Chapter 11
Matt
The squad wasn't one to convene outside of practice or games. By the time summer rolled around, most guys scattered. Went home. Took vacations. Did anything except spend more time with the same people they'd been stuck with for nine months.
But I needed this. Needed to face them after what had happened in the finals, and I wanted it done over burgers and beer on my patio before I lost the nerve and let the whole offseason pass without looking any of them in the eye.
So I'd called everyone. Roasts and drinks at my place. They showed up. All of them. Which meant either they were good teammates or they couldn't resist free food.
Mason arrived first. Brought a case of beer and that grin that said he had information he was dying to deploy.
"So," he said the second he walked in. "About that girl from the gas station."
"You told them."
"I told everyone."
"Mason."
"What? It's a good story."
The others came in over the next twenty minutes.
Nate, our right wing. Dylan, left defense.
Marcus, center. John, our goalie and the only married guy on the team.
A few others. Soon my apartment was full of grown men acting like they were still in juniors, and I was at the grill trying to pretend the topic wasn't coming.
"So Matt's got a girlfriend," Nate announced to the room.
"She's not my girlfriend."
"He rescued a dog to impress her," Mason added.
"That's not what happened."
"Used the puppy-dog-eyes angle. Classic."
I flipped a burger harder than the burger deserved. "I helped free a dog that was stuck. That's it."
"And then kissed her," Mason said.
The group erupted. Whistles. Questions piling up over each other. I let them have it, because this was what I'd needed and I knew it. The familiar rhythm of giving each other grief. The easy banter that reminded me we were more than just teammates who'd lost another finals together.
"Using a dog to get in a girl's pants," Nate said, shaking his head. "That's low, Baker."
"It was an abandoned dog."
"Even better. Shows you're compassionate. Caring. Good with animals." He took a drink. "Did it work?"
I didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
"I used the same trick on my wife," John said from his spot by the cooler.
Everyone turned. John. Quiet, reserved, married five years. The guy who rarely volunteered anything about his personal life.
"She had this little terrier," he said. "Mean as hell. Hated everyone. But I made it my mission to win that dog over. Brought treats. Played fetch. Let it sleep on my lap during movie nights."
"And it worked?"
"Dog fell for me first. Sarah followed." John grinned. "Married her two years later. Dog was the best man. Wore a little tux and everything."
The group was gone. Laughing hard enough that somebody spilled beer on my deck, and I was laughing too, and the weight I'd been carrying for four days lifted a fraction.
Eventually the burgers were ready. We ate, drank, settled into the kind of quiet that only comes from knowing each other too well. And eventually we had to get to it.
"I need to talk to you guys about something," I said.
The mood changed. Everyone got quiet. They knew.
"Coach told me before the finals. Captain next season.
It's official once the announcement goes out.
" I turned the empty bottle in my hands.
"And I want to say this before we all scatter.
I didn't do my job. I had the shot to tie it and send it to overtime and I couldn't finish it.
That's on me. You deserved better and I'm sorry. "
Silence. The uncomfortable kind, the kind that sits on the bench with you after a bad loss.
"Stop," Nate said.
"I need to—"
"We don't want your apology." He leaned forward.
"You played forty-two minutes that game.
You pulled us through in December when we were down three.
You killed a two-minute penalty in March without letting them get a single shot on net.
You carried us all season, every game, and one missed shot doesn't erase that. "
"We lose together," Marcus said. "That's how this works. We're a unit."
I didn't trust my voice for a second. My throat had gone tight around something I wasn't going to let out in front of a patio full of hockey players.
"We'll figure out the White Hearts," Mason said. "Find their holes. New plays, new systems. Come back and take it."
"And when we get back to the finals," Nate said, "we're going to win."
They raised their beers. I raised mine.
"To the team."
"To the team."
We drank. The mood loosened. Old plays were rehashed. Someone brought up the time Nate accidentally checked the referee. We laughed about John's save that had made the highlight reels. All the moments that made the season worth it despite how it ended.
My phone rang.
A number I didn't recognize, and something made me answer anyway.
"Hello?"
"Matt?"
I froze. That voice.
"Carrie?"
The entire patio went silent. Every single one of my teammates stopped mid-sentence and stared at me. Mason was grinning like a man who'd just been handed a gift.
"Yeah, it's me," she said. "Do you have a minute?"
"How did you get my number?"
"I have my ways."
"That's not creepy at all."
She laughed, and the sound went straight through me, and I remembered exactly why I'd spent the last twelve hours trying to forget her.
"We need to talk," she said.
Those four words. The four words no man has ever been glad to hear.
I stood up and headed for my bedroom. Behind me, kissing sounds and stage whispers.
"Are you pregnant?" I asked.
Her laugh was louder this time, genuine, and the guys behind me were howling because they could hear every word of my end.
"No, you idiot."
"Then what?"
"I need a favor. I locked Bob in the house this morning and completely forgot he might need to poop."
"Who's Bob?"
"The dog."
I stopped walking. "You named the dog Bob?"
"Yes."
"Why Bob?"
"I don't know. He looked like a Bob."
I started laughing. Couldn't stop it. Bob. She'd named the dog Bob.
"That's my teammate's name. Right defense, been with the team six years."
"Oh."
"You named the dog after my teammate."
"I didn't know!"
"What do you need me to do?"
"Can you go let him out? Take him for a walk? Just until he does his business. I'm at work, I can't leave, and if my entire apartment is—"
"Okay. I got it."
"Thank you. The spare key's under the mat."
"That's a terrible place for a spare key."
"I know. I'll move it."
"I'll go take care of Bob."
"You're a lifesaver."
"Just this one time," I said.
Because I needed to say it. Needed to draw the line somewhere between a man doing a favor and a man looking for an excuse to stay in her orbit.
"Just this one time," she agreed.
She hung up. I stood in my bedroom, phone in my hand, running the replay and not finding a single frame where I'd sounded like a guy who was over it.
I walked back to the patio. The entire squad was waiting.
"So?" Mason said.
"I have to go walk her dog."
The room erupted. Cheers, laughter, someone making whipping sounds.
"Just this one time!" I said over the noise.
Nobody believed me. Not even myself.