Chapter 49
CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
CHANCE
It’s been two weeks, four days, and two hours since I left Lucky Falls.
Returning to my old team isn’t easy.
To be fair, it never was.
Competing at the highest level always comes with a cost. My teammates and I weren’t close before, but they’re definitely not pleased that I caused them to play with one less member right before the biggest game of the season.
Can’t exactly blame them.
Suffice it to say, the cold welcome Gunner, Theilan, Watson and Renthrow gave when I first joined the Lucky Strikers is as warm as a Caribbean cruise in comparison.
At least Derek is keeping me busy with brand deals so I don’t have to think about how much I miss my previous teammates.
That night, I finish up with a photoshoot for a famous men’s haircare line and head straight off the set to get my cell phone.
“What time is it?” I ask Derek.
He checks his watch. “It’s eleven pm.”
I do a quick mental calculation. It’s too late to call April. As much as I want to hear her voice, I hate disturbing her when she’s already asleep.
“Phone?” I hold out a hand.
Derek hesitates a second before handing it over to me.
I give it a quick glance, see that there are no new messages and slip it into my pocket. “How did the pictures turn out?”
“Great.” Derek slaps me on the back. “You’re doing great, Chance.” He reads me a list of the weekend’s schedule while I wipe all the makeup off my face. “I’ve been testing the waters to see if the fans would object to your suspension being lifted. So far, there’s been a great reception. Once you officially announce it at this weekend’s press conference, you’ll have a world of support. It’s only up from here.”
I nod distractedly.
“You need me to drop you off?” Derek offers.
I nod. “I’m going to the arena.”
“You’re training this late?” Derek raises an eyebrow.
“I have five AM training, so I’ll be able to get a bit more sleep if I’m already there.”
Derek drops me off, and I sleep until I hear my teammates filtering in for the morning.
After a laborious five AM training, I shower and catch a cab to my hotel room. Since I’ve been so busy with hockey and my brand deals, I haven’t had time to find an apartment.
April joked that I moved from one hotel to another. And she’d be right. Despite being back in the city where I spent most of my life, I haven’t felt settled once. It’s like I’m suffering from a jet lag that won’t go away.
The sunshine is bright in an uncharacteristically cloudless blue sky.
I snap a pic of the horizon and the skyscrapers standing proudly in the distance and send it to April with a text.
Morning, beautiful.
I roll the windows down and allow the wind to blow through the car. The sunshine is warm on my face.
My phone buzzes.
APRIL: It’s afternoon here.
I stare at the text from April and something odd tugs at my gut, but I can’t put my finger on it. Wishing her ‘good morning’ despite the time difference is a running joke between us. She usually acts amused. This time, her response feels cold and angry.
Am I overthinking it?
It’s difficult to pick up someone’s tone over text. Maybe April’s response was meant to be taken playfully.
But why didn’t she use an emoji?
The cab stops in front of the hotel and I hop out. Taking the elevator, I send her another text.
Have you eaten yet?
Hours go by and April doesn’t respond. I head to my meeting with the team’s nutritionist and physical therapist, swing by a taco joint for some grub and come back to the hotel later that night.
April still hasn’t responded.
I don’t know what that means. Is she busy? Did she not see the message?
Reaching for a fidget spinner to focus my thoughts, I call her. The phone rings and doesn’t connect the first time. After it goes to voicemail, I debate how much of my dignity and pride I’m willing to give up for a woman.
I decide that I’d rather have April than either pride or dignity and call her phone one more time.
She answers.
I nearly collapse against the kitchen wall in relief. “April, hey. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Have you?”
I frown at the note of tension in her voice. “Yeah, was it a busy day today?”
“No. I stayed home today.”
“That must have driven you crazy, you work-a-holic.” I shake my head. “You must not have felt well.”
“Yeah… I guess.”
“You need to take better care of yourself when I’m not there, Tink. I can’t do everything for you,” I joke.
“I know how to take care of myself, Chance. I’m not a child. You don’t need to scold me.”
Shocked, I pull the phone away from my ear and then set it back again. “That’s not what I meant, April. Not at all.”
“What did you mean then?”
“I just…” I stammer over my words because I have no idea why we’re fighting right now. “Babe, let’s video-chat. I don’t think you’re in a good mood and anything I say will be used against me.”
“I don’t want to video chat with you right now.”
I wince. “You are angry.”
