Chapter 20 Your Touch
After agreeing to spend the night at my place, Ali nodded off in the shotgun seat on the ten minute ride back to my apartment.
While I knew I probably should’ve just woken her up, those bags under her eyes had me questioning how much sleep she’d been getting lately.
Instead, I tried my best not to wake her while carrying her up to my place.
I didn’t bother turning on the lights in my dark bedroom, I just walked her to my bed and gently laid her down.
She stayed peacefully sleeping as I carefully pulled off her shoes and draped a blanket over her.
On the edge of the bed, I left out a pair of boxers, a big t-shirt, and flannel pants just in case she wanted to change.
It was only when I was exiting the bedroom that she stirred awake. “Where are you going?”
I turned back to see her sitting up and rubbing her sleepy eyes.
“I was going to take the couch.” I hitched a thumb toward the hallway.
She studied me for a beat. “You can stay,” she said softly. “I mean, if you want.”
“You’re sure?” I asked a bit too eagerly, but I couldn't help myself, all I wanted was to be near her. While I always felt protective of her, it’s like my instincts were kicked into high gear today.
With a little nod, she grabbed the clothes at the edge of the bed and wandered into the bathroom.
I padded back over to the bed and gently laid on top of the covers, not wanting to disrupt her and make her change her mind.
“Thank you,” she murmured when she climbed back into bed wearing my t-shirt and boxers.
I wanted to say so many things at that moment, but I settled on saying, “No problem, Al.”
She turned on her side to face the wall away from me, and I figured she drifted back to sleep. But a couple minutes later, she whispered, “Hans is gone.”
The heaviness of the day settled in my chest and the ceiling above me blurred. “Yeah.” I struggled to keep my voice even. “Hans is gone.”
“I feel so…” She turned to face the ceiling. “Guilty. I never came back to see him.” Her face pinched in pain. “Do you think he’d be mad that I ran away from his celebration?” she asked in a strained voice.
My heart pretty much cracked in my chest. “No, Ali. He knew you were a runner. He still loved ya.”
She faced me and I’m not sure if it was my doing or hers, but the space between us quickly disappeared.
She blubber cried into my chest while I rubbed her back in slow circles and fought my own tears.
I tucked her head under my chin and held her there while her body shook.
In the back of my mind, I knew she was clinging to me in a way that was way past friendship territory, but I wasn’t about to point that out to her and risk ruining the shaky balance we found today.
She could call us ‘friends’ because that’s what we were, even though it wasn’t all we were.
Yes, she was my best friend, but I also loved her in every way a person could love someone.
I was determined to be there for her in any way she’d let me.
It clicked to me then while I continued stroking her hair that us being here together was all Hans’ doing.
Hans was the one who orchestrated Colt and Mer getting back together. A few years ago, he saw that Colt had signed Lucy up for figure skating lessons. He was the one who assigned Mer as her coach so they’d have to face each other again.
And Hans was the one who gave Piper and Kappy private ice times so they could skate together without anyone else passing judgment.
And in a weird twist of fate, he was the one who brought Ali home to me.
Thinking back to our last conversation, I couldn't help but feel like Hans knew this was going to happen. He made me promise to help her when she had to stop running.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. This wasn’t the first time Hans helped us face each other again after a fight…
_________
2012
For the next few weeks after Ali and the girls came to visit us, I couldn’t focus my brain on hockey to save my life.
Thoughts of Ali and Rossi swamped my brain.
I hated how small and sad she looked on my couch.
I hated Rossi and the way he was changing her, making her feel less than.
And I hated myself for being too chickenshit to start dating her when I had the chance.
And the only outlet for my anger was the ice.
I threw my body into the corners, wanting to smash anyone in sight.
Each game, I pretended every opponent was Rossi.
I didn’t care if people had the puck or not, which resulted in a lot of penalties, but I didn't give a shit.
After coming back to the bench during a late game in Hamilton in February, Coach clapped me on the back. “Good aggression, McQuaid. I like the fight in you tonight.”
Kappy moved around a couple guys, messing up the lineup and definitely skipping his own shift just so he could sit next to me. I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You good?” he asked, giving me a hard stare.
“Yeah, why?” I squirt water into my mouth.
“You’re being a little reckless out there.” He eyed me warily. “They’ve got your number, JP.”
I shrugged off his concern. “I’ve got theirs.”
Dropping his head, he let out a ragged sigh.
My next shift out, I managed to win the puck in the corner, but when I looked to pass it up, there was no one free in sight.
I pushed the puck up myself, striding toward the blue line, but still scanning to pass.
I deked around a guy, shocking even myself that I still had the puck on my stick.
I could feel the crowd’s excitement. I had almost a clear path to the net in front of me.
Pushing my already burning legs, I skated up faster, feeling my jersey billow back behind me.
Right as I was about to take a shot, I was clobbered from behind, and my face slammed to the ice.
I instantly knew something wasn’t right.
My ears rang as I stared down at the ice. I was shocked to see blood on the white surface. I hadn’t registered yet that it was mine.
