Chapter 31
DENALI
LETTERS FROM RIAH
We won our home game against AJU and our back-to-back games with SHU, and we were overjoyed with our winning streak. We had attention from Marrs, posters were hung around campus, and more people than ever were attending our games.
I was pumped—I was—but a huge portion of my thoughts went to our letters.
Writing letters, folding them into envelopes, and sliding them into new and creative places.
I’d sprint to Zariah’s class to throw an envelope into her lap.
She’d hang over the bleachers, holding out an envelope for me to take on my way to the locker room.
I stuffed them into her backpack, she hid them in my skates.
I placed them in her RA cubby, she taped them on my locker.
Everybody knew. The letters were a constant source of jokes, but I didn’t care. Because they didn’t understand.
Sometimes it was difficult for Zariah and I to have heavier conversations. On paper, it was different. With each letter, we inched a little more into the unknown.
Until Zariah’s friends wanted to fly her out for a football game in Alabama during our game against ETCU. She’d be in Alabama, I’d be in Dallas, so no letters. We’d moved to several a day and now I’d have zero.
And I was…moping.
“It’s four days,” Bear reminded me, irritated. “You can still call her.”
I should’ve been embarrassed but I was too unhappy. Zariah and I weren’t at the calling stage yet and that definitely wasn’t happening while she was partying with her friends. I shrugged, leaving the bus.
“Denali,” Fridge warned. “This is unhealthy.”
“Shut up, Fridge.”
“If this affects your gameplay—”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you happy when Tallulah’s gone?”
“It doesn’t make a difference. We have a healthy relationship where we’re not so reliant on each other that—”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, leaving Fridge’s annoying, self-righteous speech for the hotel’s lobby.
“Denali, are we okay?” Coach asked, eyebrows raised.
“Everybody’s off the bus, sir.”
“No, without our good luck charm, are we okay?”
I realized he was messing with me about Zariah, and my face heated. The team snickered, shoving at me. They weren’t like Fridge, they weren’t being pricks about it. I gave an embarrassed grin. “Yeah, we’re good. Thanks, Coach.”
The front desk employee gave me a quizzical stare. “Denali Maddox? We had a letter arrive for you a few days ago—”
“What?”
She barely had time to hold it up before I was fumbling for it over the counter. I whipped my hand back and gingerly took it when she offered it again. “Sorry—I—sorry.”
Bear pushed me away from the group. “I’ll hand out room keys, go.”
“Denali, you’ve got maaaail,” Nick teased and the rest of the guys laughed. I left for the private section of the lobby, ripping open the envelope.
Alaska,
First of all, you better do amazing. My friends know you’re playing—don’t you dare embarrass me.
Second, of course they know who you are. They call you ‘Daddy Denali’ in our group chat.
Goosebumps prickled my skin. I glanced up to see my team with knowing grins, everyone in limbo, waiting for my reaction.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. “Get out of here!”
The laughter was deep and the jokes were plenty as they traveled upstairs.
Elijah grabbed my bag, dropping his voice to a grunt. “Elijah! Could you take my bag upstairs? I’m trying to get in your sister’s pants.”
“Hey, Elijah?” I asked him, still scanning the letter. “Can you take my bag upstairs? I want to write spiritually devoted poetry about your sister’s blossoming womanhood—”
He pretended to hurl into a plant. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving!” I could hear his mutter from the elevators. “What the fuck is blossoming womanhood?”
The letter was three pages. I stayed in the same uncomfortably stiff position, too engrossed to move. One of Zariah’s best friends, Adam, was suing his parents for child abuse and defamation. Zariah was his emotional support during it, so there were a lot of updates about that.
A voice broke my concentration—it was Bear. “Denali?”
“I’m busy,” I muttered, reading. “I’ll talk to you in a second—”
“Montoya wants to say something.”
I glanced over the letter. Bear had a hand on Montoya’s shoulder, they were standing in the archway. I knew what Montoya wanted to talk about, but while we’d stayed consistent with our sessions, Montoya wasn’t ready for the next step. I didn’t have anything he’d want to hear.
“You’re scratched from the lineup,” I said.
“Try a nicer fucking tone,” Bear snapped. “I passed out room keys so you could read dirty messages from your girlfriend.”
I sighed. “Sorry.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to you about that.” Bear nudged Montoya. “Go ahead.”
“I—uh—send letters to my mom,” Montoya explained.
“Okay?”
“Photos too, I have a photo printer in my duffel bag. It prints off stuff from my phone. The pictures are like this big.”
I frowned. “Uh-huh?”
“Um…if you want to see it…?”
“Why would I want to see it?”
Bear pointed my way. “Tone, Denali.”
I wasn’t being an asshole, I genuinely didn’t understand why we were talking about this, especially when I could’ve been reading the other two pages.
“I was thinking…if you send Zariah pictures, I don’t know.” Montoya lifted a shoulder. “Maybe she’d send you some?”
