16. Kai
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KAI
The guys are already loud at the back of the bus. Since I can’t face that right now, I take the seat behind the driver. Still shaking, I pull out my phone and stare at it like I’m doing something important. I don’t want people asking questions.
Blood rushes in my ears as the bus moves through the arena parking lot. I press my thumb against the phone screen, scrolling without seeing a damn thing.
What the hell happened in there?
Not the game, or even the part where I went after Oskar and chased him down like he’d stolen something from me. I’m confused about the part where I acted unhinged.
I scrub a hand over my face and sit back hard enough to jolt the seat. It doesn’t matter.
So why the hell does it feel like I just lost something?
The bus lurches onto the street, and someone starts talking about the night like it was only another game.
It ought to be that simple. If I’d stayed in our dressing room, I could have talked to the guys and walked with them to the bus.
Nobody would’ve said a thing about my disappearance because it wouldn’t have happened.
Instead, I—
Nope. Not going there.
My finger hovers over the phone screen. Without meaning to, I flip to messages and study the empty space like something might appear there.
I will not message the guy I just yelled at in a borrowed room after he’d taken the ice like the world’s tallest Swedish drama queen.
Shit.
I close my eyes, but it doesn’t help. His voice pushes in anyway. “We both held things back.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “And you waited until I couldn’t fucking miss it to tell me what you hadn’t said.”
My eyes snap open, and I look straight ahead. Maybe I can outrun the thoughts if I focus hard enough on something else.
No luck, because the problem isn’t that he plays for the Fury, or that he’s a goalie. It’s the way he looked at me, like he expected me to stay.
Fuck that.
I shift in my seat and try to ignore the pain in my gut. I don’t owe Oskar anything. Not a goddamn thing.
While I’m chewing on that, the seat dips. An overgrown body forces its way in.
I look over. “The fuck, Theo? You’re taking up the whole goddamn seat.”
He wiggles, giving me at least another inch of space. “I’m—”
“You smell like that skanky shower soap the Fury has.”
“What am I supposed to smell like?”
“You could start with not that.”
Theo studies me for too long, then leans back. “You good, buddy?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“For one thing, you’re up here. You never sit in the front.”
“The universe doesn’t revolve around the back of a damn bus.”
He scrunches his eyebrows together. Not like he’s irritated; more like he’s clocking something.
“McKay said you were in a room with their goalie.”
I don’t look at him. “McKay talks too much.”
“And you’re yelling at me about soap. You get shot down or something?”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” My voice is so loud that Coach glances over from across the aisle.
Theo shrugs. “That guy would stop traffic in a gay bar.”
There are so many things wrong with that I could yell for ten minutes. Instead, I force out words through gritted teeth. “I didn’t get shot down. We’ve met before. I congratulated him. That’s it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If you’re going to sit here, be quiet.”
“Whatever you say, bud.” He’s still watching me. “I’ll keep people off your lawn.”
I unlock my phone and flip through game scores I don’t care about. Somehow, I end up in my contacts.
Oskar. Of course he’s still there. I should delete his number.
Instead, I open a message.
KAI: We didn’t fix anything.
I glare at the words. They make it sound like there’s something to fix. Worse, he might think I want to.
Delete.
KAI: When will you be in New York?
Delete.
KAI: We need to talk again.
I look at that one the longest. My thumb hovers over send until my hand cramps.
This is how people get hurt. One message. An opening. A chance for someone to get close enough to find the soft spot, and…
Delete.
I lock my phone and look out the window as we roll into the Lincoln Tunnel.
After a whole two hours of sleep, I’m late getting to LaGuardia. Coach Holmer gives me a look when I board the plane. Everyone else is wide awake, which makes me grouchy.
I take a seat in the quiet section and open my tablet. Reading will be safer than talking.
After takeoff, Noah sits beside me with his cross-stitch bag. “You mind?”
“Free country.”
“That means you don’t?”
I sigh and shift my knee out of the way. “It means sit down before I change my mind.”
He stitches while I pretend to read. Reading is supposed to help.
Most of the time, a good book calms me, but not today.
I read the same paragraph at least ten times, and all I can see is Oskar’s face in that fucking room.
The way he looked when I left, like I’d done exactly what he expected but still let him down.
“You’re quiet,” Noah says.
“It’s the quiet section.”
“You’re aggressively quiet.”
“Then enjoy the aggression silently.”
He snorts and goes back to his work. A minute later, his voice is softer. “You know, you don’t have to talk. But if you’re trying not to think, you’re doing a shitty job.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
I turn the page on my tablet. Still no idea what the author is talking about.
“Anytime.”
He leaves me alone after that, which is merciful yet somehow worse. I look out the window until clouds turn everything below us into a white tundra.
A clean slate.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
We arrive at the hotel in Dallas around one-thirty. The guys invite me to lunch, but I use a headache as an excuse not to go. It isn’t a complete lie. I had one last night and this morning. It burned off somewhere over Tennessee, and I don’t want it coming back.
I order a cheat meal from room service. Double cheeseburger, double fries, a side of broccoli so I can say I ate something healthy, and a chocolate shake because fuck everything. And who can forget the apple pie with ice cream?
Oskar’s fried chicken proved that treating myself occasionally is a positive.
Now even my lunch is about him.
I’m halfway through the pie when my phone buzzes. It’s probably Nico making sure I’m not dead. But as soon as I see the name, my stomach clenches.
OSKAR: We are in Chicago, and the schedule says you are in Dallas. I hope you are having fun. We need to talk again because we were both tired last night. I will get back to New York late on Monday night. When will you be there?
