Chapter 8 #2
He sighs, running his hand through his short, cropped beard. I can tell this isn’t a conversation he wants to have. He’s been asked to do this by his fiancée, and he’s so in love that he’ll do anything she wants.
“She’s asking if you’re inviting your…Chloe to the wedding.”
I laugh, though there’s no real humor to it. “I have no idea, man. We haven’t even had a real conversation yet. We’re meeting for coffee tomorrow.”
His brows rise at this new information. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
I shrug. “No idea, but it needs to happen either way, you know?”
He nods. “I get it. Sometimes you have to rip off the Band-Aid on those hard conversations.”
His face darkens, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the conversation he had with Vanessa, his stepsister who moved here last year and ended up in a relationship with Locke, or if he’s going even further back to when he was left at the altar by his ex-fiancée.
Either way, I know neither discussion was pleasant.
“Anyway,” he says, “I’ll make up an answer to keep Auden happy for now, but I know she’s going to ask again. I mean, you know how it goes.”
“Considering I’ve been married longer than anyone else on this team, yeah, I’d say I know.”
He shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you’re married. I figured something was up since you were always so hushed about your personal life, but I didn’t know it was going to be this.”
“Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to discuss.”
“That’s fair. Makes absolute sense.”
Does it? Because it still doesn’t make sense to me, but I don’t say that part out loud.
“You sure you’re good?” he asks when I don’t respond.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I give him a tight smile, and I wonder if he can tell I’m trying to convince us both. “Tell Auden I’ll let her know, yeah?”
“Yeah, man. Of course. No pressure either way.”
I believe him when he says it. “Appreciate it.”
He dips his head, then moves for the exit. But instead of walking over the threshold, he pauses and turns back to me. I brace myself, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.
“Fox was right when he said we’re like brothers. You might not feel it, but we do. We’re only worried because we care about you. And we’re here for you. All of us.”
I don’t know if it’s because I’m a bit emotionally raw with the events of the last two days, but I’m struck with the sudden urge to hug him.
I ignore it, nodding instead. “Thanks, Hutch. You’re…you’re a good guy.”
If he’s surprised by my words, he doesn’t show it.
Instead, he says, “You’re a good guy, too, Keller. One of the best, even if you pretend you’re not. Whatever is going on with your wife, you’ll get it sorted. Love is messy. It’s never perfect. And sometimes it takes giving up on it for us to find it again.”
Then he walks away as if his words didn’t just smack me right in the chest. I stare at the spot he occupied for a long time, trying to figure out if I’m willing to give Chloe up if it means feeling whole again.
When I still don’t know the answer minutes later, I push to my feet and grab my chain from my stall.
I slip it around my neck, poking my finger through the wedding band that sits on it for just a moment before tucking the metal inside my shirt.
I might not know what the future holds for Chloe and me, but I do know no matter what, where we’re living or if we’re on the same continent or not, she’s still my wife.
And I’m not giving up on that just yet.
I lied to Hutchinson. I’m not fine. Not even fucking close.
I am so damn keyed up with anxiety and uncertainty that I’m quite literally bouncing on my heels to get back on the ice. Music pumps through the speakers—a playlist curated by Lawson—and everyone is in a good mood as we prepare for battle with Edmonton.
Winning a game is exactly what I need right now. I want to smash bodies and get hit and leave everything out on the ice. I need it if I want to get rid of this anxious feeling that’s eating me alive right now.
“You good?” Locke asks from beside me. “You’re extra quiet tonight.”
I huff. “I’m fine. Can you stop fucking asking me that?”
“Sure. Can you stop sighing every two seconds, unfurrow your brow, and not jiggle your knee up and down?”
Fuck, have I really been doing all that? I hadn’t noticed.
“Sorry,” I mumble, dragging a strip of tape around my calf. “Pre-game jitters, that’s all.”
“Right.”
It’s a single word, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe me.
I don’t believe me either. As much as I want to be out on the ice and as much as I want to be fully in this game, I can’t stop thinking about meeting Chloe for coffee tomorrow.
I have no idea how it’s going to go. Are we going to fight?
Will we sit in silence as we have so many times before?
Or will it magically feel easy, and we’ll figure out all our problems with one conversation?
I finish taping, then set the nearly empty roll aside and settle back into my stall.
“I’m guessing you’re distracted because of…
” Locke looks around the room, making sure nobody is listening in on us.
They aren’t. Most of them are either off in their own little worlds, or they’re watching Lawson try to chug as many bottles of Powerade as he can in three minutes.
I have no idea how many he’s on, but I already know he’s going to sit on the bench bitching about how he has to pee. “Chloe.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“That makes sense.” He drags a hand through his gray-speckled hair, then shakes his head. “Shit, man. I have no idea how you managed to keep that secret for so long. I bet that had to be eating you alive.”