For long seconds, I stared at him. When I didn’t say anything, Bear muttered under his breath and took Montoya to the elevators, ending the conversation. But I wasn’t done. What Montoya said was something I’d literally never considered.
I slid the letter back in the envelope and followed them. “Montoya!”
He glanced back. “Yeah?”
I stepped into the elevator with them. “Could you show me how it works?”
The night before our AJU game, my coaches, Cleo, and I gathered for a last-minute meeting in the hotel’s business center. It was important information, but I was thinking about Zariah. What was she up to? Was she thinking about me?
“Denali,” Cleo said, flicking my shoulder.
I straightened up. “Hm?”
“Concentrate.”
“Mm-hmm. Yeah.” I nodded along to my coaches. They were talking about how the Boston Bulldogs had approached Sémajuste about Bear’s future—stuff I needed to listen to. Stuff I was definitely not paying attention to.
“Denali,” Cleo warned, discreetly kicking my sneaker with her heel under the table.
I jerked up again. “Yeah?”
My coach gazed at me, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?”
“Uh…the Bulldogs are great. I think Bear will—”
“We’re not talking about that.” Sémajuste pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who wants to bring our captain up to speed?”
A ringtone jingled and the table froze. Sémajuste had a good sense of humor but phones were banned during our meetings. Everybody knew it. So who the hell forgot to turn off their phone?
Oh, fuck. That’s me.
I forgot to turn off my phone.
I whipped it out, ready to end the call, but was equally as frozen when I saw the name—Riah.
“Denali,” Sémajuste said, a clear reminder.
My eyes snapped to him. “Sorry, sir. I—uh—”
Cleo glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god.”
Sémajuste arched an eyebrow. “Is it…?”
Cleo nodded and I couldn’t believe it when Sémajuste held out his hand for my phone. I was fucked. And I couldn’t say no.
Reluctantly, I passed it over.
Sémajuste placed my phone in the middle of the table, answering on speaker for everyone to hear. Zariah’s voice flowed through and my stomach pitched at the sound.
“Denali,” she sang. “I’ve made a very crucial decision. We’re going to start doing cute phone calls together. We won’t stop the letters, we’re doing those too. I just want to add this to the groveling package.”
Blood rushed to my face as the rest of my coaches gazed at Sémajuste, trying to hold in their laughter.
Sémajuste slid my phone closer. “Zariah?”
“Sémajuste?” she said, mystified. “Whoops, I called the wrong number—”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh.” Her laugh carried through the line. “Did you confiscate Denali’s phone? What’d he do?”
“He’s been very distracted. I’ve never seen him distracted before, he’s not that kind of hockey player,” he remarked, watching me. I was fucking mortified, but Sémajuste continued, unperturbed. “Do you want to take a wild guess why he’s distracted?”
“Oof.” Zariah sighed. “Sorry.”
The blush physically hurt, but I cleared my throat. “Sorry, Coach.”
“We’re big on superstition in hockey,” Sémajuste explained. “If it’s fact or fiction, it doesn’t matter, it only depends on if my players believe in it. The way I see it, the only game you didn’t attend was the one we lost.”
“Uh, she was there, Coach,” I said.
“She came into the Selick game when we were already done.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Before that, she was selling jerseys. I saw when she walked in.”
“Oh.”
Zariah hummed. “I was at the WTU game when the score wasn’t looking so hot.”
“And when Denali disappeared, I wonder where he went off to?” Sémajuste drawled. “How did he manage to get the good luck for a seven-second goal?”
“Ooo…you got me there.”
My eyes dropped to the table. “I—uh—”
“Zariah, I need you to come to our games,” Sémajuste finished. “Or, at the very least, I like your suggestion. Call Denali beforehand. Whatever works. Because I want us to make it to the Gulf Coast Cup.”
“Will do,” she replied cheerfully.
The conversation was embarrassing but that was nothing compared to the shot of dopamine to my veins. Zariah was coming to the rest of the games. My fingers twitched along the table, my heel bouncing against the floor.
“That’s what I thought,” Sémajuste said, pushing the phone to me. “Alright, let’s test this out. Fifteen-minute break, everyone. Denali, come back better.”
It was a hook for me to grab, with bait attached, and I still picked up my phone. I’d never been a superstitious person, but if it meant I got to talk to Zariah, I’d take it.
“You’re in trouuuble,” she whispered.
“Hey—hey,” I repeated a couple of times, sinking into the plushy hotel chair. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon? How formal.”
My grin was wide. “Sorry. Hi.”
“Did you get my letter?” she murmured.
“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting it—I didn’t think you’d—it…it meant a lot to me.”
“I know.”
She surprised me with her answer. “You know?”
“Because I know you, Alaska. Nobody knows you like I do.”
I kept the phone to my ear, gazing up at the ceiling. Zariah had me fucked-up. My heart was thudding so hard, it felt like it was going to break out of my rib cage.
I swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s true.”