I read it twice, then move to the bed and put the phone face-down beside me. I’m so determined not to think about it that I fall asleep.
Someone pounding on my door brings me around, and I pull a pillow over my head. The knocking gets louder, coming in two different rhythms. Apparently, I’m being raided by a percussion section. I glance at the clock, shocked to see that hours have gone by.
Fuck me. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and curse all the way to the door. Jace and Theo freeze with their fists in midair.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
“Sup, Kai?” Jace asks. He wouldn’t sound any different if we ran into each other on a neighborhood stroll.
“How’s the noggin?” Theo asks.
I do my best to fight off a smile. “It was better before you fuckers tried to break down the goddamn door.”
Jace pushes inside, and Theo follows.
“Wanted to see how you’re doing,” Jace says, dropping into a chair by the window. “You’ve been weird since last night.”
“Not weird. Tired.”
Theo, leaning against the dresser, shakes his head. “You were yelling at me about soap.”
“It smelled like shit.”
“Didn’t you use it?”
“I always bring my own bodywash.”
“You would.”
Jace points between us. “See? Weird.”
I cross my arms. “Are you two here for some good reason, or are we workshopping my personality?”
Jace’s eyes widen. “McKay told us he found you with the Fury’s goalie.”
“Jesus, you’d think McKay walked in on us fucking. I congratulated Olofsson.”
“You needed a private room for that?” Theo asks.
“Jesus, we weren’t in a hotel. He’d just won his first game.”
Jace snickers. “And looked hot as hell doing it.”
I scoff so hard it hurts my throat. “Good for him.”
“He wasn’t happy to see you?”
“He was fine with seeing me.”
“Then why are you acting like he told you to get lost?” Theo would notice, of course. His voice softens, which is worse than the chirping. “Kai?”
“Don’t.”
“If something happened—”
“Nothing happened.” If I don’t stop snapping at him, this will go on all day.
Theo keeps his eyes on me, but I look away first. Apparently that’s what I do now. Look away, walk away, and duck the hit before it lands.
“Okay,” Jace says.
I look at him. “Okay?”
He shrugs. “We’re your friends. You don’t have to talk to us until you want to, but you’re coming to dinner.”
“No, I’m not.”
Theo grins. “Yes, you are. Lobby at six, otherwise we’ll send McKay to get you.”
What a terrible thought. McKay could bring a grizzly bear out of hibernation.
“Fine,” I say. “Now get out so I can shower.”
Jace stands and pats my shoulder on the way past. “Wear something cheerful.”
“I’ll probably wear black to mourn your personality.”
Theo laughs. “That’s our Kai.”
Once they’re gone, I sit on the edge of the bed but still can’t find any peace. I told them nothing is wrong, and I’m telling myself the same thing. It doesn’t work.
Groaning, I pick up the phone. Oskar’s message is still there, so I open the thread before I can talk myself out of it.
KAI: Getting ready for dinner. I’m not ready to see you again. Give it some time, and maybe I’ll change my mind. I know you have a game tonight, so good luck.
That sounds reasonable. Mature, even.
I hit send. Goodbye, Oskar.
The shower is too hot, but I like it that way. Steam fills the bathroom, thick enough to make everything disappear. I brace my hands against the tile and let water pound the back of my neck. This is unacceptable.
To be sure I don’t cave, I remind myself of an unavoidable fact. The last time someone looked at me like he planned to stay, I believed him. It nearly killed me, and I can’t let that happen again.
I stay under the spray until the water starts to cool. After toweling off, I wipe the mirror and look at myself. The dark circles under my eyes make me look old.
While I get dressed, I check my phone. Another message is waiting.
OSKAR: Are you really willing to walk away from this? I am not. I told you we are returning to New York on Monday night. Let me buy you lunch when you get back.
Damn it. I don’t know how he can be so direct. He always sounds so calm and certain. You’d think when I said give it time, he thought I meant make things harder for me.
I shove the phone into my pocket and leave the room.
Dinner is fine, or close enough that I can fake it. I ask for the smallest steak on the menu and try to fit in with the group. Laugh when the guys laugh, chirp when someone leaves an opening. I order a beer when everyone else does.
After we eat, they decide to go to a comedy club. I’m definitely in no mood for that, so I beg off.
Jace squints at me. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. And I’m surprised you’re not going out to find two or three Dallas guys to fuck, all at the same time.”
He laughs. “Saving that for Denver. Sure you won’t come with us?”
“I need my beauty sleep,” I say. “Dallas won’t beat itself tomorrow.”
On the way back to the hotel, I focus on net-front traffic and the risk of cross-ice passes. The Laurentian Cup pops into my thoughts, reminding me this isn’t the time to get sidetracked by a guy from a rival team who seems to know exactly where I’m vulnerable.
When I make it back to my room, I get into bed and set my alarm for seven. I consider saying hi to Mom but decide against it. She always wants to text forever.
As I’m closing the app, I accidentally open Oskar’s thread. His message is still there, and my eyes catch on one line in particular: “Are you really willing to walk away from this?”
I stare at it for a long time.
Lunch would not be a relationship or a promise. I won’t be putting my heart on a puck and inviting him to slap-shot it into the fucking sun. Maybe seeing him again is the only way to bury this once and for all. As much as I keep trying to call things with him finished, I feel like I missed a step.
I type a message.
KAI: We’ll be back on Monday too, so how about lunch on Tuesday? There’s a great place to get hot dogs in Chelsea Market. 1:30?