“I’m just surprised you have so much to say given how long it took you to get in touch with me.”
I try to diffuse the tension with a joke, “Aw. Are you upset because you miss me?”
There’s a long pause. It’s so long, that I start to feel extremely uncomfortable.
“Is this how you usually are?” April asks, her voice bare of all emotions. “Or is it just with me?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
April doesn’t clarify. She doesn’t say anything at all.
Something cold slips down the back of my neck and I go into full emergency mode. “April, if this is about me taking so long to respond to you, I was busy. It’s not like it was intentional.”
“I know, Chance.” She sounds resigned. Exhausted.
And it scares me.
I start pacing around the granite island countertop that I never use. “There is nothing that I would like more than to pack up and run to you every time you call. My entire heart, my entire being is with you in Lucky Falls. I would give anything to hold you right now.”
“Anything?”
“Yeah, anything.”
“Anything but hockey,” she says.
My entire body freezes. I grip the phone tighter. “What does that mean, April?”
“Nothing. I’m just clarifying your statement.”
“That’s not fair. I’m not asking you to leave your friends, your family, and your garage behind to be with me. I know how much they mean to you and you know how much hockey means to me. This is our reality.”
“I can tell what reality is. And I didn’t ask you to give up hockey either.”
“Then what was—” I bite my tongue because my voice is rising.
The urge to get defensive and fight builds in my chest, but I tamp it down. We’re both, obviously, tired and one of us has to be level-headed.
“I know this is difficult, April, but we agreed that, for the time being, we’ll have to make some sacrifices. There isn’t a better alternative right now.”
There’s silence again.
My heart climbs like a monkey to my throat. “Let me see you. Let’s video chat.”
I half expect her to disagree but she turns her camera on and I hold up the phone so I can see her properly.
April’s sitting in her couch. The lighting isn’t the greatest, but she seems extra-tired. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun and there are dark circles under her eyes. I wasn’t lying when I said I wish I could hold her. Right now, the urge is multiplying in strength.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Did something happen?”
She looks down. “No, I’ve been resting since I came back from the hospital.”
“Did you just say the hospital? Why were you at the hospital?”
“May sent you a bunch of texts. And I tried calling too.”
“Did you? I didn’t see any texts on my phone.” My heart is like a puck throwing itself against my ribs repeatedly. I rush through my text messages and call logs to confirm. “I swear to you, April. I had no idea. I can show you my screen right now. I didn’t get any of your messages. Were you sick? What happened?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine now.”
“Then why were you in the hospital?” I yell.
She sighs heavily. “Chance, whether you knew or not, I don’t think anything would have changed.”
“I would have flown back to Lucky Falls. I would have made sure you were okay. There’s no way I would have filmed that commercial yesterday or gone to training this morning if I’d known.”
“Then that’s even worse. You can’t come running over every time something happens to me.”
“I don’t think that’s the full truth, April. Isn’t that why you’re angry?” I point out. “Because I didn’t run over?”
Her mouth tightens and she gives me a stiff look. “I didn’t expect that, Chance. But yes, I did expect you to at least call and check up on me.”
“I didn’t know,” I remind her. “If I did…” I run a hand through my hair in frustration because now I’m just repeating myself and it sounds less convincing every time.
“I think this thing… between you and I… I think might have been a little hasty,” April says.
This thing? Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
“A relationship is like a car. Some say the engine is the most important, but a car can’t go anywhere if it doesn’t have wheels, or brake pads, or a frame.” She inhales deeply. “The engine gives it power to move, but it’s not everything.”
April licks her lips.
I clamp down on the fidget spinner.
“I know you care about me, Chance.”
“I do,” I say through a tightening throat.
“I care about you too but,” April’s voice breaks, “sometimes, you need more than that.”
“No, you don’t, April. Don’t be like this. We’ll find a way through.”
“Chance, we have to consider that we might have an engine but no wheels here.”
“April.”
“Look at us, Chance. Like you said, I am never leaving Lucky Falls. And you will always be Chance McLanely, the hockey star. Your dreams will take you further and further away from this little town and I can’t, no—I won’t follow you there.”
Everything inside me goes deathly still. I stare at the woman I love more than my next breath and speak the words I’ve never wanted to say.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“I don’t know,” April says.
A little hope springs out of the rubble of my heart.
Until she adds:
“But I think we should consider if a car with no wheels is worth keeping.”