Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
Casey always made a thorough sweep of the players’ bench and locker room after each game to gather all the items the kids left behind. It was just something the team managers did because it was a fact of life that teenagers were going to forget things: water bottles, pads, mouth guards, sweaty socks… That night, however, was worse than usual. The plastic crate she used for collection was overflowing. But she understood why, and she didn’t mind. The boys had been distracted after the game, too busy celebrating.
They didn’t win, but they lost by only one goal. Granted, Tupper Lake had been missing their star forward due to the flu. But Logan spent less time in the penalty box than usual. Ben stayed in position and blocked several solid shots. Will scored again after staying patient and waiting for his window, and Rory scored off a no-look pass from his brother. It was middle school hockey, so the crowd was small, but the cheering on their side was big.
After the final buzzer sounded and the teams high-fived one another, Casey and Wyatt watched from their seats while the Sandstoners pounded on each other in excitement, right before they surrounded Kyle. Then parents gathered round, and the whole group moved toward the locker room in one buzzing hive.
“Don’t you want to go join them?” Wyatt asked.
“No. It’s enough to watch from here.” As happy as she was for the team, she also felt tired, and shaky. It was probably spending time with her old journals and lingering tension from the game, but she’d been on an emotional roller coaster all day, and she didn’t feel up to high-energy parents and kids. So instead she waited until everyone cleared out, grabbed her plastic crate, and went to work. Normally she would take the crate to their next practice and the items would be claimed, but she had a meeting tomorrow after school. Which is why she lugged the crate over to Kyle later that night.
She could hear voices in the McCray kitchen before she knocked on the door.
When Kyle opened it he had a beer bottle in his hand and an easy smile on his face. “Hey,” he said.
Behind him Danny sat at the table. He raised his own beer to Casey. “I was just getting the play-by-play.”
She stepped inside and placed the crate on the table. “Yeah, they did really well.”
“Where’d you go afterward?” Kyle asked. “The kids were looking for you.”
“I figured I’d let you all celebrate together. How’re you feeling?” she asked Danny.
“Right as rain. Except he”—thumb jab toward Kyle—“won’t let me have another beer.”
“Doctor said to take that slow,” Kyle told her.
“If Kyle wasn’t nagging you,” Casey said to Danny, “you know I’d be doing it, right?”
He stood and held up his hands. “I know when I’m… outnumbered. I’m going to bed.” He put his bottle in the sink, said good night, and walked down the hall.
“He’s not using the walker,” Casey said after hearing his door shut.
“He hardly does around the house anymore.” Kyle held up his bottle. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. I just wanted to get this to you.” She put a hand on the crate. “I was hoping you’d take it to practice tomorrow. I can’t be there, I have a staff meeting.”
“Sure,” he said, moving to the box for a closer look. “My God, they left all this behind tonight? I’ll talk to them about that.”
“That’s okay. They were just excited after the game.”
“Yeah, they were.” Kyle laughed then, a pure and effortless laugh, which reached his eyes and made them crease at the corners. “You should have seen them in the locker room, cheering and carrying Will and Rory and Ben around on their shoulders. They all ended up in a pile on the floor.” His smile faded. “You really should have been there.”
“I think you deserved all the glory tonight, Coach.”
He shook his head. “No. We’re a team.”
That about knocked the wind out of her. What the hell was he trying to do? Talking about their old dancing tradition, the comment about her wearing his shirt, the warmth in his words when he said they were a team—when he used a phrase that had always meant so much to them.
“Well, thanks for taking the crate,” she said, stepping toward the door. “I’ll catch practice on Friday.”
“Hold on,” Kyle said. He set his bottle on the table, flipped his hat around, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I feel kind of bad about what happened last week. When I made that deal with the kids about staying for the season.”
“Why do you feel bad?”
“Because of what you said that night in the truck.”
She looked down at the thought of what she’d said that night— I just can’t be around you . The truth was, part of her was getting used to being around him again.
“I told you I’d be gone by the end of the month,” he said. “And I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s your decision, Kyle. Not mine.”
He blinked in mild surprise—and maybe irritation—at her interruption. “I know that, but you were pretty clear. I just had no idea that’s what they’d ask for.”
She tried for a carefree chuckle, but to her it sounded bitter. “Do what you want.”
“I will, Casey. I’m just sorry if it upset you.”
