Chapter 39 No Bigger than a Poker Chip
No Bigger than a Poker Chip
Eric
But after three hours, it’s just ice. And I’m tired.
The official team training camp is part bonding experience, part fitness test. The roster has been winnowed once already, and now the coaches are focusing on compatibility—who plays well with whom.
It’s a time to start thinking about maximizing performance, setting goals, dreaming big about the season ahead.
Right now, all I’m dreaming about is a shower and a nap.
“Heads up, Captain!” Weber calls, sending the puck my way during a passing drill. I trap it cleanly, pivot, and prepare to fire it back when I spot movement in my peripheral vision.
Darcy.
She’s walking into the rink looking breezy and professional in a gray skirt and heels, notebook in hand like always. Her red hair catches the arena lights as she scans the bench, probably looking for her boss.
She doesn’t even glance my way.
The puck gets stripped from my stick before I realize what’s happening. Calder, the rookie from development camp, celebrates like he just won the Stanley Cup.
“Holy shit!” he whoops, raising his stick. “I totally just deked the captain!”
“Don’t gloat, kid,” DeLuca calls from the net, pulling off his mask. “Looks like Cap’s got something on his mind.”
Dahlberg skates by, shaking his head. “Reminds me of last season when Merritt was all broken up over the skating coach. Same energy.”
“I’m not broken,” I protest, maybe a little too quickly. “I’m just…
bent a little.”
Calder attempts to look wise beyond his nineteen years. “Yo, Cap, that’s lowkey giving big sad energy. You need to touch grass about whatever’s got you pressed. That’s not very sigma of you.”
I stare at him. “Are you speaking English?”
DeLuca snorts. “There was some wisdom in there. I’m pretty sure. Touch grass, old man.”
The whistle blows for a water break, and I skate to the boards, my legs feeling heavier than they should.
This camp is only five days, and I usually love it.
But this year is different. Instead of feeling that new season energy, I feel kind of hollow.
Even the noise of the rink—the scrape of skates on ice, the thunk of pucks hitting sticks and boards—usually centers me.
But today it’s just a soundtrack to the restlessness chewing at my insides.
I feel disconnected from everything. Like I’m sleepwalking through the motions of being the captain, being the leader everyone expects me to be.
At first, I thought it was just a temporary glitch. My focus was off in Colorado. I made some gains, but I had trouble concentrating. Then I came back to New York, and things only got worse.
The real problem is how much I miss Darcy. Not just the way she felt in my arms or the taste of her skin, though Christ knows I think about that more than I should.
But I really miss having someone to share the small moments with—like pointing out that Calder just used five different pieces of slang in one sentence or wondering aloud why the ice always smells different at Lake Placid.
Or—and here’s a wild idea—I miss someone in my life who didn’t only talk about hockey. I miss her thoughts on miniature food and how she made me laugh about my own neuroses.
For several precious days, I felt like I was part of something bigger than the careful performance of being Eric Tremaine. Now I’m back to being a population of one, and it’s lonelier than I remembered.
The whistle blows again, and I skate back to center ice and prepare for the face-off. But not before scanning the rink one more time for a flash of ginger hair.
But she’s gone.
On the last night at camp, I’m sprawled on my narrow dorm bed while Merritt and Zoe watch some rom-com on his laptop. They’re curled up together on his twin mattress, her head on his shoulder, sharing a bag of trail mix and whispering commentary about the movie.
“He’s totally going to mess this up,” Zoe murmurs, pointing at the screen.
“Nah, he’s got this,” Chase argues. “Look at his face. He knows what he wants.”
I am the world’s most pathetic third wheel.
Broody isn’t my style, though, so I leave them to their movie and head outside to the fire pit that sits between our two dorms. Weber is there, pacing back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear.
“I know, I know.” His voice is tight with frustration. “But it’s only been five days… No, I’m not ignoring you. Of course I miss you, too…”
He catches sight of me and gives me a helpless look, like he’s drowning and I’m the lifeguard. “She thinks I don’t care because I haven’t called enough,” he whispers, covering the phone. “But I called yesterday! And the day before that! What the hell am I supposed to say?”
It’s the same girlfriend troubles he’s been having since I’ve known him. The same cycle of drama and reconciliation that never seems to end.
“If you want my advice,” I tell him, “you can always come to office hours.” Then I turn my back on him.
DeLuca gives me a slow clap from an Adirondack chair, and I sit down next to him. “That office hours thing is straight-up brilliant.”
“Yeah, it is,” I agree. “He’s willing to whine at me now because I’m here. But he won’t take time out of his busy week to do it.”
“Glad you figured that out.”
“Oh, I didn’t. It was Darcy’s idea. Last week I only had two customers at office hours—a guy who wanted me to look at his lease, and a guy who wanted to ask which nutritionists I like. Mostly, I just put my feet up on the desk and ate mini donuts while watching game film.”
“I didn’t get any mini donuts,” DeLuca says, pouting.
“I bought them for somebody else.”
His eyebrows go up. “I have a feeling I know who.”
“Doesn’t make you a genius.”
He tilts his head back and looks at the dark sky. “I noticed she’s not spending any more time around your sorry ass, though.”
“I noticed that, too.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling the familiar tension knot there.
“She says it’s too messy, working together.
That if we break up, my multimillion-dollar contract and I aren’t going anywhere, and she really needs this job.
That’s all true, and I can’t change it. But it feels like we’re missing out on something huge. ”
“The sex is that good, huh?”
“I don’t bang and tell.” I give him a warning look. “But good sex isn’t that hard to find. This is different.”
