Chapter 19
NINETEEN
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, stretching my legs out in front of me. My right foot is asleep from this weird angle I’ve been sitting in for the past hour. Reagan’s study spot on the stage in the theater is about the most uncomfortable I can imagine. But she’s here, so I keep coming back.
I should be home packing for our away games, but I couldn’t resist spending a little more time with her.
“Just about. First, I have an idea.” She stands, then takes both my hands and helps me to my feet.
“Oh yeah?” It’s amazing how fast my mind can conjure a dozen dirty images.
“Not that kind of idea.” She shoves at my chest. “Stay here.”
She leaves me on the stage and hops down, and walks toward the last row of seats. There is a podium that I never really noticed before, but within a couple of seconds of stepping to it, Reagan has the lights dimmed and a spotlight on the center of the stage.
I squint to see her. “I can’t see shit now.”
“That’s the idea. But we can see you.”
“We?” I scan the darkened theater.
“Royal we. It’s just me, but use your imagination. It’s the night of your big scholarship banquet, and a room full of doctors are eager to hear your speech.”
Sweat beads on my forehead. “You want me to give my speech here?”
“Why not?”
“I have about a thousand really awesome reasons why not.”
“You said you need to practice.” Her voice sounds closer, but I still can’t see her.
“I know.” And I really do. The banquet is coming up fast, and I’m not prepared. I jump from the stage and instantly feel calmer. Reagan stands in the aisle halfway between me and the podium.
“How about I give you the speech back at my place?”
“You tend to get distracted with all this when we’re at your place.” She makes a circle with one hand, motioning to her boobs.
“It isn’t my room. I’m distracted by them right now.”
She crosses her arms over her chest like that’s gonna help. I still know they’re there, and I can recall them in oh so vivid detail from memory.
“Okay,” I give in.
She grins, lets her arms fall, and my eyes go straight to her rack. I can recall them, but it’s always better to get a good look in person.
“Get back up there, stud.”
I groan, but I walk back to the stage and hop onto it. I shield my eyes again as the light blinds me. “Can you at least turn off the homing beacon?”
“Oh, fine, but for the record, you look damn good in the spotlight.”
In the dark, I can make out her silhouette, but I can’t read her expression.
“I don’t know how you do this. I’m sweating bullets, and I know there’s no one out there but you.”
“I find it much harder to speak to one person versus a crowd of people.”
“I so don’t get that.” I blow out a long breath. My pulse ticks faster.
“You’re stalling, Dr. Scott.”
“Okay, okay.” I pace a few steps, getting my thoughts together.
I don’t hear her walk onto the stage, but the next thing I know, she’s standing in front of me. “Breathe.”
She inhales through her nose and then holds it and lets it out slowly. I feel ridiculous, but I mimic her.
“Why do you want to be a doctor?” she asks and then continues breathing with me.
“When Ginny was little, she got trapped in a pantry closet at our grandparents’ house. She was fine, physically, but she was so upset by the time we found her she was having a hard time breathing.”
“She told me about that,” Reagan says.
“I was young, but not so young that I didn’t realize I couldn’t help her. It was an awful feeling.”
“So, you decided to be a doctor because you couldn’t help Ginny?”
“Well, that’s where it started anyway. Who doesn’t want to play Superman?”
“I don’t, but I’m glad there are people like you who do.”
“I can’t tell them that story, though. Ginny would be horrified. Also, I don’t want to be the guy who gives the downer speech.”
She laughs. “You could focus on the positive. Ginny was found, and she got the help she needed, thanks to a doctor.”
“Still kind of sappy.”
With an eye roll, she says, “Okay, then what do you have planned?”
“I was going to tell them about the time I broke my arm playing hockey. The bone was sticking out, and—”
Reagan squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head. “Okay, never mind. Maybe I don’t want to hear the speech.”
I pull her against me and drop my mouth to hers. “Thank you for this.”
“For what?”
“Helping me.”
“I didn’t do anything, and you still didn’t practice your speech.”
“Do you know that when someone has a panic attack, the best thing you can do for them is stay by their side, talk calmly, and remind them to breathe?”
“You were having a panic attack just now?”
“No, but my point is sometimes helping someone isn’t flashy. Just being here with me, supporting me, pushing me to practice when all I want to do is kiss you until the bus leaves tomorrow afternoon, it helps.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Be my girlfriend.”
She doesn’t answer, but I get an amused smirk.
“I’m serious. I’m better with you. I really like you. This time is…. Fuck, I hate to say it’s different, but it is. And, yeah, it’s because you’re different, which I know you’re going to roll your eyes about, but you make me different, too. I have a good feeling about this.”
I’m sure she’s going to say no. I haven’t exactly made a compelling argument, but instead she says, “Yes.”
“Really?” I scoop her up.
She nods. “Yeah, really. You’re kind of hard to say no to. Kiss me, stud.”
“That’s boyfriend to you.”
“You seem to be in a better mood,” I say the next afternoon on the bus to State. Rhett’s phone is nowhere in sight, and he’s playing on his Nintendo Switch.
