AMELIA
THIRTY-SIX
JUNE, FOUR SEASONS AGO
“DC is going to repeat.” Lainey sets down her empty beer bottle and props her feet on my coffee table. “It took them seven games to figure it out, but they’re twenty minutes away from being Stanley Cup champions for the second year in a row.”
“The Goldminers should be out there,” Sienna says. “Fuck Los Angeles.”
“Yeah,” Lainey agrees. “Fuck Los Angeles.”
“You two have always been my biggest fans.” I laugh and stand, taking advantage of intermission. “Anyone want another drink?”
“I’m okay. I’m meeting up with someone after this, and I want to be cute and tipsy, not wasted and sloppy.” Lainey grins. “He’s a baseball player.”
“You know what they say about baseball players. They can handle a bat and balls.” Sienna giggles and looks my way. “I’m all set on drinks, but I’ll take another brownie.”
“Coming right up.”
I head for the kitchen, needing a second to catch my breath. I might be wearing a smile. I might be the picture of a perfect host, easy and breezy and all life is good, but inside, I’m struggling to keep it together.
It’s been two months since we last talked, and watching Grant on national television has been one of the toughest tests of my life. It’s excruciating to see him play his heart out, to see him celebrate with his teammates after each win and hang his head after the defeats.
My fingers have itched to grab my phone and reach out to him. I’ve wanted to wish him good luck before every game. I’ve wanted to tell him how proud I am of him, but I’ve held back. I don’t want to do anything to distract him, and this stretch of silence was my own doing.
It was a necessary pause. I was afraid of how close we were getting.
I was afraid of how easy it is to be around him, and another afternoon spent together might have resulted in the spark of attraction.
I could already feel the flicker of a flame every time he smiled at me.
Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against mine, and pulling back is the only way we’ll be able to stay friends down the line.
I have to suffer the consequences of my actions, and that means missing the hell out of him on a daily basis.
It’s funny how he’s worked his way into my life so perfectly. It’s not funny how much I notice his absence.
“Two-minute warning before we’re back!” Lainey calls out, and I scoop a brownie onto a plate for Sienna. I grab a water bottle for myself and jog down the hall, handing the snack to my best friend.
“Tie game,” I say. “It’s all or nothing now.”
Time moves at a snail’s pace, and the first eighteen minutes of the third period are hard to watch.
Los Angeles is quicker and more efficient with their passes, but Sullivan doesn’t give them an inch.
He protects his net, stopping shot after shot to keep the Stars’ hopes of another championship alive.
I shift to the edge of my seat as the period progresses. I clasp my hands and tap my foot on the floor. I’ve never been so anxious, and with sixty seconds to go, I stand.
“I’m too stressed out for a game I’m not emotionally invested in,” Lainey says. “This isn’t fair.”
With forty-five seconds to go, Los Angeles works back toward Sullivan.
Hayes and Mitchell, the defensive pair that have played their asses off tonight, track each movement the Bulls players make as they approach the goal.
Los Angeles’s star forward pulls back, lining up for a wrist shot, but Hayes steals the puck from him.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
The camera crew struggles to keep up with the speed of the Stars players racing down the ice.
Hayes passes to Mitchell who kicks it over to Miller.
Miller doesn’t spend any time with it, passing back to Hayes who looks up at the rafters for the briefest of seconds.
Hayes brings his stick to his waist and launches a shot at the goal.
The puck hits the left post before crossing the goal line, right between the goalie’s legs.
The buzzer sounds. The game ends, and all the Stars players rush the ice. Helmets and gloves and sticks get tossed in the air. They pile on each other, Hayes on the bottom, and I find Grant in the crowd of bodies.
He’s grinning from ear to ear. Launching himself onto his teammates, his hair a sweaty mess he doesn’t bother to fix. He’s so happy, and my nose stings. I suck in a sharp breath. A tear rolls down my cheek before I bat it away and pretend like it was never there.
“What a game!” Lainey says, snapping me back to reality. “That was incredible.”
I sniff and fan my face, trying to regain my composure. I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to see him so carefree and beautiful. I wasn’t ready for the exuberant joy bursting out of him as the camera zooms in on him slinging an arm around Ethan when they’re both back on their feet.
I wish I was there.
I wish he was hugging me.
“You okay?” Sienna asks, and I nod.
“I’m great. Just love watching good hockey, you know?”
“That was so fun. Next year it’ll be you on that screen, Amelia,” Lainey says.
“That’s the dream!” I say, all fake charm.
How can I be so happy for someone and so miserable at the same time?
“Now that the excitement is over, I’m heading out. Time to go see another professional athlete.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sienna says. “My dumb ass booked a six a.m. workout class tomorrow morning, which means I need to be asleep by nine if I want eight hours of sleep. Love you.” She gives me a hug. “Thanks for hosting us.”
“Of course. Send us your location, Lainey, so we know you’re safe,” I say.
“Will do.” Lainey kisses my cheek. “See you later this week.”
I clean up the living room and start the dishwasher. I take a shower and check my email before sliding into bed, my phone in my hands. I don’t know what I want to say to Grant, just that I should say something, and I tap my fingers against the edges of the screen.
Me
Congratulations! What a game! Have fun celebrating with your teammates. So happy for you!
I read it through twice to make sure it sounds okay. I debate deleting the last sentence and leaving it open-ended, but I hit send instead, letting it drift off into the void.
There’s no way he’s going to check it right away.
The post-game celebrations always stretch for hours, from photos and interviews to teams ending up at a restaurant or club that stays open late for the players and all their loved ones.
It’s already midnight on the East Coast, which means he’s probably four drinks deep and having a good time.