“Nah, it was easy. I really didn’t want Lawson all up in my business.”
Locke laughs lightly. “Don’t blame you there.” He looks over at me. “How are you feeling now that we all know?”
“Like I still don’t want Lawson all up in my business.”
This time, he doesn’t laugh. He just watches me carefully, and it has me squirming under his gaze because I swear he can see through all the false bravado I’m putting on.
My knee bounces hard, and this time I actually notice I’m doing it.
I put my hand over it, trying to stop it, but it’s pointless.
It’s like my body has a mind of its own.
I need to relieve this anxiety I have somehow.
I itch to call my brother, but I don’t have time, especially not before a game.
I guess talking to Locke will have to do.
I sigh. “In some ways, it’s a relief. But in others, it’s the complete opposite.
” I wait for him to react, but he doesn’t.
He just sits there, listening. Then so many words tumble out of me that I never thought I’d say out loud.
“I didn’t want you guys to know because that would have meant I’d have to explain it, and I don’t know how to explain.
Not just to other people, but to myself.
What’s going on between Chloe and me…I don’t know what it is.
I was happy. I thought she was happy enough, too.
But now…shit, I’m questioning everything.
Was she just pretending? And if so, for how long?
Was our whole marriage built on her trying to make me happy?
Or was there a time when she truly was? When did it change?
When did we change?” I exhale shakily. “I just don’t know. ”
“Have you told Chloe all of this?”
I shake my head. “No, and that’s because I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve actually spoken on the phone since we officially separated, and I didn’t think that was a conversation we needed to have over text.”
“God, can you tell Lawson that, too? I swear, he texts me the most random shit. Sometimes literally. He’ll just send a GIF of like Elmo on the toilet, then follow it up with ten links to random articles about retirement or ‘How to Live to Be 100’ or something.”
“Glad to know it’s not just me he does that stuff to. Minus the old-people stuff, obviously.”
Locke narrows his eyes at me for the joke at his expense, but he has to expect it by now, especially since he’s pushing forty and there’s a good chance he’ll hang up his skates sometime soon.
“No, it’s not just you,” he says. “But he means well, you know.”
“Meaning well would be him losing my number, and since he hasn’t done that yet, I really just think he enjoys being annoying.”
“He likes you. He cares about you. We all do.”
“Jesus fuck, you sound like Hutch now. Did you guys rehearse this shit?”
Locke laughs. “Uh, no. But it should tell you something that we’re all saying the same things, eh?”
I’m about to say something snarky when his phone buzzes. His face lights up as he looks at the screen, and I know right away it’s his girlfriend calling him. He eyes me, like he’s afraid I’m going to break down if he doesn’t give me attention, and I roll my eyes.
“Just take the fucking call, old man. I’m not that fragile right now. I’ll be fine.”
He hesitates just long enough for his screen to go black, then he’s rising from his stall and marching away to call his girl back. I can’t help but reach for my own phone, wanting to do just the same. Then I remember I don’t have a girl, not really.
Still, I find myself pulling up the texts between Chloe and me. I scroll back through the ones we sent yesterday and bypass those that were exchanged over the last three years until I reach a time when things weren’t so damn complicated between us.
There are silly pictures and emojis and GIFs…
I love yous. There’s a stark contrast between then and now, and I’d do anything to get back to before.
I contemplate sending her a text now, but I have no idea what I would even say.
Can’t wait to see you tomorrow? Hope you’re doing well? I wish you were here?
Fuck, that last one hits hard, probably because it’s the most honest one. I do wish she were here. I’ve almost forgotten how good it feels to have someone in the stands cheering for you. I’d do anything to have that back.
“All right, boys,” Coach Smith says, and I look up, surprised to find most of the room at attention, like they were expecting this.
I wasn’t. I was lost in a time when things felt so much easier than they do now.
“We’ve got a tough game tonight. We need those two points, and we need them cleanly, you know what I mean?
” A round of cheers goes up, and I hope like hell we mean it.
Overtime hockey is not an option tonight if we want to take the top spot in the Pacific.
“But we can do it. I know we can. I feel it in my bones, and I need you to feel it too. That means put whatever bullshit you have going on outside the rink in a locked box somewhere and focus on what’s on the line tonight.
” He looks right at me, and though I haven’t spoken to Coach since Chloe came back, I get the sense he knows exactly what’s going on with me. “Let’s get out there and play, huh?”
“Heard!” the room says before clapping twice.
I don’t miss how Coach’s eyes linger on me for another second before he leaves the room, handing things off to the captain to get us hyped. It makes me wonder if someone said something to him—perhaps Hutch—or if he’s just that tuned in to us and I didn’t realize.
Either way, it has me shoving all thoughts of Chloe aside and forcing myself to be in this moment right here. We have a game to win.