Chapter 38 Knew This Would Happen
Thirty-Eight
Knew This Would Happen
Beck
April
“James!” Martinez calls out to me as I walk into the gym. “You’re up today on the music rotation.”
“Noooooo,” yells another hockey player from the squat rack. “God, I can’t take that techno crap today. I got goals to achieve, here.”
“Simmer down,” I grumble. “I’ll take it easy on you.”
Usually, taking my turn in the music rotation brings me great joy. Forcing my playlists on the masses is something I look forward to.
Today, though, I’m too depressed to explain the Cure or Depeche Mode to the undereducated, so I put on my Madonna playlist instead. It’s still 80s music, but more accessible than my usual picks. Then I stomp over to the leg press.
Nobody complains about the music, though. I spot at least two guys shaking their asses to “True Blue.”
And I feel nothing. Even though I’m starting in goal tomorrow again. Even though my team is on a winning streak, and springtime has finally arrived in Colorado.
None of that matters. The sky remains gray, at least in my mind. Because Forest is still an idiot, and because I ruined everything by telling him how I really feel.
If I could go back in time and take it all back, I would. Just for a couple more nights of his company.
I load the plates onto the machine like I’m mad at gravity itself, then slump into the seat with a grunt. Webster walks by, towel around his neck, and gives me a once-over.
“Damn, you look like someone ate your last Pop-Tart.”
“Worse,” I mutter. “Someone emotionally withdrew after mutual orgasms and excellent cuddling.”
Webster flinches. “That answer was… surprisingly specific.”
“It’s fine. I’m processing. With Madonna. And quadriceps.”
He snorts. “You’re a weird little man.”
“Incorrect,” I grunt, pushing the plates with more enthusiasm than necessary. “I’m a tall goalie with feelings and elite musical taste.”
“You gonna cry-lift through the whole workout?”
“Only if ‘Oh Father’ comes on. That song wrecks me.”
Webster laughs as he wanders off. I keep pressing. Each rep feels like I’m trying to push Forest out of my system. So far, it's not working.
The session is almost over when Coach Tanner stomps into the room with a snarl on his face. “Where’s James? I gotta problem with him.”
Oh great. Another satisfied customer. “Over here, Coach. What did I do now?”
Coach stops in front of the Bluetooth speaker and snaps it off. The gym goes silent, so I guess the whole crew is about to witness my latest humiliation.
“Get up, James. Get out of here. You’re wanted in Denver tonight.”
“Holy shit,” Rigsy whispers.
But I’m still trying to process. “Wanted…by the cops?”
Coach tips his head back and howls with laughter. “You were always such a smartass. Gonna have to tell those jokes in the Cougars’ locker room tonight, though. You’re in the net against Calgary.”
It’s like the air pressure changes suddenly. There’s a swoopy sound in my ears.
“I shouldn’t even be surprised,” Coach says, oblivious to my shock.
“Late season game, so Powers wants to rest both his goalies for the playoffs. Get on outta here, James. They want you for a pregame meeting with the goalie coach at the Four Seasons by the arena, okay? Then you’ll get some downtime in a hotel room before you head into the arena. Make us proud. Don’t fuck this up.”
My teammates launch into furious applause and cheering. “Get ’em, Beck! Woot! Make the magic happen!”
Still reeling, I rise from the leg press. I suddenly have a million things to do. I make my way to the door, interrupted by back slaps and awkward high-fives from the other Ice Cats.
My mind spins. I’ve got to sharpen my skates.
I’ve got to find my luckiest water bottle.
I’ve got to make sure I know where to park at the arena in Denver.
I’ve got to call my mom, because that’s an automatic. But I’ve really got to tell Forest. He’ll—
Oh.
“Beck?” Rigsy has followed me into the dressing room. “Something the matter?”
I take a breath. “No. Of course not.” This is supposed to be the biggest moment of my life. No—it is the biggest moment.
Rigsy grins. “I’m gonna find some tickets on StubHub. So is Martinez.”
“Really?” I give him a nervous smile. “But no pressure.”
“Duuuude.” He leans in and slaps me on the arm. “I’d be there no matter what. This is big.”
I take a calming breath. “Yeah, it is.”
Rigsy folds his arms and leans against the door frame. “You call your mom?”
“I’ll call her from the car.” She might care. I grab my hockey bag and unzip it.
“Cool. Are you gonna tell him? Forest, I mean?”
I take another deep breath. “Not sure. I mean—it’s tempting. He’d lose his mind.” I know Forest would be thrilled about this. He’d be excited for me, and he’d mean it.
Rigsy looks troubled. “He should lose his mind, right? He should be, like, drop-everything-and-run-for-the arena happy. Because if a guy is really on your team, then he shows up for all the important stuff, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I echo, looking away.
“Tough call,” Rigsy says quietly. “Either way, I’ll see you tonight, okay? I’ll be screaming from the cheap seats.” He gives me a mock salute and then disappears back into the weight room.
I toss some gear into my hockey bag. I need to get out of here and head for that meeting in Denver.
But I sink down onto a bench instead and pick up my phone, Forest’s smile swimming in my mind.
If I call him right now with this news, he’ll say something like, Way to go! Knew this would happen someday.
He wants me to succeed. He cares about me even if he won’t really admit it. I know this. He knows this.
And yet he won’t acknowledge it. Not in the way that I need. Yes, need.
I finger the edges of my phone and stare at Forest’s avatar, my thumb hovering.
How did Rigsy put it? If a guy is really on your team, then he should show up for the important stuff.
I kept telling myself Forest would meet me in the middle, while he kept telling me in plain English that he couldn’t change his stripes.
I take another deep breath. “Okay, Forest,” I say to the empty room. “I’m listening. Finally.” I drop the phone into my bag.