“Why are you worried about what I think?”
His jaw stiffened. “It seems like a lot of that goes on around here now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means everyone worries about you and how you’re going to react to things.”
She studied him then, tried to read in his expression what that last comment meant. When he dropped his eyes from hers she knew. She knew that he knew. Anger and shame ballooned in her chest. “Someone told you,” she said.
He spoke to the floor. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Come on, Kyle. You don’t just unknow someone after twenty years, right?”
He met her gaze then. “How could you put them in that position, Casey? How could you ask them to keep that from me?”
He was turning the tables on her, which stunned her into momentary silence, but when she answered she couldn’t help raising her voice. “It was none of your business.”
“I was your goddamn husband .”
“You weren’t here.”
“We were still married.”
She pulled her eyebrows up. “Not for long.”
“Hey!” He thrust his face forward and pointed to his chest. “ I didn’t serve you with divorce papers without the courtesy of a fucking phone call.”
“No”—she flung a hand toward the door—“you just left and never looked back.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Is that how you remember it?” The shrill tremor in her voice vibrated in the dead silence that followed.
Kyle rocked back on his heels.
Casey glanced toward the hallway, wondering if Danny was hearing all this. How the hell had she let this happen. This—the yelling, the recriminations, the fucking feelings—is exactly what she’d been working so hard to avoid. She took a deep breath.
“That was how I remembered it,” Kyle said, his voice quieter now. “But I’m not sure anymore. Tell me how you remember it.”
“I’m not talking about this.” She put her hands up when he opened his mouth to argue. “Look, I don’t know who told you about what happened after you left, but that was a long time ago. I’m fine now, and we’re all over it.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.” She started for the door.
“How about Wyatt?” Kyle asked.
“What about Wyatt?”
“Did you know Mike wants him to move to Boston? That he wants Wyatt to manage the crew, take more ownership in the business? He’s been asking him to do it for a year.”
She turned to him.
“Did you know he has a girlfriend there?” Kyle asked. “At least, he wants her to be his girlfriend.”
Casey was at a loss. Kyle knew this about her brother and she didn’t.
His eyes and tone softened. “Wyatt’s not going to Boston because he’s afraid to leave you. He won’t say it, but I know that’s why.”
She knew it too, even before he got the words out. She braced an arm against the counter. How had she missed this…
Kyle sighed. “I don’t know if I did the right thing telling you that, but I think you should know. Whatever happened back then, that’s one thing we never did, Case. We never lied to each other.”
But that wasn’t true. While Casey believed Kyle had never lied to her, she couldn’t say the same. And she didn’t mean the little white lies married people use to prop each other up or keep the peace. She’d kept things from Kyle, things that mattered.
He was looking at her now, his expression haggard and sad, and she fleetingly thought about laying it all out there, opening her soul and pouring it out to him, letting the chips fall where they may. It was appealing, the idea of giving up this burden she’d been carrying alone for almost four years. The one that had cost her so much. Everything.
He tilted his head and kept his voice gentle when he spoke. “What is it, Casey?” He brought his fingertips to his chest. “It’s still me. You can talk to me.”
But if she told him he would never look at her the same, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that. At least this way, even when he left again, wherever he was in the world he would remember her the way she used to be. In his mind she would remain the strong, smart, funny girl he fell in love with, who turned out to be a good wife and a good mother for a long time. They were married for sixteen years, each other’s person in the world for much longer, and he deserved the truth. She hated herself then, for her selfishness, but she still couldn’t do it.
Instead she swallowed all that down. “Thank you for telling me the truth about Wyatt.” Then she turned and left.
When she walked into her own kitchen Wyatt was at the table, working on a bowl of ice cream and reading something on his phone, while Star munched on her dinner in the corner. He didn’t look up when she came in, just pointed his spoon toward the fridge. “There’s some mint chip left if you want it.”
Casey didn’t stop to take her jacket off, just sat across from him and folded her hands on the table, stayed quiet and waited for his attention.
Eventually he looked up. “What?”
“Did you tell Kyle what I did after he left?”
“No,” he said with a flat firmness.
“He says Mike wants you to move to Boston and head up the shop. That he’s been asking you to do it for a long time.”
He blinked and pulled back in his chair. “He mentioned it. But, you know”—he waved his spoon toward his workshop—“I got a good setup here. No one looking over my shoulder, I work on my own schedule… Moving would be a real hassle.” He focused on his bowl, dug his spoon into the ice cream.
