got from booze. I’m still lying there with a stupid grin on my face a few minutes later when I get another text.
Anton: Birth mom in labor, leaving for airport.
Me: That’s great news, keep me posted.
My brother may be our team captain and first line center, but no hockey game will keep him from being with Mia to see their babies being born. I hope it’s smooth—they deserve that.
I put my suit jacket on and text Easy to ask where he went so I can catch up with him. When I leave the room, I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time.
21
Graysen
Four months later
I have to read the headline a second time to make sure I saw it right.
Unfortunately, I did. Ashton Banks is dead from an overdose. My heart breaks as I remember the troubled rock star breaking down in my office, crying over the addiction that has haunted him for so long.
I read the story, my hand over my mouth, and find out his body gave out on him. His heart couldn’t handle any more. It’s a tragic end to a former patient I was rooting hard for.
Not everyone makes it. I know the statistics. It wasn’t just me, but also my supervisors working with Ashton when he was here because he was dead honest about the fact that even though he wanted to quit using, he didn’t think he could stay clean when he had access to drugs again.
It hurts that he’s gone, but it doesn’t break me the way losing patients has in the past. Since Alexei left, I’ve been talking to my therapist more, working on getting myself into a healthier mindset. She often helps me recognize the different ways my past affects me mentally and the way I’m living my life.
She also told me it was a good idea to make the plans I have for tonight—dinner with Alexei.
He’s been sober for six months now. We text or talk on the phone daily, and when he asked me to celebrate his six-months-sober milestone, I only hesitated for a second before saying yes. Instead of listening to the textbook therapist in me, I went with my heart.
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