I couldn’t even be mad at the cheap-shot from behind. It was my own damn fault. I was the one who’d been giving out shitty hits all game. Kappy was right. They had my number, and they got me back.
Rolling up to my knees, I held my face as I skated off to the tunnel, completely ignoring the brawl going on behind me.
_________
After getting my jaw wired shut that night, I laid there staring at the hospital ceiling feeling like I was being sucked down a deep and dark vortex of regret and self-pity.
The only thing that saved me that night was a text from Hans that read: Heard the bad news, why don't you come home for a few weeks and work here? I could use the help.
Forty-eight hours after my surgery, I skipped painkillers to be able to drive home. I was in pure agony the whole four hours, but as I drove back to Michigan, back to Ali, something settled in my chest.
My first day of work back at Centre Ice consisted of mopping the walkway between the East and West rinks.
While it was a shitty job that would get ruined as soon as the high schoolers came trudging through the rink later in the day, I was just happy to have something to do other than drinking my meals through straws and staring at the TV.
“JP?” Ali’s voice had me turning around, searching for her. She rushed around the hockey nets deposited beside the zamboni entrance. “Hans said you were back here. What happened? Why aren’t you with your team?”
As soon as she spotted me, her hands flew to her mouth in shock. I couldn't blame her, most of my face was still swollen and bruised.
“Broke my jaw,” I managed to say through all the wires keeping my jaw in place. My whole face was still in pain with every little movement, telling me I probably should’ve still been taking pain meds.
Her face crumpled in dismay, making me feel lower than low. She immediately rushed at me for a hug.
Wrapping my arms around her, I closed my eyes, welcoming the only comfort I truly wanted.
“I’m so sorry for our fight,” she said into my chest. “I hated not talking to you.”
“I’m sorry too,” I forced out.
“Are you okay?” she asked, looking up at me with concern. Her hand went up to the side of my face, gently touching me.
“Missed your touch,” I said. The truth made me feel vulnerable, but I had to say it. I needed to try to stop being scared when it came to us.
“You did?” She gave me a little bittersweet pout. “And here I always thought I was annoying you with my touchiness.”
I shook my head.
She smoothed her hand up my face again. With her touch, she brought me the first peace I felt in a while.
“How’d it happen?”
“Cross-check to the back of the head. I went down pretty hard,” I managed out. “It was my fault.”
Her face creased. “And you broke your jaw?”
I nodded. “Here and here.” I pointed out the breaks.
“Oh no, your pretty face.” She pouted.
I laughed, then immediately winced because too much movement hurt.
She looked so sad that it killed me. I knew I’d say or do just about anything to make her feel better. “No big deal, just needs time to heal.” I shrugged, hoping to dull her sadness.
She grimaced. “Are you in pain?”
I would’ve lied if anyone else asked, but with her, I nodded stiffly.
“Wow, this feels like a first for us.” She sighed. “This time you’re hurt.”
I chuckled again, then immediately regretted it. “Please don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
She cringed. “I’m sorry. This is just such a weird switcheroo.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “I don’t think I like this.”
“I do,” I said truthfully. I never wanted to see her in pain again.
Her face softened. “What do you need?”
I smiled—as much as I could without it hurting. “Another hug?”
“Oh my God.” She rolled her teary eyes and her lips twisted into a reluctant smile. “When did you get so sappy, Jameson?”
My face went a little hot from being so open with her, but any bit of embarrassment I was feeling completely disappeared when I was met with another hug.
“Hey, what the fuck?” a voice from behind us called out.
Ali’s whole body froze while my heart deflated. I knew Rossi would show up eventually, I just hoped it wouldn't be today
Releasing her, I quickly backed away and reached for the mop again.
“What the fuck’s going on here?” Rossi demanded. His angry footsteps pounded against the metal bleachers as he bounded toward us.
I continued mopping, trying to ignore him.
“Wanna explain, dipshit?” Rossi yelled at me.
Ali ran to him, pushing back on his chest and trying to tell him to leave it. But he was red in the face and yelling as he continued pushing forward, looking like he wanted to fight me.
And I wanted that to happen.
I knew it would hurt like hell, but maybe then Ali would see the violent streak that I knew lingered just beneath the surface in him. Very few players ever got banned from youth hockey the way he did when he was in high school.
“He’s hurt!” Ali yelled up at his face.
Rossi’s eyes never left my face.
“Stop it, Mark,” Ali continued. “I was just talking to him. He’s hurt, now drop it.”
He pointed his finger at my face. “Never touch my girlfriend again,” he hurled at me with venom in his eyes.
Ali tried to talk to him again, but with a furious shake of his head, he turned on his heel and marched away.
Ali’s shoulders fell as she turned back to me. “He’s just insecure about you.” She looked so torn and upset, and I hated that I had any part in causing her distress.
“It’s okay,” I said, giving her a head nod toward her boyfriend.
With an apologetic glance, she scurried after him.
I wasn’t going to get mad at her about him. I already tried that, and I lost her because of it. I wouldn’t risk losing her again. The best thing I could do now was just be her friend, no matter what. Because as long as she was attached to Rossi, I knew she’d need one.