8. Kai
Kai
“Again, run it again!” Coach yells from the middle of the ice. “Not sure where your head is at today but it’s not fucking here, Matsumoto!” Since I saw Kendall yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. My head is in a million different places, none of which are here at practice.
I wanted to scream and tell her all the things I’ve been dying to say to her.
I had this overwhelming urge to shake her by the shoulders and demand answers.
But I didn’t do any of that. I couldn’t.
Instead, I played the part of caring and empathetic ex-boyfriend against my better judgement.
I listened to her. I made small talk. I even flirted with her for fucks sake.
Like she hasn’t been harboring a life altering secret.
Like she didn’t rip my heart from my chest, drag it over hot coals, and leave me to bleed out alone.
But it was clear neither of us were ready for a deeper conversation.
Just seeing each other, sitting across the table from her was enough of a shock.
Reconnecting with Kendall after being deprived of her for so long felt like a punch to the gut.
And at the same time, I felt like I could finally come up for air.
This razor thin line between love and hate, passion and pain, are fucking with my head and my game.
I miss an easy pass and then two more. My shots are sloppy and most of them don’t make it near the goal.
I fuck up the last offensive play we run, a play I’ve done a hundred times perfectly.
I breathe a sigh of relief when Coach finally blows the whistle.
Everyone skates towards the locker room but I hear him bark from behind me, “Matsumoto, a minute?” I quickly turn around and skate over to him, knowing I’m about to be chewed out.
He’s tall but I still tower over him. He stares at me with his eyes narrowed and arms folded, his face unreadable.
But I know he’s pissed. I’d be pissed if I were coaching me right now too.
“What’s going on with you? The last two games and then practice today?
I haven’t seen you this distracted in a long time,” he notes.
I know exactly what he’s talking about. He means I haven’t been this preoccupied since I first started on the team two years ago.
When I had gotten myself into so much trouble with drinking, partying, and fights that my professional hockey career was almost over before it began.
I take my gloves off and wipe beads of sweat from my forehead.
“It’s nothing. I just have some family issues that I’m dealing with.” I hope that’s enough of an explanation. I don’t really want to air my dirty laundry to him when I’ve barely processed the last twenty-four hours myself.
“Do I need to be concerned?” he presses.
“No, you don’t,” I answer, my tone flat and unflinching.
“Good, because we’re approaching playoff season, and I need you with us one hundred and ten percent. Take care of it son, discreetly and quickly. Get your head right. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Usually, I could take the pain and anger I was feeling and put it aside when I stepped on the ice.
I allowed myself to miss her at night, alone in my bed, or when I was sharing it with a stranger whose name I wouldn’t remember in the morning.
But aside from that, I tried not to let my brain wander too far into Kendall territory.
That rabbit hole was too dark to climb out of.
When I first joined the team, I harnessed that rage and loneliness.
I let it feed that gnawing, insatiable hunger inside of me.
It motivated me to become better. Unstoppable.
A formidable opponent, and an even better leader.
I wore that chip on my shoulder proudly, always playing like I had something to prove.
Now it feels like the only person I have to prove something to is Kendall.
***
Clean, showered, and clothed, I sling my practice bag and gear over my shoulder and head to the parking lot. I step outside the arena doors and into the frigid January night. The brutal wind bites at my neck and stings the bruise forming underneath my eye. Fuck it’s cold.
Get your head right, get your head right. Coach’s words replay in my head on the long walk to my car. If only it were that easy. How could I do that when my head and heart are with her, with them?
I don’t know how she managed to keep this from me for so long.
I can’t begin to understand why she thought I would be better off without them; that I wouldn’t do anything but support her.
And I’m so fucking angry with her, but I also know that the gaping hole that’s been growing in my heart feels a little smaller right now.
Every instinct that I tried to ignore drew me closer to her today inch by inch.
Even in the depths of my rage, I still wanted to be near her.
I guess that’s what happens when you spend so much time wishing for someone you can’t have.
I wanted so badly to hug her before I left, to commit everything about her to memory.
Just in case she slipped through my fingers again.
After I stuff everything in my trunk and crank up the heat, I snap a picture of my face and send it to her with the caption “rough practice”.
She responds almost immediately.
Oof what happened?
Let’s just say something has me distracted today.
Something or someone?
Someone, two in fact.
Someone has me distracted today too.
Glad I’m not the only one.
What are you two troublemakers up to?
Just finished bath time.
I’m trying to put him down for bed now
Can you send me a picture of him?
A few minutes later I feel my phone vibrate.
Sure
A selfie of her and Akio appears on my phone.
As soon as I open the picture, I feel a distinct pang in my chest. I wish I could reach out and hold him, hug him, tell him how much I’ve missed him.
But I can’t do any of that, one because I’m not there and two because who the hell am I to him?
I’m just some random guy he has never met before.
This causes my chest to hurt a little more.
I flip my phone facedown and clench my hands into fists.
What the actual fuck. How is this going to work?
I’m supposed to just step in after all this time and be his dad?
Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to talk to her anymore.
***
Idon’t typically go out the night before a game or an early flight.
But I made an exception for Aiden since he’s only going to be in town for a few days and I haven’t seen him in months.
We planned to meet at Marty’s, a low-key sports bar, and when I walk in, he’s already half a beer deep scrolling through his phone.
Large plasma screen TVs are plastered on every wall, flipping continuously through various hockey and basketball games.
The general vibe is still calm, most of the patrons people just getting off work.
He stands up from the corner high top as soon as he spots me and brings me in for a hug.
“Good to see you man. It’s been a minute.”
“You too, Kenney. I see you didn’t wait to start drinking,” I nod toward his beer as I sit down.
“Sorry. It’s been a long week. You don’t mind if I drink right? I know you’re sober but when you suggested Marty’s, I figured it would be okay if—“
I interject before he can finish. “Relax, it’s cool. I’m fine with people drinking around me. Me not drinking is more out of choice rather than necessity,” I explain.
“Okay. Good. So, how you been and how’d you get that fucking shiner?”
“Practice was terrible and I played like shit. Not sure if you caught the end of the game Saturday but it was more of that. Evans got a cheap shot in today when I wasn’t paying attention and I took a bow to the face.”
“Well hopefully tomorrow night you’ll get your shit together and you won’t suck ass,” he replies, taking a long swig of beer.
If I had to guess, Aiden has money riding on our game tomorrow night in Philly.
He works as a pharmaceutical sales rep and makes more money than he knows what to do with.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume the cobalt Maserati parked out front is his.
“Yeah maybe,” I grumble noncommittally.
“Maybe?” he presses.
“I need to tell you something and I need you to not freak the fuck out about it okay?”
“Okay?” He arches his eyebrows and leans further towards me.
Before I can unload everything that has happened between last night and today, a waitress appears at our side with a pen and pad in hand.
She’s cute, perky, and young with blonde hair and blue eyes.
The kind of girl I would take home and wouldn’t call again.
“What can I get you guys? Do you need a drink?” she asks, glancing at me and the half empty table in front of me.
“Just a club soda. Thanks,” I reply harshly, barely making eye contact.
“That’s it? Any food?” She looks between us. Aiden gets an order of wings and she begins making small talk with him, realizing I’m not in the mood to chat.
“Wait, do I know you from somewhere?” she inquires, staring back at me. “You have a very familiar face.”
“Nope. Don’t think so,” I brush her off.
“He plays for the Boston Bucks. You’ve probably seen him on a billboard or two around here,” Aiden supplies with a shit-eating grin, knowing full well I hate this kind of recognition. I go to great lengths to avoid it.