Casey reached over, hooked a finger onto the edge of his bowl, and pulled it toward her.
“What…?” He let go of the spoon and his hand fell to the table.
She waited until he met her eye. “Don’t you dare pass this up because of me.”
He shook his head like he was getting ready to argue.
“Wyatt, I have regrets that I will never be able to forgive myself for, regrets I will carry around for the rest of my life. Please don’t give me another one.” She held his gaze, even when hers became blurry.
So did his. Everything about him sagged as he sat there, looking at her with such sorrow. Her little brother, who had given up too much for her. Who had let her believe he needed her when all along it was the other way around. The thought of him moving away hurt like hell, but not as much as the thought of him giving up his dreams because she was too fucking needy.
After studying her for a long moment he spoke. “I’ll think about it.”
She pushed his bowl back across the table. “You do that.” Then she stood and went up to her room. When she got there she didn’t take off her coat or turn on any lights. She sat on her bed and concentrated on taking the deepest breaths, tried to alleviate the ache in her chest, the burning sensation in her throat. She didn’t want to cry. She hadn’t cried, really all-out cried, in so long, and she was afraid she might never stop if she started.
When Star scratched at her door, looking to come in and—no doubt—offer comfort, Casey closed her eyes and ignored her.
Those distraction techniques knocked at her mind’s door. She could snap the rubber bands in her desk drawer against her wrist, or pinch the tender flesh on the underside of her upper arm, or pull a section of her hair so hard clumps came away when she let go. But instead she tucked her hands under her thighs to keep herself from doing any of that. It felt weak to resort to that. Or maybe she didn’t deserve the distraction. Sitting alone in the dark she let Kyle’s words wash over her. How could you ask them to keep that from me… Wyatt’s not going to Boston because he’s afraid to leave you… that’s one thing we never did, Case. We never lied to each other…
Star scratched again, but Casey wasn’t ready to let her and her unconditional love in just yet.
When had she become this person? It was hard not to squirm while she replayed the things Kyle said. His voice had been the loudest one in her head since her mom died, even while he was gone, making his way west through their wish list. Except for the Pacific Ocean and Alaska. She’d known he hadn’t made it to those places, even before he mentioned it on Thanksgiving. She knew he stopped in Spokane a year and a half ago, and she was grateful he hadn’t gone all the way without her.
A soft whine accompanied the next scratch.
She stood and opened the door, closed it again after Star trotted in. Then she took off her jacket and turned on her small desk lamp before sitting on the bed again.
Star sat tall in front of her, those big dark eyes focused on hers, like she was waiting to see how she could be helpful here.
Casey reached out to give her neck a rub. “I’m okay, girl.”
Star didn’t seem to buy that. Although she leaned into Casey’s hands, she moaned an objection of sorts.
“Seriously. The boys played great tonight.”
She tilted her head.
“Yep. Kyle did that for them.”
At the mention of his name Star moaned again and glanced out the window toward his house.
Casey fell back on the bed, linked her hands across her stomach. Star wasn’t the only one in Potsdam who was happy to have Kyle back. It was obvious how much his return meant to Danny. And Wyatt and Coach. Mateo. Not to mention the middle schoolers who were falling into a triumphant slumber that night. Despite all her work and do-goodery, she couldn’t help feeling like Kyle had made more of a positive difference in people’s lives around here in the last five weeks than she had in the last five years.
She still saw and felt his grief, knew without question when he was thinking about Charlie—a quiet pause while he interacted with Will, a faraway look while he listened to the kids joking around, the way his eyes reflexively sought hers when something triggered a shared memory. She knew he felt Charlie’s loss all the time, just like she did, but he was still able to be generous with his heart, mindful of others. She couldn’t say the same for herself. Anyone in town would swear she was generous to a fault with her time, but they didn’t know it was all self-serving. They didn’t realize how badly she needed to be needed.
She was aware she was close to falling asleep, without taking her clothes off or brushing her teeth or getting under the covers, but she didn’t care. The last thing she remembered before drifting off was hearing Star curl up on her dog bed in the corner and thinking maybe Kyle should have gotten Potsdam in the divorce. That if one of them had to leave, everyone would probably be a lot better off if it was her.