Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Present Day
Ash
Even in his anger, Eli is quiet. The door to his bedroom closes with a soft thud and I’m left staring at the kitchen counter. I try to put the conversation out of my mind and instead focus on mixing together a quick marinade for the chicken.
I get my headphones and listen to a playlist I found that helps me focus. The glass mixing bowls are in a bottom cabinet next to the stove and I pull them out, measuring the ingredients—lemon juice, olive oil, Italian seasoning, paprika, salt, and pepper—before mixing them together. I carefully butterfly the chicken and throw it in the marinade too. I move my head around in time with the lo-fi beats as I prepare a side salad and slice up a few strawberries.
I text Robbie and Olivia a few pictures and thank them for the recipe. The response is immediate as Olivia’s face lights up my screen with a video call. I swipe to answer and take the call outside so I don’t bother Eli.
“Hey,” I say with a smile.
“Hey Ash, how was the first day of camp?” Olivia asks with a big smile on her face.
“Well, mom, camp was fine, although I did shove a kid into a locker. Does that make me a bully?” I joke.
Olivia’s smile fades and she gets a concerned look on her face. “Ash, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Some asshole was talking shit about me not going out to drink anymore and wouldn’t let it go. I had to make some empty threats to let him drop it.”
“Please be careful, Ash,” she says.
“I know,” I sigh. “I won’t do anything stupid, you and Robbie need to stop worrying.”
“We’re not worried about you doing something stupid, man, we just want what’s best for you,” Robbie says, popping into the frame and pulling Olivia into his chest.
“I know, I love you guys.”
Robbie rolls his eyes, but smiles and Olivia says, “We love you too.” She hesitates for a moment, but then asks, “How is Eli doing?”
My eyes dart to the side, towards the window of his bedroom. What is he doing right now? Is he still angry?
I swallow and say, “He’s fine. The airline lost his luggage in Chicago so he had to buy some stuff from Meijer. We drove to practice together, then went to the store before coming back. Now I’m getting started on dinner.”
“Is he joining you for dinner? Have you talked at all?” she prods.
I sigh. “I don’t know if he’ll join. He was kind of mad at me earlier,” I say, thinking about how angry he looked. Did I mess this up beyond repair? “We haven’t talked about Finland yet, but I tried bringing it up.”
“But you will, right?” Robbie asks in a hard tone.
“I’ll try,” I relent and he nods in understanding.
“Well, if you need us, we’re a phone call away,” Olivia says, giving me a soft smile.
“Tell him I say hello,” Robbie says and I nod, eager to change the subject.
“How’s it going with the Blue Line Brigade?” I ask.
“Really good, we’ve had a few events already and met some of the kids that signed up. They won’t get to start training until October, so we’re finalizing things now, getting them fitted for gear and stuff.” Robbie could talk for days about his non-profit and it makes me happy that he found something to love just as much as playing hockey.
“That sounds awesome. Let me know if I can help in any way.”
“I will, thanks. Olive and I need to get ready for a fund-raiser, so we’ll catch you later?”
“Yeah, have a good time. Miss you guys.”
“Miss you too. See you soon,” Olivia says with a wave goodbye before ending the call.
I don’t know what I would do without the support of my best friends. I sit outside for another moment, pondering everything good that I have in my life—a job I love, friends that I adore—and, Eli. I hope he still wants to be in my life.
When I’m done contemplating, I grab the food from inside the cabin and get the grill started.
Eli
The conversation from the car is still on my mind. Maybe I shouldn’t have lost my shit on Ash, but it pisses me off when he puts himself down like that. I genuinely wanted to talk about what happened in Finland, but after the way I reacted, I feel like I shut down any conversation between us.
I get an email from the airline that my luggage was found in Chicago and is being shipped to me in Traverse City. Sounds like I’ll be without it for a couple more days, but at least I got some essentials from the store. A few pairs of shorts, some athletic, some more decent for going out, some T-shirts, and toiletries.
I’ve stubbornly closed myself in my bedroom, a combination of modern and rustic style, with a queen size bed taking up most of the room. All my belongings are tucked away in the small dresser. I grab the book I bought while at the store and sit in the rocking chair by the window, hoping to relax and let go of the lingering anger before going out there and facing Ash again.
Even sitting down, the window gives me a perfect view of the back of the house—the fire pit where Robbie would have bonfires for us every year at training camp, where he and Jordan would give Ash advice and talk excitedly about the new season and how we were going to crush it.
I miss that the most. Our tight knit group of friends. All of which are scattered now.
Maybe it’s time to open up to new things, new friendships, and move on. I’ve never been a fan of change, and taking this step seems impossible. But I promised myself I would work on my issues and face my fears head on this season.
My pocket buzzes and I take it out way too fast, hoping for a text from one of my friends. Instead, it’s a message from Juuse.
Great job today at training. I watched some of your drills from the gym, you’re improving a lot!
Thanks, I’m ready to give it my all this season.
I’m sure you will ;)
If you have any advice for me, it’s greatly appreciated.
Of course. We’ll chat more at breakfast.
There’s at least one friend I can make while I’m at training camp.
When I look up from my phone, I see Ash outside, fussing with the grill. He’s added charcoal to it and got it started, and has moved to the pop-up prep table to work on the vegetables. It looks like he has some marinated chicken already in a bowl, and I’m still shocked that he’s taken up cooking, of all things.
With his back to me, I take the opportunity to savor the sight of him. He looks good.
Better than good. He looks fit. His shoulders are broad and the white cotton T-shirt he has on stretches across them, accentuating his muscles. His tattoos peek out and I swallow hard. I move my eyes down and notice a new one on the back of his calf. Unlike his last tattoo that was in color, this one is all black and about the size of a puck.
When I realize what the tattoo is, I stop breathing and my eyes burn with the threat of tears.
Ash’s tattoo is of a sailboat.