32. Ryan
32
RYAN
I flew to Oregon Sunday morning. The taxi drove me away from the house early, but Nica and Henrik stood on the front stoop even so. She clutched Yoda in her left hand and his leash in her right. Henrik strained to run after me, but she held him tight. Her haunted stare and his barks followed me until the car turned off our road.
We had gotten nowhere with answers. Strategically, I knew it was the right move. Everything happened so suddenly. Trying to make life-altering decisions in a day was foolish. It would almost certainly result in poor choices with doubtful outcomes.
Strategy be damned. I’d have given my entire salary and then some to have them both going to the airport with me.
First thing Monday, I met with the team’s new player liaison, the owner, the goalie coach and head coach, and their head of marketing. Everyone welcomed me to the franchise and got busy orienting me to the team, the facilities, etc. The liaison promised to send some real estate listings over that afternoon. I toured the locker room and found my locker. MOLLOY 34 had already been lettered above it. A sky-blue jersey with the same lettering hung on the bar. I touched it and nodded. Something about that helped all this feel more real.
The afternoon was for PR stuff. The head of marketing was a woman named Lauren. She seemed more like a mom than a marketing wizard, but our meeting dispelled that. She asked me about my fan page. Immediately, I gave her Nica’s info, which she took with an eager nod and a promise to get in touch with her asap. Meanwhile, we scheduled a branding shoot and an interview for the week.
I went through all the to-dos with focus and agreement. But none of it felt real. Surely, this was a dream. No way had I really been ripped from the bubble of Seacrest in just two days. I floated back to the hotel room that was my temporary home and lay on the bed with my phone open.
Me: Hey, Trouble.
Nica: Hey, Goalie.
Me: I miss the hell out of you.
Bubbles floated on the screen until:
Nica: Same. How is Portland?
Me: Don’t know yet. The team liaison gave me some places to check out. Seems
they have good beer here. And coffee. And bakeries. And restaurants.
Me: Thinly veiled suggestion that you should come check them out very soon.
Nica: Hahaha, don’t think I won’t come right now.
I heaved a massive sigh.
Me: Trouble, you can come whenever you like. Put a flight on the card at a
moment’s notice. I don’t care. I’ll text you where I’m staying & put your name on the reservation. Whenever it feels right, just show up, baby. You are always welcome with me.
The phone lit up with a call. “Sneak attack,” I murmured.
Nica sniffled on the other end of the line. “If I’m welcome, why didn’t you let me come with you?”
Dear god, her voice was so small and broken. “I didn’t want you to have to make that decision so fast.”
Little whimpers filled my ears, making me feel like a total piece of shit. “But I would’ve.”
“I know. And then you would’ve had to live with that decision. And what if it was the wrong one? Of course you could go back, but… but…”
I trailed off as I realized what I’d done. In “sparing” her the choice, my own doubts had taken control. What if she followed me and it wasn’t the life she wanted? What would I do when I came home one day to find her stuff packed? How could I listen to her tell me she needed to take some time? How would I handle the enormous fucking hole Nica Solance would leave in my heart when she left?
The move had given me an excuse to ward off that dread. For as much as I’d told myself that each moment was enough, I’d subconsciously jumped at the chance to escape emptiness. The trade would make it easy for us to enjoy each other—and slowly drift apart eventually. Which is what my fucking imposter syndrome whispered would inevitably happen. No matter what reality indicated.
Nica was quiet while I kicked the shit out of myself for this error. At last, she spoke.
“I’ve got to go, Ryan.”
“Nica, wait. I’m so sorry. I?—”
“I know you are, baby,” she said gently. Bless her, she sounded exhausted. “We’ll talk again soon.”
The line went dead. My head hit the pillows.
I had never felt more alone in my life.
Nica didn’t call again that week, and I didn’t have the nerve to face her disappointment. We texted each day, but it was superficial shit. Updates on Henrik, funny memes, and nothing more. I knew she was in touch with Lauren, though, because my profile page started blasting news of my move. The hockey world had exploded with stories on the trade. Even I was aware of that fact. Connecticut fans bemoaned my departure while Oregon loyals begged me to turn their year around. I tuned out the noise as soon as I heard it, though. No way could I focus on this transition with the pressure of thousands of voices shouting at me.
By Saturday, I had my eye on a couple of houses just outside of the city as potential places to buy. The hotel suite was comfortable enough that I felt no need to rush, but I wanted to settle in as quickly as possible. That morning, I met the team. It was the usual deal, handshakes and nods, and a fairly reserved air. But once we got to our practice skate, things started to loosen up. The guys were funny in a self-deprecating way. It was easy to see where the weaknesses were. I wasn’t sure about calling them out, but fuck it. It was how I worked. So, I did. I told the captain to lift his shoulder on his slapshot. He blinked at me and skated away—but the next time he took possession and aimed for my net, that shoulder didn’t drop.
“Glove save!” I shouted as the disc hit my palm.
“Dammit,” he groaned, drifting toward me.
I lifted my helmet and took a drink. “Better. How did it feel?”
He grinned. “Better. Thanks, Sieve.”
“Fuck off.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Then, both of us laughed.
“Welcome to the team, Molls.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
“The wife and I want to welcome you to the team before the first game. My house, four o’clock tomorrow. You free?”
“I am.”
“Good. I’ve already told the other guys. Bring your girlfriend—wife, whatever.”
I twisted my lips. “I’ll be there.”
By the time we got to the locker room, more of the guys were ready to chat with me. All in all, it was a good first meeting. Even better, I had a new spreadsheet to create. Something to do with my too-empty personal time.
I walked through the lobby with my phone in my hand.
Me: Can we talk tonight? It’s been too long.
Nica: When?
Me: I’ll be in my room in 2 mins. Whenever.
Nica: Speak soon then. Xoxo
Off the elevator, I couldn’t wait any more. I dialed her as I headed for my room at the end of the hall.
“That was like one minute,” she said in greeting.
“Couldn’t wait to hear your voice. What are you doing?”
“Just sitting here, waiting for you.”
There was a tease in her voice like a spring breeze. I grinned and fished my key card out of my wallet. “Wearing what, exactly?”
I pushed the door open as she said, “See for yourself.”
Nica’s voice hit me in surround sound. Both from the phone’s speaker?—
And from the middle of the suite.