Chapter 19 #3
“Maybe I rubbed off on him. Or do you think he’s still angry about us getting married and now he’s taking it out on the PTO?
” I’m only half-joking, wondering what got into EJ, but at the same time feeling good about the fact that the PTO got a warm welcome from the rest of the guys on my team.
“Lindgren said he just walked into practice and dropped him cold on the ice.”
Her phone vibrates in her hand.
“It can’t be…” she murmurs, the blood draining from her face as she looks at the screen in her hand.
“What?” I ask, stepping closer, wondering what on earth has her looking like a ghost.
Tears fill her blue eyes as she looks at me, a small broken laugh escapes her which quickly turns into something akin to a sob.
I freeze. I’ve taken elbows to the jaw, fists to the eye, pucks to the ribs…but nothing has left me this helpless. Sure she cried last night, but now it looks like she’s about to break down.
“Snowflake?” I ask, carefully. “Everything alright?”
She shakes her head, her hand immediately covering her mouth as tears now freely spill from her eyes.
I want to help, I want to fix this, but I don’t know what to do.
“What do you need?” I ask, falling back on the lifeline our little agreement is handing me.
She takes a small step in my direction and I immediately meet her, pulling her into my chest. If I can hold her together, then that’s what I’ll do.
“It’s Axel,” she says against my chest.
“What?”
She looks up at me, and I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Your PTO,” she says, something like fear playing in her eyes. “My ex-fiancé, Axel, is the new PTO.”
How did this happen? How is the guy that hurt my wife so badly, also the guy gunning for my position?
“Are you sure?” I ask. She nods, pulling out her phone and handing it to me.
EJ Johansson: Heads up lillasyster. The guy trying out for the team is none other than Axel Boqvist. At least I got to do my brotherly duty this time.
No matter how long I stare at the phone, the text still says the same thing.
My grip on the phone tightens, like I could crush it in my hand.
A hint of fear settles low in my stomach.
If he’s here…it’s not just about the PTO.
He could’ve gone after any team in the league, but he chose the New York Rangers.
So not only does he want my place on the team, but he wants her.
“I think I’m going to lay down for a bit,” Avah says, pulling away from me before picking up her bag and heading to the stairs.
It takes a minute for me to snap back to reality. “Are you alright?” I ask watching her go up the stairs.
“I just need some time to think,” she says, giving me a small smile before heading to her room.
I can’t do anything but nod as the feeling of losing control settles inside of me. I thought marrying Avah would quiet it, like it would fix some of the major cracks I have inside of me. Now I realize I’m an idiot for thinking it works that way.
I was born with anger, with a family who’s broken, with a lack of control, with the fear of losing everything and everyone.
I should’ve known marrying someone as amazing as Avah wouldn’t change the things that are fundamentally wrong in my life.
No, there’s no one who can fix me.
My gaze lifts to the second floor, where she disappeared. She’s probably up there crying.
And praying.
Her words from last night won’t leave me. She said she needs a man who’ll pray with her. A man who’ll lead her and support her.
God’s never listened to me. I’ve never thought He wanted to. But maybe…maybe if it’s about her, He will.
* * *
Slipping into the back, I wipe my hands nervously on my pants. My palms are clammy, which is ridiculous. I’ve played in the playoffs in front of thousands of people, feeding off the tension in the final seconds of a final series game.
This? This is just a church.
I haven’t been to church in…more than a decade.
And even then it was because my Aunt Kat dragged me there.
Even now, I have no idea if I even picked the right one.
I may or may not have googled the closest church.
This one happened to have a mid-week service.
Turns out not all churches only do their thing on Sundays.
I didn’t know people would want to come to church seven days a week.
Personally, I never understood the appeal of church. My Aunt Kat will tell anyone who’d listen that it’s God’s House. Her persistence in her faith is strange, especially when God refused to show up when we needed Him the most.
If He answered my prayers, then my family would still be together. If God heard me, my dad wouldn’t be the drunk he is today and everything would be different.
This is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I should know better than to think I’ll meet God in a building. He doesn’t show up between four walls with blaring electric instruments.