“That’s because I talked to Carrie,” he says without taking his eyes off the game.
“You did?” I brace myself for the news they’re back together.
Instead, he says, “She’s coming to the game.”
“She is? But that’s, I don’t know—a fuck long way for her to drive.”
“She’s flying, and it’s as close to neutral ground as we could get considering we have games or practice almost every weekend.”
Rhett and I have been friends for a long time, so I’m quiet for a moment as I collect my words.
As the captain, I want his focus to be solely on hockey.
As his friend, I want him to get the closure he needs.
But I’m also afraid it’s the opposite of closure he’s going to get. “Is this the best idea?”
“It won’t affect my game if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No. Okay, yes, that is a concern. The games this weekend are important. We’re getting down to the final month of the regular season and we need to be our best every single time we step onto the ice, but I’m more worried that talking is going to lead to you two getting back together when that isn’t what you want. ”
His gaze pops up from the video game in his hands to me. He studies my face and then huffs a laugh. “I can’t decide if I should be insulted for myself or Carrie.”
“I’m sorry. I think you can do better. I want better for you.”
We’re quiet for the rest of the ride.
When we get to Arizona State, the team files off the bus, and the Sun Devil’s team manager greets us at the door to take us to our locker room.
As is his pregame routine, Rhett’s dressing and listening to music with Maverick. They have this thing where the two of them share one pair of headphones—each of them getting a single earbud. I don’t get it, but it’s their thing, and I don’t mess with guys’ routines.
“What d’ya say, boys?” I ask as we walk down the tunnel to take the ice for warmups. “What d’ya say?”
They file past me, stepping into the rink.
When I finally take the ice, I breathe in the cool air and relax. I’ve always loved hockey and skating. Especially this moment just before the game starts when everyone is optimistic and ready to do whatever it takes to win. Nothing else matters in this moment. We all have a single focus.
After I’ve stretched, I skate over to Rhett. “I’m sorry about earlier. Whatever you need, man, I’m here.”
He grins. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m gonna need the room later.”
With a pat on the shoulder, he skates past me, and all I can do is laugh.
“If they’re in your room, where are you?” Reagan asks later when I call her.
“I’m hanging out in Heath and Maverick’s room. Can’t you hear them?”
“I thought you were at a bar or something. They’re loud.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Well, you’ll never guess where I am.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“I hope you’re about to tell me you’re here.”
“Sadly, no, but I am in your room.”
“You’re at the apartment? I thought you were doing some sort of road trip with the girls.”
“We did. We drove up to your mom’s house for the weekend.”
My mom’s house. The phrase forms a pit in my stomach. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to them living apart.
“Ah. Ginny’s been saying she wanted to go back.” I know it’s as weird for Ginny as it is for me to be there now that our dad’s moved out, so I’m glad she has her friends with her. “What are you girls going to get up to there?”
“Wine, sappy movies, junk food—the usual.”
“Sexting your boyfriend?” I ask hopefully.
She hums. “Maybe. First, I’m going to snoop around your childhood room and look for dirt.”
“Good luck. Hasn’t been a girl in that room in a long time.”
“It’s pretty boring in here. Not a single picture of an ex in sight.”
I picture her walking around my old room, which leads to picturing her in my bed.
“Probably shoved in a drawer somewhere.”
“I haven’t gotten to the drawers yet,” she says. “Ginny’s yelling for me. I better go. How long will you be up? Can I drunk text you later?”
“You can always drunk text. I’m hoping Carrie will be gone soon, and I can go back to my room, but I’ll be up for a few hours.”
“You don’t think she’ll stay the night?”
“I don’t know. I hope not. How long does it take to tell her it’s over?”
“You really dislike her, huh?”
“I just don’t think she’s good for him, and I think he’s kidding himself that talking to her in person is going to give him closure. She wants him back, and she knows that in person, she’s far more persuasive. He never should have agreed to it.”
“Actually, that might be my fault,” Reagan says.
“Yours. How?”
“A while back, we were talking about the breakup. He sounded really upset, and I told him I thought seeing her could help.”
“It won’t help.” The words come out harsher than I intend. “He’s only ever dated her. He needs to move on, date other people. That will give him closure.”
“He was with her for a really long time, Adam.”
“Yeah, exactly. He has no idea what a good relationship is.”
“And you do?” She gasps as if she can’t believe she said it out loud. The line goes quiet. “I’m so sorry.” Reagan’s voice is small when she finally speaks again. “I didn’t mean that.”
“No, you’re probably right. What do I know about a successful relationship? I haven’t dated anyone more than a few months at a time. And all of those failed spectacularly.”
“Adam, I’m so sorry,” she says again.
I believe her, but I don’t think it’s an accident she said it. She’s obviously been thinking about how I’ve blown up all my previous relationships. I can’t blame her, but it still stings.
“Have fun with the girls. I gotta go.” I press end and stare straight ahead.
“Yo, Scott,” Mav calls from across the room. “You want in this game?”
I put my phone in my pocket and join them.