There’s no space for me, and that’s fine.
I turn off my light and pull the sheets up to my chin, drifting off while thinking about Grant’s smile.
I wake up to my phone ringing.
I rub my eyes and sit up, disoriented. The clock on my bedside table tells me it’s just past one in the morning, and I groan as I fumble with the offending device, pulling it out of the charging cord.
“Hello?” I answer without checking the caller ID, exhausted and sleep-deprived.
“Lia?” Grant’s voice comes from the other side of the phone, but it sounds different than what I’m used to. Hollowed out. Broken. Something isn’t right. “Is that you?”
“Grant? What’s wrong?”
“I’m at the hospital.” The words crack. It’s followed up by a sob and the grating sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. “Riley was in an accident.”
“Oh my god.” My stomach bottoms out. I turn on the lamp, and soft, yellow light floods the room. “What happened?”
“Drunk driver. A doctor let us know he was breathing, but he lost a lot of blood.” There’s another deep sob. The sound makes tears spring to my eyes; agony grips my bones. “They have to amputate his leg.”
I pull my phone away from my ear, tapping the screen to start a FaceTime call. I wait for it to connect, and when his face appears, the thread around my heart coils tight.
His red-rimmed eyes are the first thing I notice. Puffy cheeks, a pink nose. Exhaustion in the way he can barely hold his head up. He leans against a wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor.
I’ve missed him so fucking much.
I want to put my arms around him and not let go.
“Tell me everything,” I whisper.
“We were at a club celebrating and having a good time. Nothing crazy, you know?” He wipes his nose with his arm and hiccups.
“We passed the trophy around. We sang shitty karaoke. The next thing I knew, Maverick was on the phone in the middle of the club screaming at us to get our stuff so we could leave.”
“Was Riley in a car? On the sidewalk?”
“An Uber. They got T-boned by someone running a red light. His driver stayed with him at the scene and then came to the hospital. We didn’t know if he was going to make it.
” Grant’s mouth twists into a distressed, thin line, the softest hint of a whimper working through the phone.
“We’re here now, and it’s a waiting game. ”
“I’m so sorry.” I wipe my own eyes, his pain visceral and heavy. “What can I do?”
“Invent a time machine so I can go back to earlier in the evening and make sure Riley stayed with us.” His eyes flutter shut, voice cracking.
“I didn’t know he was leaving. I should’ve gone with him.
Or taken the Metro with him. He wouldn’t have gotten in the car.
He wouldn’t have almost…” Grant shakes his head, the sentence left unfinished.
“I wish I had a time machine, Grant. I’d give anything to take some of your pain away.”
“You help. Your voice always calms me down. I know we haven’t talked in a couple of months. I know you asked for space, but I got your text earlier and thought it would be okay if I—”
“It’s okay,” I blurt. “It doesn’t matter what I said before. I’m here. I’m always going to be here, and this is important. I want you to text me. I want you to talk to me.”
He blinks and stares at the screen. His skin is ghostly white, his gaze empty. He lets out a watery laugh. “Fuck. I don’t know what to do, Lia.”
Lia.
Soft, precious.
He used it when I answered the phone. It’s a nickname I never knew I wanted, but now I desperately want to hear again.
“I don’t think there’s much for you to do besides be there for your friend, however that might look,” I tell him.
I’m grasping for anything that will keep him on the line.
Trying to find the encouraging shit to say so I can take the anguish away, if only for a minute.
“He went through something life-changing. You all will support him through whatever’s next. ”
“I know. I just… I don’t like not being able to help people. Especially when it’s someone I love.”
Grant has the softest soul of anyone I’ve ever met, and I can’t imagine the cracks that must be on his heart after tonight.
“How are the rest of the guys doing?” I ask.
“Not great. I’m not sure how Ethan and Liam haven’t gotten us kicked out of the hospital.
Coach tried to give me a pep talk, but it didn’t help.
How can it? One minute, everything is fine.
The next, nothing is the same.” He drops his head back.
His throat bobs. “Thank you for listening. For… I don’t know.
Just. Being you, I guess. Answering the phone. ”
“We’re friends. I’m always here if you need something.” I pause. My chest hurts. I know I’m not doing enough, but I don’t know what else to do. “Are you staying at the hospital?”
“Yeah. We want to be here when Mitchy gets out of surgery, even if we can’t go in and see him. He’d do the same for us.”
“Of course he would.”
“I’ll let you go. I’m sorry for calling you in the middle of the night. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
“Please don’t apologize, Grant. I’m here if you need me. If you want to talk more, I’ll listen. If you want to sit in silence, I can do that with you too.”
“I appreciate you, Lia. You’re my best friend. Even if we don’t talk as much as we used to, I’m so glad I have you in my life.”
My heart skips a beat. He’s my best friend too, and his pain is my pain.
How did I go so long without checking in on him?
“Will you text me later?” I ask. “When you get home? You don’t need to give me details or anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m so far from okay. I wish you were here. Things are always better when you’re around.” He gives me a weak smile. “But yeah. I’ll text you later.”
We say goodbye. I turn off my light, but it’s impossible to fall back asleep. All I can see when I close my eyes are Grant’s tears.
Before I have time to justify what I’m doing, I grab my phone. I search flights from Denver to DC, finding one that leaves in four hours.
If he wants me by his side, I’m going to be there for him. No second-guessing, no questions asked.
He shouldn’t have to carry the burden of this alone.
Not when I’m here, happy to share some of the load.
I plug in my credit card information, set an alarm, and drop my head against the pillow. Going months without seeing him has been the most miserable stretch of my life, but that changes tomorrow. I’ll be back by his side, my feelings be damned, and all will be right in the world.