My gaze finds the nearest exit, although it’s blocked by a small family talking to two very old ladies. Another door then. Any door.
“Welcome,” the pastor says over the microphone, his voice warm. “I’m so happy to have each and every one of you here with us tonight. Just know that God is the reason you’re here. And that’s the best reason to sit through what I have to say to you, despite the hour.”
A small chuckle sounds around me, and I relax a little. Most of these people are coming from work or school, some in a uniform or scrubs, yet they felt the need to come and listen to a message.
After he makes a few quick announcements, he tells everyone to turn to the book of Psalms in their Bibles. I didn’t bring one along. To be honest, I’m not sure what happened to the one I had when I was younger.
I might have to buy a new one.
“Psalm 23,” the pastor says, and I roll my thumbs. “A psalm of David.”
Lindgren said he picked his number because it’s his favorite Psalm. I might not be Christian of the year, but I know Psalm 23. It’s also the number of my jersey.
Coincidence?
I didn’t pick number 23 for a Psalm. I picked it for Eddie Shore. One of the greatest defensemen in the history of the NHL. Everyone focused on Gretzky…me? I wanted to be Eddie.
“You all know that King David wasn’t without sin. He went against God, took another man’s wife and had him killed to get what he wanted. And still…he wrote this. The Bible calls him a man after God’s own heart.”
The pastor smiles, seemingly at a few people in particular. “David was a man after God’s own heart, because he always went back to God. No matter how much he messed up, how hard life got, how heavy the consequences of his actions were…he always took it back to God. And David wrote this Psalm.”
Music plays softly in the background as the pastor reads through the well-known Psalm.
I must’ve heard it a hundred times before. Everyone knows it. But this time, the words hit differently.
“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…” the pastor repeats the line. “What a beautiful promise, don’t you agree?”
I look at everyone around me. A few of them are staring at the pastor, hanging onto every word. Others are cuddling toddlers, holding the hands of their husbands or wives.
“This tells me that we can be sure of one thing…” the pastor says with a reassuring smile.
“We’ll have tough times, enemies will surround us.
We can even be sure to go through the valley of death.
People will be against us. They might even be our families, our friends…
sometimes even ourselves. We’ve all gotten in our own way once or twice, right?
But even in the midst of struggles, in the midst of darkness… the Lord will provide.”
I guess provision doesn’t mean that things will be perfect. It means that we’ll get what we need.
But who decides what we need?
Did I not need my dad? Or my mom?
“And he’s not talking about getting a snack or a side salad here,” the pastor continues grinning.
“There’s an entire table for us. To take a seat, to rest with Him, to feast with Him.
The rest that’s happening around us, can wait.
Enemies will be waiting in the wings, but nothing and no-one will keep the Lord from providing for you. ”
He smiles, and I know he’s trying to send a message of love…but instead it’s kindling anger inside of me. His words remind me of how I didn’t experience the Lord’s provision, but rather His abandonment.
“I don’t know about you, but it fills my heart with a sense of peace I can’t explain.”
My throat feels like it’s closing, my legs growing restless as the pastor surveys everyone sitting in front of him. My knees are bouncing like I’m waiting on the bench for my shift to start.
“Knowing the Lord is with us, no matter what we go through, gives me a sense of belonging,” he continues, while others nod in agreement.
Unable to stay a minute longer, I get up and leave. My throat feels like it’s closing as I burst through the doors into the night air of New York City.
I know the Bible promises peace and provision and love and kindness…But out here it feels like those things are few and far between, beyond the reach of someone like me.
I tilt my head up at the city sky, wondering if He can even see me all the way down here.
“All I came to ask is that You help her,” I manage. “You don’t have to do anything for me. This is for her. Just…” I shake my head at the sky, “help her through this.”
I’m met with silence. Nothing but the hum of traffic. I feel stupid, like someone standing out here talking to himself.
If anything, this is just a confirmation that Avah deserves more than me.
Then why does the thought of her being with anyone else feels like taking a skate blade across the skin?