DeLuca studies me. “Well, did you tell her that?”
“I told her I really like her.”
“Did you say it like: ‘Hey, I really like you, there’s nobody else like you, and I haven’t felt this way since maybe not ever, and if you could give me a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes’? Or did you just say, ‘I really like you,’ and leave it hanging there like a wet towel?”
I wince. “Um. I definitely didn’t say that first thing. I’ve never said that in my life.”
He shakes his head. “She’s awfully smart, right? So she probably also noticed you don’t really date. You hook up with models and actresses and then peel them off before they get too clingy. So what does Darcy think you want her to sign up for?”
Oof. “Am I really that bad?”
“I’m not judging, E-Train. But you gotta look at it from her perspective. Tell me this—did you ask her out on a date? Like an actual date with dinner and conversation and maybe flowers?”
“Well, no. We’d had a weekend fling, and I only pressed her to upgrade it to a summer fling. I asked her to come over for dinner, and she said, ‘For Marnie’s cooking, right?’ And I said of course. And then she turned me down.”
DeLuca winces like he’s watching a car accident. “So, do I have this right? You have vague feelings of connection with Darcy that you did not articulate. Then you invited her over for takeout from your personal chef and a hookup. And then you were surprised when she said no.”
Ugh. “They’re not vague, though.” I run my hands through my hair. “I think we could be great together. I’m just not used to this kind of thing.”
“So try again. Say it louder. Say it better.”
“It’ll probably just come out sounding like drivel the second time, and then she’ll remind me that we work together and it’s messy, and I haven’t managed to solve that problem. I probably never will.”
DeLuca shakes his head. “You know what your problem is? You’re treating this like a game where you already know you’re going to lose. You’re playing defense instead of offense.”
“I’m not playing at all,” I remind him. “I was cut from the team.”
He groans. “I don’t understand you. You just spent five days defending the top spot on one of the greatest teams in hockey, Tremaine. You’re a beast, and you’re fucking fearless. But when it comes to winning over a woman who already likes you, it’s suddenly hopeless?”
“She’s not just any woman.”
“Obviously, but…” DeLuca waves his hand toward the dormitory building. “What are you going to say to all the rookies crying into their water bottles tomorrow after Coach cuts the roster in half?”
“Not to give up,” I say immediately. “To try again.”
“Exactly!”
I glance around the fire pit. “Where are the rookies, anyway? It’s much too quiet out here.”
DeLuca leans back in his chair. “I dunno. Honestly, I was enjoying the silence.”
As captain, though, I can’t take that attitude. “Excuse me a minute. I’m gonna go make sure nobody is setting the place on fire.”
“Godspeed.”
It takes me a minute, but I find the rookies in the dormitory kitchen.
They’ve picked the lock on the door, and they’re eating chocolate chips straight out of a bag like animals.
Calder’s got chocolate smeared on his chin, and another kid is trying to see how many chips he can balance on his tongue.
“Captain!” one of them crows. “We’re gonna have a chocolate-eating contest. You can referee.”
“No! No contests,” I bark. “Because one of you will hurl, and I’ll feel obligated to clean up after you.”
“But these are mini chocolate chips,” one of them says. “They go down easy.”
I pick up one of the bags and inspect it. “Mini chips… Does anybody know how to make chocolate chip cookies?”
“Yo, Cap,” Calder says. “My mom taught me when I was little. The recipe is legit right on the bag. It’s actually fire.”
I snap my fingers. “Excellent. You can help me make a batch of mini cookies with mini chips. I want ’em no bigger than a half dollar.”
“A half dollar?” another rookie asks. “Who’d rip a dollar in half? That’s why I pay for everything on my phone.”
I sigh. “Fine—no bigger than a poker chip.”
“But why?” Calder asks.
“Because miniature food tastes better,” I snap. “I don’t make the rules. Calder? List off those ingredients. The rest of you are going to find them in this kitchen.”
Calder flops his hair out of his face. “On it, Cap.”
An hour later, we have three pans of miniature golden cookies. I arrange a couple dozen of the best specimens on a paper plate, leaving the rookies to finish polishing the kitchen to a high shine.
Then I go looking for Darcy. I know exactly which first-floor room belongs to her and Zoe, anyway. I’ve spent our entire time upstate noticing her, even when I’m supposed to be thinking about other things.
And even if I didn’t know, I could probably have figured it out by just pacing past her door. I mean—it’s possible that one of our players is a Taylor Swift fan. I wouldn’t judge. But as I knock, I hear “August” playing behind the door.
“Zoe?” she says, and I think I hear footsteps.
“Nope,” I say, hoping she’ll still open the door.
She does. But only a crack. I can only see one of her blue-green eyes, and it’s confused. “Hi. You need something?”
Yes. Yes, I do. “I brought you some cookies.”
The door widens slightly, and her glance falls to the plate in my hand. “Oh, wow. Those are so cute. Did Marnie make them?”
I sigh. “Not quite. I made them myself, but the rookies had to help. I’m not competent at, like, literally everything like you are.”
She blinks. “Can I eat one?”
I push the plate at her. “These are all for you. Can I come in?”
“Well…” She gives me a wary look. “That’s not a great idea.”
“Then come for a walk with me.” My heart is suddenly beating out of my chest. “I just want to talk.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
The look she gives me says that it is hard to believe. So that’s something to work on, I guess. “Come on.” I hold out a hand.
“Let me get my shoes,” she says quietly.
I wait in the doorway, because I know she doesn’t want people to get the wrong idea about us. I’ve never been anyone’s dirty secret before.
And I really can’t recommend it.